Work Text:
As Chou Tzuyu lazily blinked her eyes open, the digital clock on her nightstand already read eleven in the morning. She burrowed her face into the plush pillow for a moment longer, simply savoring the bliss of... doing nothing. It wasn't until her stomach let out a soft rumble that she finally stretched, letting her messy hair tumble down freely as she slid her feet into a pair of warm, fluffy slippers.
Casting aside her strict weight-loss rules, Tzuyu headed straight for the kitchen, pulled out two packs of instant noodles she had stocked up on, and began cooking. Once the noodles were done, she loosely pinned her hair up with a plastic claw clip and carried the steaming pot out to the porch. Slurping down the tongue-numbingly spicy noodles, she watched with delight as clusters of wildflowers swayed gently against the fence. Sipping the very last drop of broth, she set the empty pot down on the steps, telling herself, "I'll wash it this afternoon."
The slanted midday sun of Gangneung cast a gentle, comforting warmth over her bare skin. Tzuyu put on her slippers and stepped down onto the textured brick courtyard in front of the house. The surroundings were so peaceful that she could clearly hear the sea breeze rustling through the treetops, and more distinctly, a crisp, trickling sound coming from a quiet corner of the yard.
Tzuyu walked over to a quaint pond lined with smooth gray pebbles. The cleaning crew she had hired before her arrival had done a meticulous job: the bottom of the pond was spotless without a single trace of moss, the water was crystal clear all the way down, and a slender bamboo pipe steadily trickled a cheerful stream of water into it. The only thing was, the pond was completely empty. But of course, how could a house that its owner only occasionally visits to escape work be home to any fish? Leaving them here unattended would only mean they'd starve to death in no time.
Yet, looking at the crystal-clear water continuously circulating, Tzuyu suddenly felt a pang of emptiness. "Maybe I should go to the town market and buy a few tiny carp to release in here for now?"
After all, she was going to stay here for a whole month. A few vibrant little swimmers flicking their tails would surely breathe some life into this part of the yard. And when her vacation came to an end, she could easily gift them to the neighborhood kids or release them into a nearby stream.
Her mind was made up. Tomorrow morning, she would wake up a little earlier. Not only to see how beautiful the sunrise looked here, but also to stroll through the local market by the sea to find some fish for her empty pond.
In the afternoon, Tzuyu decided to do some manual chores that she never had the chance to do back in Seoul. Grabbing a handy bamboo broom, she leisurely swept up the dry leaves scattered across the courtyard. Once the yard was clean, she rolled up her sleeves to water the potted plants lining the wall. A bit of mud splashed onto the hem of her pajama pants, and a few stray drops of water clung to her cheeks, but she didn't mind in the slightest.
As lights began to flicker on across the cozy town, the distant sounds of barking dogs and the rhythmic clatter of bicycles carrying locals home from work drifted through the air. Amidst the quiet evening noise, she caught the sound of an engine approaching from a distance before it pulled up and stopped at the house next door. It was a jeep, and the person stepping out appeared to be a soldier, judging by the unmistakable military uniform.
Perhaps she would drop by to say hello some other day, even though she wouldn't be staying long. But for now, she needed to find something to snack on while binge-watching her favorite dramas.
Tzuyu stirred, groping around for the phone she had carelessly tossed onto the bed. The screen lit up, displaying the numbers seven forty-five. She stared blankly for a few seconds before bursting into a soft laugh, burying half her face back into the cozy duvet. Although last night she had firmly resolved to wake up at five-thirty to watch the sunrise over the sea, the bed in this house seemed to possess a magical power to hold her captive. Oh well, it was a stress-relieving vacation after all. If she missed the sunrise today, she could always catch it tomorrow; there was no one standing outside the door with a strict schedule to rush her.
After rolling around for another fifteen minutes to satisfy her laziness, Tzuyu finally threw off the blanket and got out of bed. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she picked out an outfit that couldn't be any more ordinary: a gray sweatshirt carelessly draped over a chair, wide-leg jeans, and an oversized athletic jacket thrown on top. There was no need for any disguise, because in this coastal town, no one would scrutinize her to see which big movie star she was.
By eight-thirty in the morning, the local market had already passed its peak bustle of the incoming fishing boats, yet it was still filled with lively sounds and the distinctive briny scent of the sea. Tzuyu curiously strolled past the damp, glistening stalls. After looking around for a while, she found a modest ornamental fish stall tucked away in a quiet corner. The lady vendor became incredibly enthusiastic upon seeing a pretty young girl stopping by. After ten minutes of helpful advice, Tzuyu left with a radiant smile and a massive transparent plastic bag filled with water and a few orange-and-white fish swimming happily inside.
The walk back home, heading up the steep slope from the market, was not nearly as romantic as she had imagined. Carrying such a bulky plastic bag, with the water sloshing and shifting with every step, left Tzuyu's center of gravity completely off balance. She waddled along with short steps like a penguin, having to pause every now and then to switch hands as her arms grew exhausted.
As the familiar silhouette of her wooden fence came into view, Tzuyu let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, if anyone had seen me struggling like this earlier, I would have died of embarrassment," she muttered, carefully setting the bag down on the stone ledge beside the pond.
She labored to untie the tight knot, gently tilting the mouth of the bag so the water and its tiny residents could slide smoothly into the pond. The moment they touched their new environment, the fish flicked their tails, swam a lap to explore, and then darted straight under the shade of the bamboo pipe. Squatting on the brick ground with her chin resting in her hands, she watched with sheer delight as a newfound vitality breathed into the little corner of her yard.
As Tzuyu was nestled under a thin throw blanket on the sofa, munching on potato chips and fully absorbed in the climax of her drama, a strange noise broke the silence outside. It was immediately followed by a frantic splashing sound coming from the front yard. Her intuition immediately warned her that something was wrong with the newfound ecosystem she had painstakingly brought back from the market that morning. Without a second thought, she dashed out the door, still clad in her pajamas.
The intruder trespassing in her courtyard was a rather plump orange stray cat. Shedding the lazy demeanor typical of felines during the day, the thief was now leaning halfway over the stone ledge. One front paw, with claws fully unsheathed, relentlessly swiped at the water, desperately trying to scoop up the panicking carp scattering across the pond.
"Hey! No, leave my fish alone!" Tzuyu cried out in a panic.
She took a few steps forward, intending to shoo the culprit away. However, instead of fleeing, the stray whipped around and glared at her, letting out a menacing hiss. Tzuyu had always loved animals, but confronting an aggressive stray fiercely defending its midnight snack was an entirely different story. She had no desire for the second day of her relaxing getaway to end at the local clinic with a cat scratch.
"Shoo... Go away... There's nothing good in there..." she pleaded weakly.
Naturally, the cat completely ignored her feeble attempt at negotiation. It turned its attention back to the pond, resuming its unfinished hunt.
Just as Tzuyu was on the verge of despair, two sharp knocks rapped against the right-side fence, startling both her and the cat. From the neighboring courtyard, a low female voice rang out.
"Beat it."
The silhouette standing on the other side of the fence simply snapped her fingers with an air of nonchalance. Yet, the orange thief seemed to sense an invisible, intimidating aura. Pinning its ears back, it let out a defeated meow before turning and vaulting over the brick wall.
Tzuyu let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, patting her chest in relief. It was then she realized that her savior was the soldier she had seen the previous evening, only now at a much closer distance. She was dressed casually in an olive-green military t-shirt. One hand was tucked coolly into the pocket of her sweatpants, while the other loosely held a half-empty can of beer.
"New fish?" the neighbor asked, her eyes briefly scanning the rippling surface of the pond.
"Ah... yes," Tzuyu replied, hastily smoothing down her messy hair, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious about her disheveled state. "I just bought them today... Thanks for scaring it away."
"It's too bare," the neighbor remarked flatly. "They have nowhere to hide, so they'll get eaten sooner or later. Cover it with something tonight. Tomorrow, get some big rocks to make a cave at the bottom, or buy a net to stretch over it."
Tzuyu blinked, caught slightly off guard. It was true; she had only bought the fish for aesthetics and hadn't given a single thought to the harsh realities of their survival.
"Oh... right. Thank you," she managed.
The woman gave a faint nod of acknowledgment. "It's getting cold. Get inside before you catch something." With that, she turned on her heel and leisurely strolled back toward her own porch.
Tzuyu stood rooted in the middle of the courtyard. A sudden gust of sea breeze whipped past, making her shiver as goosebumps prickled along her bare arms. She cast a glance at the neighboring yard, the corners of her lips curling into an involuntary, secret smile. Her new neighbor seemed to be a good person at heart, just with a manner of speaking that was every bit as dry and rigid as her military uniform.
Her plan to catch the sunrise finally succeeded on the third day. Bundled up in a thick blanket with only her eyes exposed, Tzuyu sat on the rattan chair on her balcony. She watched in silence as the horizon shifted from the deep blue of the fading night to a soft gradient of pale purple, before bursting into a vibrant peach orange. No stage lights could ever be as authentic and magnificent as the moment the sun emerged, casting golden rays onto the rippling water of the stone pond in the corner of the yard. The briny scent of sea salt lingering in the morning mist filled her lungs, making her chest feel incredibly light.
