Ji-Won lay motionless on the hospital bed, his face pale, his breathing shallow. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room, a stark contrast to the life outside. Byeong-Ho sat rigid in the chair beside him, his fingers nervously drumming against his knees, glancing at Ji-Won every few seconds, praying silently for him to wake up.

At the nurse's station, Uncle Baek anxiously signed forms, casting quick glances toward Ji-Won. His face was lined with tension, the usually calm demeanor replaced with deep concern. When the nurses assured him everything was in order, he hurried back, his steps quick and heavy with the weight of fear.

As if sensing their concern, Ji-Won stirred. His eyelids fluttered, brow furrowing as a pained groan escaped his lips. Slowly, he tried to push himself up, his hand instinctively clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his skull.

Uncle Baek noticed the movement and rushed to his side, the relief palpable in his voice. "Ji-Won, you're awake!" he said, his voice soft but laden with worry. He leaned over the bed, eyes scanning Ji-Won’s face for any sign of serious injury. "How are you feeling?"

Ji-Won blinked, disoriented, his vision blurred as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. His throat felt tight, and his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “Why am I here?” He winced, the dull throb in his head making it hard to focus.

Beside him, Byeong-Ho leaned forward, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edge of Ji-Won’s blanket. “Hyung, I found you unconscious near the café,” he said, his voice unsteady, a mix of relief and guilt evident in his tone. “You were just lying there… I was scared.”

Uncle Baek, who usually hid his emotions well, couldn’t mask the worry etched deeply on his face. He ran a hand through his graying hair, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "Ji-Won, what happened to you? Thank goodness Byeong-Ho found you when he did. You had me scared half to death." His brows furrowed, his usually stern expression softened by fear.

Ji-Won’s lips quivered, his breath hitching as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over. His chest felt heavy, as if every word he wanted to say was too much to bear. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet Uncle Baek’s eyes. "I’m so sorry, Uncle," he murmured, his voice cracking with guilt and shame.

Uncle Baek’s stern mask faltered, his hand coming to rest gently on Ji-Won’s shoulder. “Why are you apologizing, you stubborn boy” he asked, his voice attempting to stay light, but the concern beneath it was undeniable. "You’re the one lying in the hospital bed, not me."

Ji-Won shook his head weakly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I… I couldn’t do anything about the café,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as if each word cut him deeply. He felt small, insignificant—like he’d failed them all.

Uncle Baek’s expression softened further, and he squeezed Ji-Won’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, Ji-Won," he said quietly, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. "This is beyond our control now. You’re worth more than any café. I'd rather lose the business than lose you." His voice grew softer, laced with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. "But what happened out there, Ji-Won? Why were you out cold like that?" There was a plea in his voice, a desire to understand, but Ji-Won’s silence was answer enough.

Ji-Won didn’t meet his gaze. His heart weighed heavy with things unsaid, but he couldn’t bear to add more to Uncle Baek’s burdens. Not now. Not when everything seemed to be falling apart.

Instead, he swallowed thickly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he asked, “But… what will happen to us now?” His eyes flickered with fear, the uncertainty of the future looming like a dark cloud.

Uncle Baek sighed, the weight of the world visible in the lines on his face. But he gave a faint, reassuring smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll figure it out, Ji-Won. For now, we go back to my hometown, okay? We’ll find a way through this together." His words were firm, but the hidden worry in his tone was undeniable.

Byeong-Ho, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke, his voice soft and tentative. "We’ll be alright, Hyung. You don’t have to carry this alone." He looked at Ji-Won, his own eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion, as if willing him to believe that they could still hold on, despite everything.

Ji-Won nodded weakly, though the fear and uncertainty still clung to him. He wasn’t sure how they would survive the storm ahead, but Uncle Baek’s words, Byeong-Ho’s presence—it was enough, for now.

And though his heart still ached, Ji-Won let himself close his eyes, finding comfort, however brief, in the knowledge that they were together.

***

After Ji-Won was discharged from the hospital, the decision to leave Seoul wasn’t a slow, drawn-out process. It came swiftly, like a wave crashing against the shore, and before they knew it, Ji-Won, Uncle Baek, and Byeong-Ho were packing up their lives. The café, once full of laughter and regulars, now felt like a hollow shell as they boxed up memories and belongings, the weight of their uncertain future making each step heavier. Every item they packed—a favorite cup, a chair worn by time—seemed to carry the burden of what they were leaving behind.

Ji-Won moved through the space quietly, his movements deliberate, though his mind was distant. His body still felt weak from the hospital stay, but that wasn’t what weighed on him. It was the feeling of finality in the air, the understanding that this chapter of their lives was closing.

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When they boarded the ferry bound for Jeju Island, the reality of it all began to settle. Standing on the deck, Ji-Won leaned against the railing, gripping it tightly as the ferry slowly pulled away from the port. The cool breeze brushed against his face, tousling his hair, but it did little to lift the heaviness in his chest. His eyes remained fixed on the disappearing skyline of Seoul. The towering skyscrapers, the neon lights, the constant hum of life—it had been his home, his battleground. And now, it was shrinking, fading into the horizon like a distant memory.

As they crossed the sea, the sound of the waves lapping against the hull became a rhythmic reminder of their journey—a journey not just across water, but toward something they could only hope would be better. Ji-Won’s heart was heavy with the losses they’d endured, but beneath it all, there was a small flicker of hope, fragile and flickering like a candle in the wind.

