Seung-Bae Kim sat alone on the boat’s prow.  The damp sea wind lashed his black hair against cheeks and neck, while, several feet below, the ocean churned. There was something alluring about the roll of deep water. He leaned forward, hovering dangerously in midair to search beneath the foam-tipped swells and into the darkness below. He knew the sea was full of life; Seung-Bae had learned the names of most indigenous marine animals back in high school, but whatever swam down there was invisible – hidden beneath the murky veil of light swallowing depth. The sea held on to an illusion of emptiness. Maybe it was a warning. Keep away. There is nothing here for you but cold and death. Maybe that was the allure. It would to so easy to slip down into it, to slip away from this life and join her in the next. Seung-Bae leaned out further and stretched his hand toward the water’s surface.  It called out to him, lonely and hungry. It seemed a reflection of his heart.

 “Oh! I think I caught one!” Pastor Kyoto shouted from behind him.

Seung-Bae turned to look.

Pastor Kyoto - a Japanese missionary on holiday to visit his childhood friend - twisted and grunted, tugging at the straining fishing line that extended in a taunt arc in front of him. A bright-yellow wind breaker flapped around the man’s stout belly, and he hopped, his round face comically determined behind a pair of thick-lensed eyeglasses.

“Gently now! Don’t lose it!” Pastor Park, a tall man with peppered hair and heavy jowls, calmed his friend and instructed him on the proper way to reel in the catch. With a cheer, the two men hauled the fish out of the water. It curled, baring its pearly-grey belly, and then thrashed a glistening spray into their faces. Pastor Park pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and captured the image of Pastor Kyoto proudly lifting up his prize and displaying it for the boys.

Across the deck, Seung-Bae’s two best friends looked on, bored and unimpressed. Min-Jae, his face a pasty white beneath damp, black curls, glanced at his watch. Beside him, Hawk yawned and stretched his lanky arms over his head, then resettled his NYC baseball cap over a patch of unruly hair. Seung-Bae smiled. Suddenly, he felt as if he’d been the one reeled in. Leaving the dark thoughts behind, he left his perch and crossed over to where his friends sat with their bare feet dangling over the foamy seawater.

 “Feeling sick, Park Min-Jae?” Seung-Bae teased.

Min-Jae scowled, and then moaned in defeat. He passed Seung-Bae the handle of his fruitless fishing rod, and turned to watch the distant antics of the men who’d dragged him on this day cruise, one of which was his father. Pastor Park had found his sea legs early on and, with the authority of a man eager to provide his son with a character-building experience, had assured the boys that they would as well.

Min-Jae clutched at his stomach. “Aishh, I hope this settles soon after we get back on dry land. I want to be at my best for the gig tomorrow night,” he complained. “Why did my dad have to pick today to take Pastor Kyoto deep sea fishing? Why couldn’t he have just let us stay behind at the beach?”

“Probably because he knew you couldn’t be trusted alone with all those foreign girls,” Hawk offered.

“Hey,” Min-Jae tried to smirk, but only managed a grimace. “I can’t help it if I’m irresistible. Ahh, just think of all the musical inspiration we could have gotten …”

“Since when have you needed a muse to inspire you?” Hawk laughed. “You beat those drum sticks on everything within a two foot radius.”

“Valid point,” Min-Jae conceded. He languidly threw himself back onto the deck and closed his eyes.  “Ugh … someone wake me up when this torture is over.”

The boys sat quietly for a moment, swaying with the sea swells, and then Hawk nudged Seung-Bae with his elbow, “Are you ok?”

Seung-Bae could see the worry in his best friend’s eyes. He gave Hawk a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

"Over there," Hawk nodded toward's the prow, "I haven’t seen that look on your face in awhile. Were you thinking about your mom?”

Seung-Bae lowered his head. His long bangs fell over his face, hiding his pained expression.  

“Ahh, Park Dong-Min!” Pastor Kyoto cried from across the deck. “Time has sure flown by. It seems like my last visit was only yesterday. I can’t believe how grown up your Min-Jae is.”

“Now if only I could get him to act that way,” Pastor Park sighed. Hands firmly fixed on hips, his knees flexed with the rise and fall of the boat as he eyed the large rockfish they’d deposited onto the deck. Still in the fight, it writhed wildly around their feet. With a joint heave, the two men dumped it into a waiting tub of seawater.