Once the sun was fully up, Tzuyu dragged her fluffy slippers back inside. Keeping things simple, she made herself a glass of warm milk and nibbled on a slice of crispy toast spread with strawberry butter. After breakfast, she suddenly remembered the advice her neighbor had given her the night before. She wandered around the house looking for options, finally spotting a terracotta pot with a chipped corner lying in the backyard. She thoroughly scrubbed the dirt off under the tap and carried it over to the front yard.
Rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, she carefully submerged the vessel to the bottom of the crystal-clear water, placing it on its side to create a cozy cave. The orange-and-white carp scattered in a panic at first, but moments later, as if realizing this was a safe haven, they began to curiously swim inside one by one. Tzuyu clapped her wet hands together, smiling contentedly. From now on, the stray cats wouldn't stand a chance against her fish.
Tzuyu turned on a soft jazz playlist, holding a novel that dove into the psychological depths of its characters, filled with poetic descriptions of surroundings that she normally never had the time to savor. However, after turning just a few chapters, the soothing embrace of the afternoon successfully coaxed her eyelids shut. The book slipped from her hands as she drifted into a midday nap, letting the slanted sunbeams dance across her messy hair.
Her peaceful nap lasted until the dusk began to paint the windowpanes with a layer of pale pink. Tzuyu stirred, letting the novel slide gently onto the chair cushion. The constant tightness in her chest seemed to have been mostly carried away by the sea breeze. She decided she couldn't just stay curled up indoors forever. A twilight stroll might be the worst decision for a lazy soul, but it was the perfect remedy for someone who simply needed to breathe.
The gently sloping road leading from her house to the town center was paved with worn gray bricks. The dropping temperature brought the characteristic chill of the coast, seeping through her clothes and making her shiver slightly, yet her mind felt unusually sharp and clear.
After fifteen minutes of leisurely walking, her steps halted at a street corner intersecting with the coastline. Tucked snugly between a bakery and a rustic tea shop was a vintage bookstore wearing the mantle of time. Tzuyu pushed the door open, and immediately, her senses were enveloped by an atmosphere she could never find in Seoul; it was the scent of yellowed paper and the faint tang of printing ink, all blended with the subtle aroma of roasted tea drifting from the cashier's counter.
Tzuyu lightly ran her fingers across the leather-bound spines, feeling the rough texture of the paper. Pausing in front of a shelf near the window, just as she reached out to pull a book, she caught herself slightly startled to realize someone was standing half-hidden behind the opposite aisle. The moment their eyes met, her heart missed a beat. It wasn't out of fear, but rather the instinct of someone living under the spotlight; she had anticipated her name being called, the sudden flash of a camera, or at the very least, a curious, scrutinizing gaze.
But there was nothing. The girl merely gave a polite nod out of basic courtesy before returning to her work. Her movements as she continued tidying up were so quiet that her canvas apron made only the softest rustling sound.
Tzuyu took a deep breath, letting her lungs fill with the pure aroma of roasted tea. Dropping her shoulders, she confidently pulled the hardcover volume from its place and walked slowly toward the counter.
"I'll take this one."
"Sure." A small wooden name tag pinned to her shirt bore the neatly carved name: Myoui Mina. The shopkeeper's voice was soft and airy, like the mist over the beach. Mina accepted the book with both hands, pulled out a thin sheet of light brown kraft paper, and meticulously bundled it up.
"The wind is picking up," Mina said, sliding the neat parcel toward Tzuyu. "The beach gets quite cold at night, so make sure to wrap up warm on your way back."
Clutching the package close to her chest, with the faint scent of glue and pine wood still lingering on the paper, Tzuyu felt an invisible warmth seep through her thin sweatshirt. "Thank you..."
The brass wind chimes hanging above the entrance rang with a crystal-clear tone as Tzuyu pushed the door open to step outside. Having gone through the trouble of escaping to the coast to breathe in the salty sea air all day, sticking to instant noodles and toast would truly be an insult to nature. A trip to the sea demanded seafood.
As dusk fell, the seaside eateries began to light up, illuminating the coast. The lively chatter of diners blended with the crashing waves. The smoky scent of burning charcoal, intertwined with the rich aroma of grilled seafood with scallion oil, drifted down the street, quickening her pace. Tzuyu turned into a casual, open-air restaurant where round aluminum tables were packed close together.
The moment she sank into a blue plastic chair, a woman with a radiant smile that revealed a pair of charming rabbit teeth briskly approached, holding a menu while wiping the tabletop clean with a spotless cloth.
"Hi there! You look new around here, visiting from the city? Are you dining alone?" The owner asked in a bright, high-pitched voice bubbling with energy.
In stark contrast to Mina's quiet, reserved demeanor from earlier, this bursting enthusiasm captured the rustic, lively spirit of a coastal town. Tzuyu nodded, ordering grilled scallops with scallion oil, a bowl of steamed clams, and a cold beer.
The owner gave a wink, spun on her heel, and shouted toward the open kitchen glowing with fiery charcoal, "Hey, Yoo Jeongyeon! Table fifteen! One grilled scallop, one steamed clam, and make it good! We have a gorgeous VIP guest!"
From amidst the billowing white smoke, a woman looked up to give the owner a sharp glare. "I got it, you old hag! Just ring up the bill and stop screaming in my ear!"
A short while later, a glowing charcoal brazier and a tray of fresh seafood arrived at her table. The rich aroma of scallion oil burst into the air the moment the first scallops hit the grate. However, Tzuyu quickly found herself struggling. Juices from the shells sizzled against the hot coals, sending up fine flakes of floating ash, while stray drops of hot oil spluttered outward, forcing her to flinch back. Frowning, she tried using the iron tongs to flip a scallop, but the slick surface kept sliding out of her grip.
As she fumbled with the intensifying flames, a figure rising from a small table two rows away caught the corner of Tzuyu's eye.
It was her military neighbor, her low-profile cap pulled down to conceal half her face. It appeared she had also just finished dining alone. As she passed the open kitchen, she tapped her knuckles against the stainless-steel counter, catching the attention of the chef, Jeongyeon, and tipped her chin toward Tzuyu's table.
"The air vent on that stove over there is wide open. The shells are burning up."
Jeongyeon poked her head out to check and clicked her tongue in realization. "Ah, tourists aren't used to these kinds of grills. Thanks, Captain Kim!"
With that, Jeongyeon grabbed a long pair of grill tools and marched straight over to Tzuyu. "Let me give you a hand here. You have to close the damper a little on these things, or everything turns to charcoal."
Tzuyu gladly surrendered the metal implement to the professional. Her eyes instinctively drifted toward the exit, but Captain Kim had already vanished into the night.
The night sea breeze carried a sharp, biting chill, slipping through her athletic jacket and forcing Tzuyu to quicken her pace. The distant murmur of waves crashing against the cliffs served as a steady backdrop to the stray thoughts drifting through her mind.
A military officer... what was her life in the army actually like? Was every day filled with grueling training under the sun and wind, dictated by strict orders and an iron discipline that left no room for weakness? Yet, that very same person had recognized the need for a refuge for the little fish, and had salvaged her dinner in the middle of a chaotic restaurant.
But what is her name?
Tzuyu suddenly realized her curiosity was pushing the boundaries for someone she had only crossed paths with a few times. Yet, in this unfamiliar place, where she had gone to great lengths to escape flashing cameras and manufactured scripts, the presence of this enigmatic neighbor felt incredibly real and captivating.
As she reached her gate, Tzuyu noticed the porch light next door was still dimly lit. Captain Kim was sitting on the steps, her cap removed and placed beside her, letting her shoulder-length black hair fall naturally. She had traded her uniform for a baggy, ash-gray hoodie, holding a small block of wood and a carving knife in her hands.
Hearing footsteps pause, the woman stopped her work and looked up. Under the faint amber glow, her eyes met Tzuyu's dazed gaze.
Tzuyu lightly tugged at the edge of her jacket, took a deep breath filled with the night mist, and gathered the courage to step closer to the fence. "About earlier at the restaurant... thank you. And for yesterday, too."
The other woman casually brushed off the thin wood shavings clinging to her clothes before speaking. "The vent on that grill was wide open; if you aren't used to flipping things fast, both the shell and the meat burn. It was nothing."
Seeing her neighbor about to look back down to continue her work, Tzuyu hastily called out, as if fearing that if she let this moment slip away, she would carry a tangled web of questions with her to bed. "I'm Chou Tzuyu. The people at the restaurant called you Captain Kim... but, what is your name?"
The soldier slowly raised her head, her gaze drifting over the other girl's face, which was flushed from the sea breeze. This time, Tzuyu could swear she saw the corner of the woman's lips twitch into a faint smirk, so subtle that without her undivided attention, it could easily have been mistaken for an illusion created by the hazy glow.
"Kim Dahyun. Unless you're planning to steal military secrets, just Dahyun is fine."