When the ferry finally approached Jeju Island, the landscape came into view. Lush green hills rolled toward the shoreline, dotted with traditional stone houses and tangerine orchards. The air smelled different here—fresher, saltier, carrying the promise of a quieter life. Ji-Won took in the sight of Seongsan Ilchulbong in the distance, its proud volcanic peak standing like a sentinel over the island, watching over them as they neared. It felt like a new beginning, even if it was born from the ashes of what they’d left behind.

Ji-Won breathed deeply, inhaling the sea air, feeling something loosen in his chest. Relief. Anticipation. Fear. It was all mixed together, churning inside him like the ocean waves beneath their ferry. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the tension slowly melt away. They had left the city, yes, but more than that—they had left the pain, the memories, the battles they couldn’t win. Here, in this place, maybe they could find something else. Something that wasn’t just survival, but peace.

As the ferry docked, Uncle Baek placed a reassuring hand on Ji-Won’s shoulder. “We’re home,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of their shared exhaustion but also a glimmer of hope. His face, usually stern, was softened by the sight of his childhood island. This was his place—where he had grown up, where people knew him. Where maybe, just maybe, they could start over.

Ji-Won nodded, feeling the comfort of his uncle’s hand, though the uncertainty still gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure if he could call this place home yet, but as he looked toward the shore, with its simple stone houses and endless fields, it didn’t seem like such a bad place to start again.

The village they arrived in felt like another world compared to Seoul. The traditional Jeju stone houses stood humbly in the distance, their thatched roofs blending into the landscape. Fields of tangerines stretched out toward the horizon, their bright oranges a stark contrast to the deep green of the gardens surrounding them. Farmers worked the volcanic soil, their movements slow and steady, as if time here moved differently—more forgivingly.

The sense of community was palpable. As they passed through the village, Ji-Won saw neighbors chatting, exchanging smiles, and sharing the load of farm work, their hands stained with the earth they tilled together. Fishing boats bobbed gently in the nearby harbor, small but sturdy, a reminder of the simpler, more connected life they were entering.

Ji-Won couldn’t help but feel the weight of their new life settling over him. It wasn’t just about leaving Seoul; it was about finding something here, in this small, close-knit village, that they had lost in the city: belonging. As he took his first steps off the ferry and onto Jeju soil, he wondered if this place could offer them the refuge they so desperately needed.

Uncle Baek turned to them, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, looking first at Ji-Won, then at Byeong-Ho. His eyes reflected the warmth of the island sun, and for the first time in a long while, Ji-Won allowed himself to believe that they would.

***

months had passed since they settled into their new life on Jeju Island. The transition from Seoul’s bustling cityscape to the island’s serene coastlines and rolling fields had been challenging, but also strangely comforting. They had quickly found work on the local tangerine farms, where they spent their mornings picking fruit under the clear sky. In the afternoons, they helped at the local fish market, selling the daily catch to tourists and locals alike. The rhythm of this new life, though simple, was beginning to feel like home.

"Hyung, you’re getting faster at this," Byeong-Ho said, grinning as he watched Ji-Won expertly navigate the ladder. "Remember how clumsy you were when we first got here? You almost fell off twice."

Ji-Won chuckled, brushing a stray leaf off his sweater. "Yeah, well, I guess I’m a fast learner. Besides, I don’t think I had much of a choice, right? Gotta keep up with you guys."

Uncle Baek, who was nearby with a crate full of freshly picked tangerines, looked up and smiled. "You’re both doing great."

“Oh, it’s starting to get chilly.” Byeong-Ho sighed, his breath visible in the crisp air as he rubbed his arms for warmth.

Ji-Won, glancing up at the overcast sky, shivered slightly. “We didn’t notice how time flew by. It’s almost winter.”

As they continued to pick tangerines, their movements became more deliberate, the cold nipping at their fingers. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the orchard, a stark reminder of the approaching season.

Once their work was done, they walked side by side towards Uncle Baek’s house. Their steps were slow, the cold making them huddle closer for warmth. The weight of the day’s labor was evident in their tired faces.

Uncle Baek looked up and smiled warmly at them, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good job today, you two,” he said, his tone both approving and encouraging. “Let’s get ready for the market. We have a lot to prepare.”

Ji-Won nodded, his breath visible in the chilly while Byeong-Ho, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

***

Later, at the market, Ji-Won and Byeong-Ho helped Uncle Baek set up their small stall. The tangy scent of the sea mixed with the fresh tangerines they had brought, creating a surprisingly pleasant aroma that drew a few curious customers. Ji-Won arranged the tangerines in neat piles, while Byeong-Ho handled the fish, skillfully slicing and preparing them for sale.

A local customer, an elderly woman bundled in a heavy coat, stopped by their stall and pointed at the fresh fish. "Looks good, boys. How much for the mackerel?"

"Five thousand won, ma’am," Byeong-Ho replied with a polite smile. "Best catch of the day. We picked it up straight from the boat this morning."

Ji-Won, overhearing the conversation, added, "We’ve also got some fresh tangerines if you’re interested. Perfect for the winter season."

The woman nodded, pleased. "You boys are doing well here. I’ve seen you at the farm, too. It’s good to see young people working hard."

Uncle Baek placed a hand on Ji-Won’s shoulder "We’re doing alright, aren’t we? It’s not the café, and it’s not Seoul, but… we’re making it work."

"Yeah, Uncle. We’re doing more than alright. We’re surviving. And that’s something."

The story doesn't end here......