“You start college next session, don’t you Min-Jae?” Pastor Kyoto called out.

The youngest of the group, his pale face beginning to hint at an unhealthy shade of green, nodded feebly.

“He and Hawk both want to major in music,” Pastor Park expanded. “The boys started a band with their friend Hyun-Woo. They are quite good. Perhaps we’ll get a chance to watch them perform before you return to Osaka.”

“You study music also, Seung-Bae? What year are you in?” Pastor Kyoto asked.

 “I’m an international business major,” Seung-Bae replied with a grimace. “I start my second year next session.”

Before he could inquire further, Pastor Park gave his old friend a meaningful look.  “Things are difficult for Seung-Bae. He and his father don’t always see eye to eye.” He lowered his voice to explain, and then the subject was changed to talk of the weather.

Sunday’s forecast had promised sun and blue skies for the afternoon, but, from the open sea to the east, a bank of dark clouds crept closer. To the west, South Korea’s Sokcho coastline was a hazy t of white sand and jagged peaks of green forest bathed in golden sunlight. The grey edges of the cloudbank obscured the summer sun, and Sokcho harbor seemed to glow in the distance, a visual anchor on the horizon. The captain had just called out that he was turning back to port when the rain began. Within a few minutes, the wind whipped into the fierce fury of a tropical storm. 

“Oh God…” Min-Jae lunged for the side of the rocking boat. With a loud retch, the contents of his stomach spilled into the choppy waves. Seung-Bae covered his mouth and groaned in disgust. Hawk thumped his hand against the curved expanse of Min-Jae’s back.

It was just as Min-Jae straightened to catch his breath that a big wave hit. The boat was tossed sharply starboard. Hawk flailed, the sudden lurch sending him careening towards the side. Seung-Bae caught him by the arm and steadied him just in time to prevent him from tumbling overboard. 

Shocked by the near accident, the three friends gaped at each other for one uncertain moment. Then they burst into laughter.

“Boys,” Pastor Park shouted over the roar of the wind. “Come away from the edge.”

Seung-Bae released Hawk’s arm, smiling and shaking his head at his friend’s capricious luck. He took a step backward.

But before he could reclaim his own grip on the boat’s railing, a second wave hit. Seung-Bae suddenly found himself in a free fall.  Frigid spray stung his palms.  As the icy sea water engulfed and dragged him downwards, he wondered why he hadn’t thought to wear his warm gloves.

The realization that he had fallen overboard came with the distorted vision of Min-Jae’s frantic face and Hawk’s outstretched hand. In the first moments, Seung-Bae sank in the lethargic stillness of surprise, confused that the life jacket that had been loosely draped around him was now bobbing overhead at the water’s surface like some bizarre joke. His chest constricted with amusement and disbelief.

And then the alarming recognition of his situation set in.  Seung-Bae’s arms and legs began to pump, fighting against the current. A shadow moved overhead – the underbelly of the rented fishing boat – and suddenly something hard struck the top of his head. The impact shoved him backward and deeper, and the weightless blue space around him darkened.

Dazed, Seung-Bae watched as a bit of air left his chest and floated away in odd, undulating bubbles. Water flooded into his mouth and nose – a cold that seeped bone deep. 

As his sight began to dim, he thought he saw a blur of misplaced color; flashes of red danced at the edge of his vision. Out of the murky void, a luminous white lily floated towards him. Its petals unfurled, blooming into silken fingers that reached out to his face.

Mother?

The haze dimmed to black, and Seung-Bae Kim slipped away.

*   *   *   *   *

He awoke to the music of seagull cries. The birds circled overhead, passing in wide arcs and eyeing him with hungry, darting glances.  Seung-Bae lay on his back, pondering their rotation for several obscure moments and blinking to focus his blurry eyes. Then the pain came. His hands clenched at his sides. Wet, sticky sand slushed through the spaces between his fingers. 

When he pulled himself up to sit, the simple movement was excruciating. Every part of his body ached, but his head spun, and a wave of nausea passed through the center of his stomach. He hadn’t felt so sick since the morning after Hyun-Woo’s birthday party when he and Hawk had battled to see who could drink more soju bombs at the karaoke bar. The seagull cries bore a faint resemblance to Hawk’s woozily affectionate attempt to serenade Hyun-Woo with a popular love song, except the birds were more in tune.