In the days that followed, Tzuyu grew accustomed to being awakened by the rumble of a starting engine at six-thirty in the morning, except on weekends. The sound was so regular and precise that she no longer needed an alarm clock. She would leisurely burrow in her blankets a moment longer, listening as the tires rolled further down the road, before finally pulling herself out of bed.
Her decision to replace the chipped pot coaxed Tzuyu out of the house on a cool afternoon. Following the directions given by the restaurant owners a few days prior, she turned into a narrow alley hidden behind the main thoroughfare. Her destination was a pottery studio where a miniature wooden plaque carved with a strawberry dangled beneath a blooming bougainvillea trellis.
Inside, she found a space of artistic chaos. Shelves groaned under the weight of ceramic pieces in all sorts of peculiar shapes, some half-baked, others shimmering with glossy glazes. The architect of this clutter sat flat on the floor, her canvas apron splattered with dried clay and streaks of acrylic paint. With her messy short hair and sleeves rolled up high, the girl was intensely kneading a block of clay. At the sound of footsteps, she looked up.
"It's self-service today, so feel free to browse," the studio owner said nonchalantly, her attention already returning to her work. "Just don't touch the stuff on the top shelf. They haven't been fired yet."
Tzuyu lightly ran her fingers over warped mugs and plates adorned with abstract patterns. Eventually, her gaze settled on a low shelf. Tucked away was a ceramic hideaway, shaped like a stone eroded by water, coated in a naturally rippled, moss-green glaze. The opening in the center was spacious enough for her carp to glide through with ease.
Cradling the piece, she walked over to the large wooden table in the center of the room where the messy-haired artist was still working away. "I'll take this one," Tzuyu said softly, careful not to startle her.
The girl looked up, wiping her hands on a damp towel draped over her shoulder. "Sure, let me wrap it. Watch out for the bumps on your way back; it's low-fired clay, so it breaks easily."
While waiting, Tzuyu's eyes drifted across a cluttered corner of the counter. Squeezed between crumpled tubes of acrylic paint and frayed brushes sat a half-carved wooden block. Right beside it was a canvas tote covered in sawdust. Noticing Tzuyu staring, the girl wrapped a strand of twine around the cardboard box and let out a sigh, her voice sounding childish yet oddly like an old soul.
"Don't mind that mess. It belongs to some lady in the military. She's always gathering wood shavings and pine scraps from the base's woodshop and bringing them here for my kiln, then making me pay her back in ceramics."
The clues clicked together in Tzuyu's mind, shaping into a very familiar figure. Then again, Gangneung was a coastal town with a major military base, so female officers were likely common. Tzuyu carefully tossed out a casual probe. "Sounds like... a rather serious and resourceful person."
"Serious, sure, but she's bizarre. No matter how much time she spends out in the sun and rain on the training grounds, her skin stays as pale as fresh tofu. Last month, I messed up a mug, it was totally warped, but Captain Kim insisted on taking it anyway just to... hold her socks."
Tzuyu lowered her head, an uncontainable smile tugging at her lips. A strange, comforting warmth bloomed in her chest. It turned out that the neighbor who always hid behind a rigid, detached facade had a side to her that was completely ordinary and delightfully goofy.
"Thank you," Tzuyu said as she accepted the package, leaving behind some spare bills as a tip before heading for the door.
"Come back soon! I'm Son Chaeyoung!" the potter's bright voice called out behind her.
After carefully submerging her new ceramic hideaway to the bottom of the pond, Tzuyu dragged her rattan chair onto the porch, sitting leisurely to watch the orange-and-white carp darting playfully through the rounded opening.
Yet, while her eyes were on the fish, her mind was miles away. Dangling the tips of her fluffy slippers, she occasionally glanced through the gaps in the fence, her thoughts still tethered to the canvas bag of sawdust and Chaeyoung's chatter. She wondered if she should offer a bright smile when Captain Kim returned today with her usual stoic face, or if it would be better to just quietly watch her retreating shoulders and hide a quiet grin to herself.
As twilight gradually deepened, painting the sky over the sea in shades of violet before fading into a vast, velvety black, the familiar symphony of the town filled the air. Every sound was fully present, yet the expected rumble of the jeep engine was nowhere to be heard.
Seven o'clock came, then eight-thirty. The neighboring courtyard remained dark and strangely quiet. Tzuyu went inside to reheat some seaweed soup, bringing the bowl to the dining table by the window so she could look out while she ate. Before coming here, this absolute stillness was exactly what she had yearned for most.
Yet right now, with that silence fully restored, an unfamiliar emptiness crept into her chest. Was this what life in the military was like? To leave at dawn and not return after dark, without a single word of warning, leaving no one to know whether they were stationed among the rugged mountains or out on the vast sea.
That night, Tzuyu purposely left her porch light burning bright. She lay tossing and turning in bed, her ears pricking up at every distant rumble of a car passing the main road, only to drift back into a restless sleep as the sound faded into nothingness.
The next morning, without the familiar engine to serve as her alarm, Tzuyu slept in for a few extra hours. It wasn't until she finished making a warm cup of milk coffee and stepped out onto the porch to water the plants that she accepted the truth: the day had begun with a missing rhythm.
Around one in the afternoon, while Tzuyu was dozing off over her novel on the sofa, the unmistakable purr of the jeep finally returned. Her heart involuntarily skipped a beat. Placing her book face down on the table, she stepped through the glass door, feigning a casual desire for a breath of fresh air.
The person stepping down from the vehicle lacked her usual immaculate appearance. Her combat fatigues were splattered with mud that had dried hard around the hems of her trousers, and the backpack on her shoulders seemed far too heavy for a frame slouching with exhaustion. Beneath the low brim of her cap, her typically sharp eyes were webbed with bloodshot lines from a severe lack of sleep.
Tzuyu didn't just give a polite nod this time. She stepped out completely from the shade of the porch, approaching the boundary between their yards. "Are you exhausted?" Tzuyu asked gently.
"Field duty... a bit draining. I'm fine," Dahyun replied, trying to salvage a trace of her rigid military posture, though the fatigue in her voice betrayed her.
"I cooked a bit too much earlier... I still have some food left. It's already warmed up." Tzuyu hesitated for a moment, surprised by her own initiative. "Would you like to come over and have a bite before you catch up on sleep?"
Silence fell between them. The iron discipline of a soldier had always taught Dahyun to decline unnecessary help, handle her own problems, and avoid troubling others. Yet, standing before those crystal-clear eyes, all of Captain Kim's rigid principles seemed to vanish into thin air.
"Then... sorry for the intrusion."
Tzuyu turned to open the small wooden cabinet at the entryway. A moment later, a pair of fluffy white slippers adorned with drooping rabbit ears was placed neatly in front of Dahyun's heavy footwear.
Dahyun’s gaze wavered slightly. She looked up, but her neighbor had already turned back into the kitchen. Unlacing her mud-caked boots, Dahyun slipped her feet into the plush warmth. The sight of a military officer in rugged tactical gear walking around in floppy rabbit slippers was admittedly comical; however, Tzuyu chose to hide her smile to preserve the dignity of her very first guest.
The meal proceeded in silence, though it carried no sense of awkwardness. Dahyun ate quickly and cleanly, a testament to a soldier used to consuming field rations in a matter of minutes, yet she maintained a basic, polite composure.
Once the last grain of rice was finished, Dahyun picked up both empty bowls and the side dish plates, naturally standing up to walk toward the sink.
"Let me take care of that. Just sit and rest, you've been up all night," Tzuyu quickly rose to stop her.
"You cooked, I clean. That's the rule."
Knowing she couldn't argue with a soldier applying iron discipline right in her own kitchen, Tzuyu grabbed a clean cotton towel and stood beside Dahyun at the sink.
Dahyun rinsed the soap suds from a porcelain bowl, intending to place it on the drying rack, when a pair of slender hands reached out to receive it. Tzuyu carefully dried the remaining droplets with her towel before neatly stacking the dish on the shelf. Their movements fell into a strangely harmonious rhythm.
At such a close distance, Tzuyu noticed for the first time that the other woman was nearly a head shorter than her. Her eyes inadvertently fell upon the fingers submerged in the soap suds. They were by no means the soft palms typical of women her age. Rough calluses coated her knuckles, and the backs of her hands bore shallow, raw scratches from forest thorns, interspersed with faint, older scars.
The skin peeking out from her rolled-up sleeves was indeed remarkably pale, just as the potter Chaeyoung had described. Looking only at her stature, one could easily mistake her for a delicate figure in need of protection. Yet, the angry red marks on those hands silently told a completely different story.
As an actress, Tzuyu was well-acquainted with scripts that glorified heroism. She had worked with countless leading men boasting broad, imposing shoulders playing special forces operatives; she had seen on-screen heroines sporting elaborate fake scars meticulously crafted by makeup artists using silicone. In her mind, greatness had always worn a rugged, larger-than-life exterior, amplified by explosive, epic camera angles.
