“Nope,” Charlie replied, shaking his head.

“Then what does it mean?” I asked, intrigued.

Charlie gave me an apologetic smile. “Honestly? I have no idea. That’s the one part of my tattoo I’ve never figured out.”

I tilted my head, still curious, but decided to let it go for now. “Okay, fair enough. So…do you guys have schools here too?”

“Yeah, we do,” Charlie answered. “Every zone has one school, but it’s only mandatory up to high school. None of that college or university stuff you guys have in the city as I’ve heard from grandma.”

“Interesting,” I murmured, my mind drifting as I tried to imagine what life here was like compared to the city.

After a brief pause, I turned to Charlie, again my curiosity piqued. “Can I ask something? Granny Chan and Bill…they don’t look alike. Are they related?”

Charlie’s expression softened, and his voice was quiet as he replied, “No, they’re not related by blood. Granny Chan was from Zone 2 just like dad. She also wanted a fresh start here in the Neutral Zone. After what happened to her, with your aunt and my mom, they started treating each other as family. She became like a mother to Bill, and he became a son to her. And for me, Granny Chan has always been like my real grandmother.”

He paused, then added with a faint smile, “You know, family isn’t just about blood. It’s about the people who care for you with love and effort, the ones who have your back, guide you, and shape who you are. That’s what family means to me.”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. “You’re right,” I said softly. “Family is about the bonds we create, not just the ones we’re born into.”

When we reached the shoreline, Charlie’s gaze swept over the calm, shallow water bordered by clusters of rocks. He nodded toward a spot and said, “Perfect. We’ll set up the trap here.”

He explained the plan: we’d build a structure to guide fish into a pool where they’d get stuck. “It’s simple but effective,” he added with a grin.

We started gathering rocks, the cool sand shifting beneath our feet as we worked. With each trip, the pile grew, and Charlie began arranging them into a wide “V” shape pointing toward the ocean. “This will guide the fish inward,” he explained. At the narrowest point of the “V,” we constructed a circular pool with taller walls to trap them. We wedged smaller stones into the gaps, making sure the structure was sturdy and escape-proof.

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I checked my watch—it was 5:06 PM. “Do you think this will actually work at this time of day?” I asked, glancing at the water.

Charlie smiled, his confidence steady. “Don’t worry. The tide’s coming in soon—it’ll work.”

The sun dipped lower as we finished the trap, its golden light casting long shadows over the beach. By the time we were done, the tide had begun to creep closer, lapping at the edges of our carefully placed rocks. Charlie dusted his hands off and stood back to admire our creation. I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of it too, even as I wondered if the fish would fall for it.

It was my first time making something like this, and I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. But we weren’t done yet. Remembering that fish are drawn to food, Charlie told me to scan the beach for bait.

“Look over there!” I shouted, spotting some crushed shellfish and bits of seaweed washed up by the tide. Carefully, we gathered the bait and scattered it inside the trap pool.

With everything in place, we settled onto the warm sand, watching as the tide crept closer. The waves began to carry small schools of fish toward the shore, their silvery bodies glinting as they swam along the funnel walls. Some, curious or unsuspecting, ventured deeper into the narrowing corridor of our trap.

As the tide reached its peak, the shimmering forms of fish filled the trap pool. We waited patiently, watching the water slowly recede as the tide began to ebb. I found myself enjoying this simple yet rewarding process, the anticipation building with each passing moment.

When the water was shallow enough, Charlie waded into the pool. The fish darted and splashed, their movements quick and erratic, but the sturdy rock walls held firm. Grinning triumphantly, Charlie reached in and began catching them by hand. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him, his excitement infectious.

With our catch secured, we headed back to the inn, where Sky greeted us at the entrance, his tail flicking cutely.

Charlie crouched down and said to the mischievous cat, “No more fish for you, Sky. We need to work on your diet, buddy.”

“Meow,” Sky responded, his tone almost indignant, as if he understood but wasn’t happy about it. I couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable exchange.

Later that evening, as the stars spread across the night sky, Charlie cooked the fish over a small fire. I busied myself setting the table, arranging plates and cups as the aroma of freshly grilled fish filled the air. When everything was ready, we sat down to savor the fruits of our labor.

As we ate, I turned to Charlie, another question lingering in my mind. “Charlie, is Granny a Character?” I asked curiously, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah, she is,” Charlie said with a nod, not breaking stride as he ate.

“Really? Then doesn’t Granny have any kids?” I asked, leaning in slightly, my curiosity starting again.

“No, she doesn’t,” Charlie replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “She couldn’t have any.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “I wonder what kind of tattoo Granny Chan has,” I said, more to myself than to him.

Charlie glanced up, a small smile on his face. “Hers is on her ankle—a crescent moon with a fisherman holding a lamp. It’s simple but meaningful. I like it,” he said before reaching for his cup and taking a long sip.

Open photo [https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.15752-9/467487362_2769495386564195_5426889274393271327_n.png?stp=dst-png_s640x640&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=0024fc&_nc_eui2=AeEAaI8fn0WIgf-1nRmMWuk5_fBDN1qvHDz98EM3Wq8cPKGm-PZ5Ft7c6OTfofWSLqx6pyredJQdbcE0RXalCgYg&_nc_ohc=pTjLGlGc5lgQ7kNvgFZZdWS&_nc_ad=z-m&_nc_cid=0&_nc_zt=23&_nc_ht=scontent.xx&oh=03_Q7cD1gE5N_f5o94wP1n3gDgqQgSlSca_szJ7vcBMzkyeBkFoOw&oe=67909269]

I nibbled on a piece of fish, thinking aloud. “So, she takes care of the boat and guides visitors safely to the island? Is that her role?”

Charlie nodded. “Exactly. But it’s not just visitors she helps. You see, we classify outsiders—foreigners like you—into three categories. First, there are Guests. They’re like VIPs, and trust me, you don’t want to cross them. Next, we have Visitors. They’re only allowed in Zones 1 and 2. Guests, on the other hand, can go as far as the Playground. Lastly, there are Trespassers.”

He paused, looking at me meaningfully. “That’s you, Aria. You’re a Trespasser.”