He chuckled at the memory, then immediately regretted it. Reaching up, he tenderly the angry lump throbbing on the top of his head.

It was then he realized he wasn’t alone.

A soft exhale of breath. A slight movement at the corner of his eye.

He turned to his side.

A figure sat on the beach next to him. A female figure. Her head was down-turned, and a cascade of long, wavy hair fell like a bridal veil concealing her face.

The world seemed to wobble; Seung-Bae squeezed his eyes closed against the spinning and then opened them again.

The girl’s arms were pale and bare. With one lily-white hand, she pressed a small silver disk into the damp sand leaving a design imprinted on the smooth canvas. A gentle wave rushed in and erased it. Her long fingers pressed again. The tracing was just over an inch in diameter – two interwoven hearts framed by the disk’s edge. With the tip of one finger, she traced a ring around the outer circle.

Seung-Bae opened his mouth to question her.  Who was she?  Where were they? How did she come to be here?  How did he come to be here for that matter?  The words he’d intended contorted in his throat and, instead, the sound erupted as a dry cough.

The girl turned her face upward and met his gaze.  Her eyes were the same color as the beach’s shallow water, a bright aquamarine, and her hair was deep red. Wisps of it played against the girl’s pale cheeks, reminding him of some long ago birthday and coils of crimson ribbon tumbling, joyfully ravaged and then discarded, onto cold, new snow.  She was a foreigner.

Seung-Bae squeezed his eyes shut again and pressed his lips together, trying to gather some moisture in his mouth. The salt water had left him parched, but his eyes especially felt like dusty stones. And his stomach felt like it had been kicked, over and over.

“Who …?” He tried to remember the right words in English, but his brain refused to cooperate.

The girl didn’t answer him. Instead, her brow furrowed.

Overhead, the cloudbank broke, and warm morning sunlight poured over them. Suddenly, Seung-Bae could see the girl quite clearly. The light illuminated her hair, forming a flaming halo around her face. opened, and a row of pearly white teeth tugged at her lower lip; the flesh was rosy and plump, and as smooth as a small child’s. In fact, her complexion was just as flawless, glowing and translucent. And her face. Her face was breathtaking. Seung-Bae knew he was staring, but it was impossible to look away. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

An inexplicable ache began to blossom in his chest.

“Who are you?” He marveled.  Abandoning the attempt at English, he spoke in Korean.

The girl raised the hand holding the silver disc. It spun from the movement, and when the light hit it, Seung-Bae could see that one side was inlaid with mother of pearl. It was a pendant attached to a long, silver chain. She draped it over her head, and then her fingers followed the links downward. She took the disc into her fist and clutched it to her chest.  Seung-Bae watched as her knuckles whitened.

It took the span of several breaths for his mind to process the details of what lay beyond that single image. But when it registered, he was shocked.

With the exception of the pendant and the long red hair that fell to her waist, the girl wore nothing.

 Seung-Bae’s embarrassed exclamation was silenced by a following discovery.  In the place where her legs ought to have been stretched a long, fish-like tail. Its sleek hide matched the color of her hair. As he gaped, its tip flicked gracefully, as if in recognition of being acknowledged. His eyes moved to the place on the girl’s waist where the hide of the tail joined to her skin. It was seamless, gradually morphing into the human flesh at her sides and belly. The hide below her skin was soft and glistened like the coat of a seal. And it was perfectly, and entirely, real.

Through the haze of his bewilderment, Seung-Bae heard a shout of shocked astonishment. 

After a moment, he realized it was his own. 

Scrambling backwards, he pulled himself to his knees. His hands rubbed nervously down the wrinkled white slacks covering his thighs.

The girl with the fish-tail stared back at him.  Then, so quickly that the movement appeared instantaneous, her face was an inch from his.  Her breath was sweet, the lush clean scent of ripe fruit, but the fragrance coming from her hair was intoxicating. 

Seung-Bae’s eyes flickered. He inhaled. His mouth watered.

“Love me,” the girl whispered.

For a heartbeat, Seung-Bae’s mind shattered beneath the glory of the girl’s voice; in that moment, he knew nothing but hunger and desire. Then he felt the urgent press of her lips against his. He opened himself to her. Honeyed warmth flowed into his mouth, and what was shattered reformed and memory of the breaking forgotten.

He was saved.