Yet at this very moment, all those glamorous preconceptions shattered before the girl standing right here in her kitchen. This small, rigid Captain Kim was more real and magnificent than any protagonist Tzuyu had ever looked up to on those vibrant posters. A wave of profound emotion surged in her chest, a mixture of respect, admiration, and a vague, tender ache.
When the final bowl was dried and placed on the shelf, Dahyun found her wrist caught in a gentle but firm grip.
"Your hands are injured," Tzuyu said, her eyes locked onto the raw, crimson scratches crisscrossing her knuckles and rough skin.
Captain Kim looked down, then immediately pulled her hand back with her usual indifference. "Oh, it's just a surface scratch, nothing worth noting. It'll scab over by tomorrow."
To an officer who had endured injuries and training regimes a hundred times harsher on the field, a few minor cuts were truly not worth a second thought; Dahyun hadn't even considered disinfecting them.
Yet, in contrast to Dahyun's detachment, Tzuyu was uncharacteristically stubborn today. She didn't know where the sudden courage came from, but she held the other woman firmly in place once more. "Go sit on the sofa."
"Really, there's no need. This is nothing to me, I'm used to it..."
"But it's not nothing to me," Tzuyu interrupted. "If you go to sleep like this, it will sting when it rubs against the sheets. If you don't let me clean it, I'll feel too guilty to sleep tonight."
Dahyun opened her mouth to argue further, but it ultimately dissolved into a soft sigh. She followed the gentle pull, quietly sitting down on the living room sofa.
Tzuyu pulled a floor cushion over, sitting flat on the rug right across from Dahyun. She extracted a cotton swab from the first-aid kit and soaked it in antiseptic solution. "This might sting a bit," she whispered before bowing her head, carefully dabbing the tip onto the longest scratch.
Captain Kim instinctively flinched, not from pain, but because this incredibly gentle touch felt entirely foreign. Tzuyu's hands were soft and warm, cradling her rough hand as if holding a piece of fragile porcelain.
Looking down from this angle, Dahyun could only see the crown of Tzuyu's light brown hair and the long eyelashes casting shadows as she focused entirely on her task. A strange, soothing sensation, like warm water rippling through a dry, barren core, welled up inside the soldier's heart.
"My skin is quite thick... you don't have to be so gentle."
Tzuyu peeled open an adhesive bandage and pressed it neatly over the wound. Smoothing down the edges to ensure it stuck firmly, Tzuyu finally looked up, an involuntary smile curving her lips.
"No matter how thick it is, it's still flesh and blood, and it still feels pain. Be a little more careful next time. Don't rely so much on being good at enduring it."
The arrival of Minatozaki Sana was like a pink whirlwind, sweeping away the tranquil order that Tzuyu had painstakingly established over the past week.
One afternoon, Sana stepped out of a taxi with three oversized suitcases, a large pair of sunglasses concealing half her face, and her signature explosive energy. She threw her arms around Tzuyu, simultaneously complaining about the long journey and marveling at the crisp air, before briskly wheeling her luggage into the house as if it were her own domain.
Watching her close friend's retreating figure, Tzuyu silently said a prayer for her own peace, and particularly for the military officer next door.
Sana was renowned in the entertainment world not just for her dazzling beauty but also for her unyielding habit of teasing and flirting. She possessed a natural gift for turning the most mundane small talk into something suggestive, using nothing but a sparkling gaze and a honey-sweet smile. Her favorite targets were invariably those with a rigid, stoic exterior; someone exactly like Captain Kim Dahyun, for instance.
Throughout the first two days, Tzuyu did everything in her power to keep Sana indoors. When her guest lounged on the sofa watching television, Tzuyu would eagerly volunteer to peel fruit, brew tea, and even tackle chores she would normally postpone until late afternoon. Whenever the rumble of the jeep echoed at six-thirty in the morning or the vehicle pulled in at dusk, Tzuyu would hastily turn up the volume or invent a conversation to divert her friend's attention.
Yet, human plans are easily thwarted. On the afternoon of the third day, while Tzuyu dozed off over her book, Sana wandered out to the courtyard, leisurely strolling around the pond and watching with delight as the little carp navigated through the moss-glazed ceramic cave.
Right then, the familiar roar of an engine echoed from the top of the slope. The high-clearance, olive-green military jeep glided forward, turning sharply into the adjacent driveway before its engine cut out. Driven by a newly formed habit, Dahyun glanced toward the pebble-lined pond next door to see how the fish were faring before heading inside.
But instead of Tzuyu's messy brown hair, Dahyun was met with a complete stranger. The woman wore a glamorous ruby-pink silk slip dress, her brightly dyed hair billowing in the sea breeze as she leaned against the fence with her arms crossed, studying Dahyun with an amused gaze.
The flirting instinct in Sana’s heart instantly flared up at the sight of the combat fatigues and the strikingly pale skin of the woman before her. "Well, aren't you quite dashing? So this is why our Tzuyu keeps hiding away in Gangneung and refuses to return to Seoul."
Dahyun cleared her throat, attempting to maintain a stern tone as she stood rigidly straight out of habit. "Hello, I am Miss Chou’s neighbor."
"You look... a bit too cute for a soldier. Driving such a rugged vehicle and enduring the sun and rain on the training grounds, isn't it exhausting?"
While Dahyun was so flustered that the tips of her ears flushed a crimson red, a tall figure dashed out from the porch. Although the familiar rumble of the jeep had already stirred Tzuyu, it was Sana's sugary, melodic voice that fully jolted her awake. Panicking, she rushed forward, grabbing Sana by the shoulders and pulling her backward, using her own tall frame to completely block her friend's view.
"Sana! What are you doing?" Tzuyu hissed under her breath, her voice trembling with embarrassment. Turning toward Dahyun, she caught sight of the Captain’s rigid shoulders and deeply flushed face. "Captain Kim, she is my friend. She's just joking, please don't mind her."
Like a lifeline thrown into a raging flood, Dahyun caught the excuse, nodded frantically, and muttered, "It's fine. I'll head inside first."
With that, the Captain clutched her backpack tightly, turned on her heel, and took long, brisk strides straight into her house, nearly tripping over the brick step in her haste.
Only after the wooden door shut did Tzuyu finally exhale, leaning heavily against it as if she had just endured an exhausting action sequence. She turned around, met instantly with the knowing, mischievous look on Sana's face.
"Wow, Chou Tzuyu," Sana said, drawing out her words with deliberate insinuation as she stepped closer. "I've been by your side for so many years, yet I've never seen your reflexes work that fast. Your protective display just now was exactly like a mother hen ruffling her feathers to shield her chick from a hawk."
"Stop talking nonsense," Tzuyu stammered, averting her eyes. "Captain Kim is a serious person. If you tease her like that, she’s going to think poorly of us."
"What nonsense? Do you have any idea how you looked at me when you stood in my way just now? Your eyes practically screamed that if I dared utter another word, you'd immediately deport me back to Seoul."
Tzuyu's ears burned a brilliant crimson, the heat creeping all the way down her neck. She pressed her lips together, utterly defenseless to justify her impulsive behavior. Sana's sudden presence acted like a mirror, forcing her to look directly at the burgeoning emotion she had been desperately trying to label as mere neighborly goodwill.
When the clock on her nightstand struck ten at night, Sana finally surrendered to exhaustion after a day spent expending far too much energy.
Tzuyu stepped softly out onto the porch, carefully pulling the glass door nearly shut so as not to make a sound. She walked toward the wooden fence and looked over at the adjacent property. Dahyun’s porch light was still burning, and the Captain was sitting on the steps. Dressed in a loose black t-shirt and holding a can of soda, she leaned her head back against the brick wall, gazing up at the velvety black night sky.
At the sound of movement, Dahyun slowly lowered her gaze, took a sip from her can, and strolled over to the shared fence. Her face had regained its typical sternness, completely free of the crimson flush from earlier that afternoon.
Lightly gripping a wooden slat, Tzuyu took the initiative to speak first. "Captain Kim... about this afternoon, I'm truly sorry. Sana didn't mean any harm; she's just used to joking around like that. Please don't take it to heart."
"It's nothing," Dahyun replied. "It's just... your friend is rather dangerous. If she were in my unit, she would face disciplinary action for disrupting order and risking a breach of military secrecy."
"Yes, she thrives on excitement. I'm sorry she bothered you with those teases when you're already so exhausted." Tzuyu pulled the lapels of her jacket a bit tighter. "The wind seems louder tonight than usual. Even from inside, I could hear the waves crashing quite clearly."
Dahyun looked up, watching the dark clouds sweeping rapidly across the night sky. "Northeast wind. The offshore waves are hitting hard right now. The maritime moisture gets pushed inland and collides with the cold mountain air, meaning a dense fog will blanket the town tomorrow morning. If you plan to take a walk or head down to the coast, it's best to wait until after nine o'clock, when the sun is fully up to burn the mist away."
"Thank you, Captain Kim. Tomorrow morning... will your jeep be heading out early as well?"
"Tomorrow is my day off." Dahyun cleared her throat softly, a rare hint of self-consciousness in her voice. "That jeep is an older model, so the engine is rather loud when it starts up. Over the last few days... has it been disrupting your sleep?"
Tzuyu caught herself slightly taken off guard by the question. Then, realizing what she meant, she offered a gentle shake of her head. "Not at all. In fact, it is far more precise than the alarm clock on my nightstand. Thanks to your engine, I haven't overslept once these past few days."
Tzuyu's response, a blend of honest truth and tender reassurance, completely eased the lingering guilt in Dahyun’s chest.
"Good, then. The wind is turning harsh; get inside."
"I will. Make sure to get some rest as well. Good night, Dahyun."
Tzuyu offered a faint nod before slowly turning back toward her door. Her steps were light, her heart suddenly enveloped by a profound and unfamiliar sense of peace.
The next morning, the maritime fog rolled into the town exactly as Captain Kim had predicted. Looking out from the porch, the boundaries separating the sky, the sea, and the sloping road seemed completely erased by a thick curtain of milky white, carrying a bone-chilling dampness.
Inside, Sana remained fast asleep, curled up snugly in her warm blankets, completely surrendering to the weather. Tzuyu, on the other hand, felt this dense fog was like a perfect invisibility cloak gifted by nature. She hastily wrapped a woolen scarf around her neck, slipped into a knee-length charcoal overcoat, and prepared to walk down to the town bakery for breakfast.
As she stepped outside, Tzuyu caught sight of Dahyun standing by the hood of her tactical vehicle. Bundled up in a high-collared military puffer jacket, the Captain was using a dry cloth to carefully wipe away the thick condensation from the rearview mirrors and windshield.
Hearing the click of the door latch, Dahyun turned around. "Are you planning to walk down to town in this weather?"
"Yes," Tzuyu nodded, pulling her collar higher. "Just going to grab some bread. Sana-unnie will probably complain if she wakes up to an empty stomach."
"Dressed like that on the slope, you'll blend right into the fog. Passing vehicles won't be able to spot you from a safe distance."
"Oh... then let me go back in and change."
"No need, it's too much trouble, and you'll miss the fresh batch out of the oven," Dahyun said, waving her hand.
Dahyun unlatched the tool storage at the back of her vehicle. A few seconds later, she walked over to the fence, holding out a heavy black metal tactical flashlight and a brilliant orange reflective strap. She quickly wrapped the band around Tzuyu's sleeve, firmly pressing the Velcro shut, before slipping the flashlight into Tzuyu's palm.
"This cuts through fog well. When you cross the intersection, double-click the tail switch to turn on the strobe so oncoming cars know you're there." Dahyun stepped back, examining her handiwork with a satisfied nod. "Alright, you're good to go. Keep to the shoulder."
Tzuyu looked down at the neon orange band. It was completely ridiculous and mismatched, devoid of even a shred of fashion. Yet, an uncontrollable smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked back at Dahyun.
"I'll remember. Thanks, Dahyun."
By the time Tzuyu returned with the bag of warm, fresh bread, the fog had begun to thin, giving way to bright sunbeams that gilded the sea. Breakfast was filled with Sana's usual dramatic energy. Later, as the two brought their teacups out to the porch to enjoy the morning warmth, the familiar rumble of the engine echoed once more.
Dahyun was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt over a white t-shirt, her sleeves rolled up high to reveal her toned forearms. She was inspecting the tires, seemingly preparing to head out. Spotting her neighbors on the porch, Dahyun looked up and dusted off her hands. "Heading down to the harbor market for some fresh seafood. The coastal road is beautiful today, do you two want to tag along for a change of scenery?"
Sana, whose radar for anything romantic was unparalleled, immediately clutched her stomach with an entirely exaggerated wince. "Oh ouch... my stomach is suddenly killing me, the local food must not agree with me. Tzuyu, you go ahead, and grab me some fruit while you're out. I'll head inside to lie down."
With that, Sana vanished back inside the house in a flash, leaving Tzuyu standing there dumbfounded. Tzuyu could only sigh at her friend's atrocious acting skills.
"You... don't mind?" Tzuyu asked softly.
"Hop in," Dahyun replied curtly, walking around to pull open the massive passenger door of the high-clearance military vehicle.
The passenger window was rolled down halfway, allowing the briny sea breeze to rush in and ruffle Tzuyu's light brown hair. She closed her eyes slightly, taking a deep breath.
"Thank you," Tzuyu suddenly said.
"For what? The free ride?"
"For everything..." Tzuyu tilted her head, admiring her companion's profile.
The jeep pulled into an open lot near the harbor. The scene unfolding before them was a vibrant, chaotic portrait of coastal life; blue and red tarps stretched across stalls, loud bargaining echoed through the air, and water slicked the concrete ground. Because it was the weekend, the market was exceptionally crowded.
Suddenly, Tzuyu felt a hand shoot out, firmly grasping her elbow to pull her forward. A split second later, dirty water splashed violently as a motorized cart laden with styrofoam boxes sped past, grazing the exact spot where she had been standing.
"Stay close to me. There's no right of way at the docks," Dahyun warned, her steady voice easily cutting through the cacophony.
From that point onward, the Captain naturally moved half a step ahead. Her broad shoulders carved a path through the narrow aisles, unconsciously forming a shield that protected Tzuyu from leaking bins and the jostling of the crowd.
Tzuyu followed obediently. On her previous solo trip to the market, she had to keep her eyes peeled and her senses on high alert. Today, watching the solid back shielding her, she was suddenly reminded of her childhood in Tainan, when she would trail behind her mother, clutching her hem through the crowded traditional markets. She had been small and fragile then, yet entirely fearless, because someone was always ahead clearing the path, pushing away the chaos so she could walk in absolute peace, oblivious to the muddy puddles beneath her feet.
Watching her companion interact with the locals was a fascinating experience. Stripping away her rigid household demeanor, Dahyun effortlessly slipped into the local dialect to haggle over a basket of scallops and a fresh tuna, occasionally offering a familiar nod to the vendors.
As they walked back to the parking lot along a narrow side street, the assignment given by Sana suddenly crossed Tzuyu's mind. She stopped before a local fruit stall overflowing with baskets of ripe strawberries and bright tangerines.
"Hold on, I need to get some fruit. If I go back empty-handed, Sana-unnie's 'stomach ache' will definitely progress into a full-blown tantrum."
"Too sick to walk, yet she asks for sour strawberries and citrus. Your friend has a fascinating digestive system."
The moment the vendor finished tying up the plastic bag containing the bulky cartons of fruit, Dahyun reached out with her free hand to take it. "Let me take that. The handles are thin; carrying something this heavy will dig into your skin."
Tzuyu strolled along beside her, hands slipped comfortably into her pockets. Looking at Dahyun, whose frame wasn't particularly large but carried the weight with absolute ease, she felt a sudden pang of envy toward the soldiers in Captain Kim's unit. They must feel incredibly safe under a commander so protective and attentive.
The jeep glided smoothly along the coastal highway. Dahyun drove with her usual intense focus, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console. The passenger window remained cracked open, allowing a brisk breeze to drift inside.
"Captain Kim," Tzuyu spoke up out of nowhere.
"What is it? Too cold?" Dahyun reached toward the window switch.
"No," Tzuyu shook her head, her eyes lingering inquisitively on the driver. "I was just wondering... at your base, do you always carry things, shield your soldiers, and look after them like this?"
"It's a commander's job. If they get worn down or hurt because of preventable risks, that's on me."
"So protective and attentive... you must have quite a few admirers back at the base. Has anyone ever used a work excuse just to get close to you?"
"It happens. But their excuses are one thing; how I deal with it is another."
Tzuyu blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the captain's detached composure. "And... how do you deal with it?"
"The military has rules, and I have boundaries. I can tell the difference. A direct refusal paired with ten laps around the track for disrupting military discipline usually does the trick."
"Ten laps? You're brutal, Captain," Tzuyu teased, the strange, baseless jealousy in her chest completely evaporating.
"So," Dahyun said, pulling the jeep to the curb and engaging the handbrake as they arrived home, "stop watching so many dramas and trying to apply them to me."
The five bustling days with Minatozaki Sana finally came to an end, marked by the clattering sound of suitcase wheels rolling across the textured brick courtyard. Tzuyu let out a sigh of relief as she tucked the last paper bag filled with strawberries and dried seafood into the backseat of the taxi Sana had called.
"Have fun shooting your show. Remember to text me when you get back to Seoul," Tzuyu said, gently smoothing out the creases on her close friend’s coat.
Sana stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Tzuyu’s shoulders. Leaning in close, she whispered into her ear, "I'm off, leaving you to your peace and quiet so you can recover. But hey, Captain Kim might let my excuse slide once, but it won't work forever. He is pretty sharp."
Sana patted her back and let out a soft chuckle. "Personally, I think the two of you look great together. Take advantage of the fact that no one is keeping an eye out in this small town. If you like him, just step right over that fence. Don't be a coward and keep hiding behind it."
"You... just get in the car before you catch traffic," Tzuyu stammered, gently nudging Sana's shoulders as she quickly changed the subject to hide her racing heart.
That evening, Tzuyu sat cross-legged on the rattan chair on the porch, flipping through a few pages of her half-read novel. Hearing the familiar engine cut out, she raised her eyes. Through the gaps in the fence, she saw Dahyun stepping down from the vehicle. The officer was still wearing her combat fatigues, but her demeanor appeared less exhausted compared to her previous shift.
Noticing Dahyun looking around Tzuyu's yard, searching for the bright-haired girl who was usually there, Tzuyu curled deeper into her thin blanket. She didn't make a sound, simply letting a quiet smile play on her lips.
"Your friend went back?" Dahyun asked.
"Yes. She had to go back for her schedule. The house is quiet again."
"Have you eaten dinner yet?"
Tzuyu shook her head. "Not yet. I got a bit lazy after helping her pack this afternoon, so I was just going to make some instant noodles..."
"Don't keep eating instant noodles, it's terrible for your stomach. Last time I came back from duty, you made dinner. To keep things fair, it's my turn today. How does grilled meat sound?"
Tzuyu burst out laughing, her eyes curving into beautiful crescents. "So... should I use the main gate, or climb over the fence, Captain?"
"You can climb over if you like, just don't get hurt."
Just a few minutes later, Tzuyu threw on a thin cardigan and stepped into Captain Kim's territory. Dahyun's courtyard perfectly reflected a soldier's style: neat, minimalist, and devoid of any unnecessary decorations. In the center of the yard, a small cast-iron grill was already glowing with red-hot charcoal. She had shed her combat fatigues for a comfortable black sweatshirt and was skillfully using iron tongs to arrange slices of pork belly on the grate.
Tzuyu pulled up a camping chair and sat opposite her. The fat sizzled as it dripped onto the charcoal, sending up a mouth-watering aroma that blended into the chilly night air of the sea. Dahyun grilled the meat with the precision of someone on a mission; every piece was cooked to a perfect golden brown, sliced into even strips, and pushed to the edge of the grate closest to Tzuyu.
"Eat up, don't let it get cold," Dahyun said, sliding an open can of barley beer toward her.
Tzuyu smiled, wrapping a piece of meat before popping it into her mouth. The simple seasoning and rich flavor tasted better than any high-end restaurant she had ever frequented in Seoul. Reaching for the cold can on the table, she pressed the condensation-covered aluminum against her face to soothe the slight heat radiating from the fire.
"You grill with the precision of a military parade, Captain," Tzuyu teased.
"When you spend days in the forest, cooking over an open flame is just a basic survival skill. Your friend seems like a very energetic person. With her sudden departure, doesn't it feel a bit empty?"
"A little, but I'm used to it. In Seoul, the more I stand in a crowd under the blinding lights, the more adrift I feel. Escaping to this town, initially I just wanted a place where no one would recognize me, where no one would scrutinize or judge me anymore."
The cold alcohol spreading through her veins, combined with the warmth of the fire, seemed to grant Tzuyu a surge of courage she usually kept locked away. Recalling Sana's teasing words, she took a deep breath and looked directly at the woman opposite her with clear eyes.
"Captain Kim..."
"Hmm?" Dahyun raised her head.
"Until now, when people look at me, they see either a glittering movie star on screen or a strategic asset for the company..." Tzuyu decided to take a gamble, pushing herself out of her comfort zone. "What about you? In your eyes, what kind of person am I?"
Dahyun pulled out a tissue to wipe her slightly greasy fingers, then looked directly back at Tzuyu calmly. "At first, I thought you were unapproachable. But now, I see you're stubborn but very warm, doing things just because I ask you to."
The heat from the charcoal grill was no longer the sole culprit behind the flush creeping up Tzuyu's cheeks. She hastily pressed the cold beer can even harder against her face, as if using the icy aluminum to extinguish her growing embarrassment. Her eyes dropped, flustered, avoiding her neighbor's deep gaze. She protested in a tiny voice.
"Because... you always use that commanding tone, like you're on the training grounds. I didn't exactly have a choice; it's not because I'm stubborn."
"Alright, I forced you then," Dahyun playfully went along with it. At the same time, she picked up a perfectly charred piece of pork belly and placed it neatly into Tzuyu's porcelain bowl. "Eat some more. Having too much beer on an empty stomach will make it hard to sleep tonight."
The meal lasted until the very last embers of charcoal turned into a glowing bed of ash. Tzuyu proactively helped Dahyun gather the dishes and bring them to the sink. In the minimalist kitchen, devoid of any modern dishwasher, the two fell back into their familiar rhythm: one washing, one drying. As she reached the gate to head back home, Tzuyu suddenly paused.
"Dahyun..." Tzuyu called softly, her voice drifting with the wind.
"What is it? Did you forget something?"
"Tomorrow... can I crash your lunch?"
Under the dim yellow light of the porch, Tzuyu saw the military officer freeze for a split second. But immediately after, a gentle nod and a warm, deep voice responded.
"Sure. Just text me what you want to eat. I'll be hitting the market early."
While the sea fog still hung like a hazy curtain, the characteristic rumble of the tactical jeep echoed through the air. In the bedroom next door, a soft groan rose from the tangled mess of blankets and pillows. Tzuyu furrowed her brows, with great difficulty cracking one eye open. Her foggy consciousness reminded her of the promise she had made last night.
"Captain Kim is preparing to go to the market... I have to get up... I was the one who insisted on tagging along..."
Tzuyu forced herself to try and throw off the duvet. However, the dawn chill slipping through the cracks of the window hit her skin, and combined with the utterly comforting gravitational pull of the mattress, it delivered a fatal blow. Tzuyu blinked, telling herself, "Just closing my eyes for five more minutes, once I'm a bit more awake I'll head out."
And naturally, five minutes to a lazy soul is always a highly dangerous threshold. By the time the crunch of tires grinding against the gravel road finally faded into the distance, she had officially drifted right back to sleep.
When Tzuyu startled wide awake for the second time, sunlight was already pouring through the windowpane, shining directly onto her face. Panicking, she threw off the blanket and bolted upright, running her fingers through her messy hair. Slipping into her fluffy slippers, she dashed out onto the porch, her heart pounding with guilt.
In the adjacent courtyard, the jeep had been parked back in its spot for who knew how long. Captain Kim was sitting on a small stool, skillfully scaling a fresh sea fish next to the outdoor tap, surrounded by a bounty of baskets filled with crisp, green vegetables.
Tzuyu tiptoed over to the fence, her hands gripping the wooden slats. Peeking over with her frizzy hair and a sleepy yet deeply apologetic face, she looked across.
"I... I overslept. When you left earlier... why didn't you wake me up?"
"I purposely idled the engine in front of your gate for about ten minutes. If I had honked the horn on top of that, I probably would have woken up the entire fishing village. Yet, your door didn't budge a single inch."
"It's just... the bed here is too soft. Plus, the cold morning mist makes it so easy to get drowsy..."
Dahyun tipped her chin toward a small stone table on the porch, where a paper bag was emitting a thin trail of steam. "You were the one who said my engine was your alarm clock the other day. Oh well, go grab breakfast over there. If I had waited for you to go to the market together, we'd probably be starving by lunchtime."
Finishing her late breakfast, Tzuyu quickly dusted off her hands, rolled her knit sleeves up to her elbows, and cleared her throat to pump herself up. "Let me help out. Give me an assignment, Captain Kim."
"Wash those greens, then peel the radishes and onions. Watch out for the sharp knife, don't go slicing off your own fingers."
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Tzuyu laughed, pulling her chair closer to the water basin.
Although she occasionally cooked back in Seoul, the skills of an artist who lived on takeout all year round could hardly compare to a soldier's. Tzuyu carefully peeled each layer of the onion. In less than two minutes, the pungent essential oils began to assault her tear ducts. Tears welled up in her eyes and her nose stung. She had to blink constantly, trying to use the back of her free hand to rub at the corners of her eyes.
Spotting her neighbor's bloodshot, watery eyes, sniffing nose, and grimacing face, Dahyun set down her knife, grabbed a clean towel to quickly wipe her hands, and stepped closer. "You're letting a single onion bully you? Close your eyes and go wash your face with cold water. Let me handle this."
Tzuyu obediently turned on the tap, scooping handfuls of icy water to splash onto her stinging eyes. The refreshing chill quickly soothed the burning sensation, restoring her clear vision. Sweeping away a few wet strands of bangs clinging to her forehead, she took a deep breath, gathered her wits, and ran back out to the front yard.
"Dahyun, I'm recovered. Let me finish..."
Yet, just as Tzuyu rolled up her sleeves and stepped up to the stone ledge, the entire batch of onions had already been perfectly diced, sitting neatly inside a small glass bowl.
Dahyun stood not far away, leisurely rinsing the onion juices off her knife under the running water. Hearing Tzuyu's footsteps, she didn't even look up, merely tipping her chin toward a blue plastic basket sitting on the stool nearby. "Your mission is to wash that basket of enoki mushrooms and those cherry tomatoes. Requirements: be gentle, do not crush them, and do not break the stems. Understood?"
Tzuyu cheerfully pulled her chair closer to the tap, dropping the tomatoes into the basin. "Understood, Captain. Mission will be accomplished flawlessly."
Lunch proceeded in an atmosphere so serene that Tzuyu almost forgot the person sitting across from her was not just an ordinary girl enjoying a vacation, but a military officer bearing the weight of national responsibility on her shoulders.
As Tzuyu was scooping a second, half-bowl of rice, Dahyun picked up a piece of snow-white sea fish, carefully deboned, and placed it neatly into her bowl. The Captain set down her chopsticks, took a sip from her glass of water, and cleared her throat softly.
"Eat up. Once we're done cleaning, I have to go up to the barracks. I won't be back tonight."
"Is it an emergency?" Tzuyu asked, trying to keep her tone as casual as possible, not wanting to sound like a child sulking over being left behind.
"Oh, no. Just the rotating command duty," Dahyun replied concisely. Her gaze swept over her neighbor's suddenly downcast face, and though unsaid, Captain Kim seemed to sense her disappointment. "Be good and stay home. Don't go wandering around after dark."
Just an hour later, the gentle atmosphere of the morning had completely vanished. When Dahyun stepped out of the house, she had shed her soft sweatshirt, clad instead in her solemn military uniform.
Tzuyu stood leaning against the fence, hands tucked into the pockets of her thin cardigan, silently watching Dahyun check the locks on the jeep.
"Captain Kim," Tzuyu said, extracting a tin of mints from her pocket and placing it into Dahyun's palm. "You always drink black coffee and stay up late, which leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Have these to stay alert. Also... the wind howls harder up there than by the sea, so make sure to wear an extra layer."
"I know. Remember to lock all the doors and windows securely. If anything happens, call the neighborhood management, or... text me. Even if I can't reply right away, I'll read it." Dahyun hesitated for a beat, seemingly wanting to add something else, but ultimately only uttered a low, quiet phrase: "Get inside, the wind is drafting out here."
That night, Tzuyu curled up on the living room sofa, the television still blaring lively variety shows, yet her eyes involuntarily drifted out the window toward the pitch-black courtyard next door. For the first time in years, a distinct wave of longing surged in her chest for someone.
Tzuyu reached for her phone on the table. The screen displayed the time as eleven-thirty at night. She opened her chat history with the number Dahyun had saved for her the other day. She typed and deleted, deleted and typed, wondering if the military had already turned off the lights for bed at this hour, or if they were still wide awake patrolling under the bone-chilling cold.
Finally, Tzuyu took a breath and hit send on a brief message:
[Captain Kim, I've locked up tightly. Stay safe on duty.]
Just as Tzuyu thought she would drift off to sleep with a dark phone screen, a soft text notification chimed. The reply was incredibly brief, completely in line with military protocol, yet it caused the corners of Tzuyu's lips to curl into the most radiant smile of the night:
[Orders received. Good night, Tzuyu.]
The following afternoon, the familiar jeep rolled onto the textured brick courtyard. Dahyun stepped down from the vehicle, her combat fatigues carrying the scent of the wind and mist, yet her eyes were unusually light.
After a simple dinner, the two sat out on Tzuyu's porch. Dahyun pulled a small wooden object from her jacket pocket, placing it gently into Tzuyu's palm. Under the warm yellow light, Tzuyu realized it was a miniature figurine with incredibly lifelike details, depicting a plump cat on its tiptoes, one front paw stretched out as if trying to reach for something underwater.
Tzuyu blinked, letting out a soft laugh. "Is this... the fish thief from that night?"
"The very first enemy you had to face in Gangneung," Dahyun noted flatly, taking a sip of tea. "I finished carving it a few days ago, but only found the time to sand it down today."
"How long did it take you to make this?"
"It doesn't take long. It's a good way to practice focus," Dahyun turned to look at Tzuyu, her gaze softening into something deep. "Besides, a sergeant under my command has a massive poster of you plastered inside his locker. It's quite loud and glittering."
"When did you... recognize me?"
"You're a top-tier actress, Tzuyu. Claiming I didn't recognize you would be a bit ridiculous."
"Then why..." Tzuyu hesitated, "Why didn't you say anything? Why did you keep treating me like I was just an unemployed neighbor?"
"The army taught me to focus on the core needs of the citizens. Besides, it's not just me; everyone you've crossed paths with here knows exactly who you are."
A slight sting pricked the corners of Tzuyu's eyes, but she didn't cry. Instead, she shifted a little closer to Dahyun, letting the clean, crisp scent of the other woman envelop her completely.
"Thank you, and thank everyone else too, for keeping this secret for me."
Dahyun didn't offer a verbal reply. She simply reached out to adjust the thin blanket draped over Tzuyu's shoulders to block the wind, letting the younger girl rest her head against her shoulder beneath the starry Gangneung sky.
"Is leaning like this uncomfortable for you? I'm... not exactly as tall as you are."
"It is a bit of a strain on my back," Tzuyu teased, playing along, her mischievous eyes blinking softly as she noticed Dahyun's shoulder instinctively stiffen.
Before Dahyun could utter a word, Tzuyu spread the thin blanket across the wooden floor, firmly catching Dahyun's hand to tug the other woman down to lie beside her.
Tzuyu tilted her head to the side. In this position, any difference in height was entirely erased, allowing her gaze to lock easily with the wide, startled eyes of her neighbor. Quite naturally, she cradled her head against Dahyun's upper arm.
"Like this, height doesn't matter anymore, right?" Tzuyu whispered, her lips curving into a radiant smile.
Dahyun froze for a few seconds, caught off guard by this sudden closeness. At a distance intimate enough to count each of Tzuyu's eyelashes, the officer's heart hammered frantically. She adjusted her posture to let Tzuyu cradle her head more comfortably, then redirected her gaze toward the glittering galaxy above.
"Only for a little while. The mist is getting cold, and you'll catch something."
"I know, Captain Kim," Tzuyu murmured softly, closing her eyes. The distant murmur of the sea waves seemed to sync perfectly with the steady, reassuring heartbeat beside her, lulling her into the most profound peace she had known since arriving in this town.
In the days that followed, Tzuyu continued her habit of using the purr of Dahyun's engine as an alarm clock. Every morning, she would wait until the crunch of tires on the sloping road grew faint and vanished before finally throwing off her blanket and getting out of bed.
This morning, however, brought a slight change. As she walked out onto the porch in her slippers to feed the carp, her attention was instantly caught by an unexpected sight. On the pebble-lined ledge right at the water's edge, anchored beneath a smooth gray stone, lay a neatly folded, pale yellow note. The black ink handwriting was perfectly blocky, neat, and firm, mirroring the exact demeanor of its writer.
"I am on duty all day today.
The weather is fine and the fog will clear quickly, perfect for a light march. I strongly advise against cooping yourself up indoors and wasting the fresh air.
I suggest the blue-painted cafe tucked away at the corner at the bottom of the hill. No tourists. Do not drink black coffee; your stomach will rebel.
If you wish to take a walk, the pine forest trail behind Mina's bookstore is quiet and safe, though the wind cuts through sharply. Remember to wear a windbreaker.
Captain Kim."
Complying with the commander's "orders," Tzuyu put on a beige windbreaker, donned a baseball cap, and made her way down the hill. The cafe was exactly as Dahyun had described, sitting modestly at an overlooked turn, its storefront marked by a wooden anchor weathered by the elements.
Inside, a few classic jazz melodies hummed softly from a vinyl record player. The owner was a burly, bearded middle-aged man, yet his smile was remarkably gentle. Catching sight of Tzuyu approaching the counter, he paused mid-wipe on a glass, narrowed his eyes with a warm squint, and let out a hearty laugh.
"Well now, would you happen to be Captain Kim's neighbor?"
Slightly startled, Tzuyu's eyes widened with curiosity. "Yes... how did you know, sir?"
"Dahyun stopped by for a black coffee this morning on her way to the base. She told me to expect a very beautiful, tall girl today, with a demeanor that's a bit... stubborn." The owner gestured toward a small balcony nook hidden behind a bougainvillea trellis, a vantage point that offered a sweeping view of the deep blue sea while remaining entirely hidden from outside eyes. "That spot over there is the safest haven, and she claimed it in advance for you."
Tzuyu offered a soft nod of thanks before strolling toward the secluded nook. Resting her chin on her arms along the wooden railing, pressing her palms against a steaming mug of grapefruit tea, she cast her gaze out across the boundless ocean. Even though Captain Kim was miles away, occupied with firearms, uniforms, and rigid directives, her protective presence enveloped Tzuyu with absolute reality.
Tzuyu pulled the slip of paper from her pocket, tracing the blocky handwriting as a sweet smile stole across her lips. Taking out her phone, she snapped a photo of her grapefruit tea resting beside the note against the backdrop of the sun-dappled sea, then hit send to a very familiar number.
The ensuing days slipped by in a rhythm drenched in sweetness. The frenetic pace of a top movie star and the rigid schedule of a military officer seemed to have discovered a gentle, harmonious intersection.
In the late afternoons, the moment the familiar rumble echoed from the top of the hill, Tzuyu would already have a warm pot of tea waiting, or she would be fumbling in the kitchen with her sleeves rolled up, waiting for Dahyun to come to her rescue. As twilight faded, they would pull up a few stray weeds along the wall together, then sit side by side cracking melon seeds, completely absorbed in the dry documentaries Dahyun preferred. And when night finally fell, their world narrowed down to the quiet space beneath the warm porch light, reading books with their shoulders resting against each other.
Yet, the fragile soap bubble of a vacation, no matter how beautiful, could not float forever. One afternoon, while the crimson sunset washed over the pebble-lined pond, the sharp ring of a telephone echoing from the living room shattered her tranquility.
Later that evening, upon returning home from the base, the perceptive Captain immediately sensed a change in the air. Her younger neighbor didn't rush out to greet her as usual; instead, Tzuyu sat with her knees pulled to her chest by the edge of the pond, blankly tossing tiny pellets into the water as the orange-and-white carp scrambled for a bite.
Dahyun hurried over and took a seat beside her. "What's wrong? Did something happen today to upset you?"
Tzuyu turned her head, her clear eyes clouded with a faint shadow of melancholy. Reaching out to gently clutch the edge of Dahyun's military jacket, she took a deep breath. "This Sunday morning, the agency van is coming to pick me up."
The space between them suddenly grew heavy. Even though they both knew this day would inevitably arrive, hearing it spoken aloud carved an instant, invisible hollow into their chests.
"A month really flies by," Dahyun said softly, her even tone masking the sudden pang of disappointment. "Your vacation is over. Have you recharged enough to go back to being the brightest star in Seoul?"
"I have. But..." Tzuyu pouted, pointing down at the bubbling water. "What about the fish? Look at them, they've gotten so plump, and they love that ceramic hideaway I just bought. There's no way I can bring them with me, and I can't bear to leave them like this."
"Didn't you mention before that you'd give them to the neighborhood kids or release them into the stream when it was time to leave?"
"No way!" Tzuyu shook her head fiercely, grabbing Dahyun's arm and giving it a gentle tug. "What if they get eaten by bigger fish in the stream? And the kids might be careless and starve them. Captain Kim, please adopt them for me."
"My place is just reinforced concrete; I don't exactly have a pond to keep them."
"Then just leave them here. I'll give you the house key. Every day when you come back from the base, you just need to sprinkle a little food for them and occasionally change the water. Please take them under your wing, pretty please?"
Dahyun stared at the gleaming metal key cradled within Tzuyu's pale palm. She slowly picked it out of the girl's hand, tossed it lightly into the air, and caught it cleanly, an amused smirk playing on her lips.
"Handing over your house keys to someone you've known for less than a month? You haven't even bothered to install a single security camera here. Aren't you afraid I might double-cross you, call a moving truck while you're gone, and liquidate everything inside? I'm sure a top star's luxury goods would fetch a handsome price."
"As my neighbor, you know perfectly well that this house sits empty all year round with no one watching. If you wanted to rob me, you would have cleaned the place out ages ago. Besides," Tzuyu poked the embroidered insignia on Dahyun's shoulder, her tone turning playfully endearing with a hint of mischief, "the textbooks say the military exists to protect the citizens and their property. A noble Captain Kim like you wouldn't have the heart to fleece the public, right?"
Silenced entirely by her neighbor's clever appeal to military duty, Captain Kim could only shake her head, utterly defeated by this lethal wave of cuteness. "Fine. Mission accepted. But Chou Tzuyu, by military protocol, the commanding officer assigning the task bears the responsibility of periodic inspections. If you go completely off the grid in Seoul, I will log it and file a disciplinary report. When that happens, the punishment won't just be ten laps around the track. Understood?"
The heavy clouds looming over Tzuyu's heart were instantly swept away by a threat so laced with indulgence. She offered a military salute that was technically disastrous but profoundly endearing. "Understood, Captain! Private Chou promises to return for regular inspections!"
"Why are you demoting yourself to a private?" Dahyun smiled, reaching over to correct Tzuyu's clumsy salute.
"Well, technically, isn't a recruit like me supposed to be a private?"
"A recruit, huh? A private is the lowest rank, the most grueling, constantly running errands, and the easiest to penalize. Are you absolutely certain you want this position?"
"If it means being sheltered by Captain Kim, I’d willingly run errands or take any punishment."
On Saturday morning, the piercing blare of her phone shattered Tzuyu's sleep at five in the morning. She groped around, intending to hit snooze and pull the covers back over her head as usual. But the exact moment her finger brushed the screen, the thought that this was her last morning here flashed through her mind like electricity. She threw off her heavy duvet. The biting chill of dawn rushed against her skin, making her shiver, yet it successfully vanished any remaining drowsiness.
When Dahyun stepped out onto the porch to prepare for her morning exercises, she found Tzuyu bundled up in a thin blanket, sitting on the stone steps on the other side of the fence. Tzuyu let out a massive yawn, tears welling in her eyes, but the moment she caught sight of Dahyun, her eyes instantly lit up and she unconsciously straightened her posture.
Dahyun walked right up to the fence, unable to hide her surprise. "It's barely past five o'clock. Did the seismic monitoring station just report an earthquake?"
"Of course not. I promised myself I wouldn't be lazy anymore. Besides, I have to go back tomorrow, and I don't want to waste the rest of this morning just lying in bed with my eyes closed."
Dahyun's usually stern gaze instantly melted into a wave of heartbreaking tenderness. An incredibly indulgent smile curved her lips. "Go change. Put on a windbreaker and sneakers. Since you're checking in this early for roll call, the commander must have a reward for you."
"Where to?" Tzuyu blinked.
"Taking you to watch the sunrise."
Just fifteen minutes later, the tactical vehicle rolled smoothly along the deserted coastal road, where a fragile layer of mist still lingered around the distant mountainsides. Instead of turning on the heater, Dahyun decided to roll down all the windows, letting the roaring sea breeze rush in. Tzuyu didn't mind in the slightest that her hair was being blown into a wild mess. Closing her eyes halfway, she extended an arm out the window to catch the briny air, savoring a sense of freedom she could never find in Seoul.
Dahyun steered across a narrow, rugged dirt road and pulled up on a rocky cliff jutting out into the open sea. Before them, white foam crashed violently against the rocks, and the deep blue horizon was gradually blushing with the peach-pink hues of dawn.
"This is my favorite spot whenever I need to think," Dahyun said as she climbed down and leaned against the hood. "Only the border patrol passes through here occasionally. It's quite safe for a star."
Tzuyu walked over to stand beside her. Facing the sheer immensity of the ocean, one felt remarkably small. The sea breeze atop the cliff howled much harder and bit sharper than it did down in the town. Even though she wore her windbreaker, Tzuyu instinctively hunched her shoulders, shivering slightly.
Dahyun shook her head as if she had anticipated this. Without a word, she shed her camouflage jacket and draped it over Tzuyu's shivering shoulders.
"Aren't you cold?" Tzuyu turned to look at Dahyun, who was now dressed only in a thin thermal shirt.
"I'm trained to endure the cold better than you," Dahyun replied curtly, her gaze directed toward the sun majestically rising from the depths of the sea. "Look."
Tzuyu pulled the lapels of the coat tight, slipping both hands into her companion's deep pockets. Standing before the brilliance of the dawn, enveloped in the warmth of the person beside her, her hidden thoughts naturally slipped out.
"Captain Kim... I'm leaving tomorrow. Without your engine to wake me up, and with no one threatening to make me run ten laps around the track if I'm lazy, I'll probably revert right back to my habit of sleeping in until noon."
"Is your manager really that soft? No disciplinary measures whatsoever?"
"He only knows how to nag, it carries no weight. My schedule isn't fixed either. Suddenly... I find myself reluctant to go back."
Beneath the sun gilding the surface of the sea, Captain Kim reached over to brush a stray lock of hair that the wind had blown against Tzuyu's cheek, her movement as natural as if she had done it a thousand times before.
"Then do your best to work hard, and don't let your manager nag you. And whenever you feel too lazy to face it all, just escape down here again. I'll take you to many other places."
Tzuyu's bedroom, bathed in a warm amber glow, felt a bit more cramped than usual with a massive suitcase lying open on the rug. She picked up a sweater, looked it over, and carelessly tossed it back onto its hanger in the closet. Next, she pulled out her fluffy rabbit-eared slippers, gave them a light dust, and carefully tucked them right back against the corner of the wall. She didn't even bother to touch her toothbrush set, the expensive bottles of body wash on the shelf, or the half-read novel on the desk.
In stark contrast to the flurry of packing, Dahyun lay on the plush mattress with her hands cradling her head and her legs crossed, leisurely supervising her neighbor's progress. Glancing at the suitcase, which contained only a handful of clothes after half an hour, Dahyun cleared her throat. "If Private Chou packed her military gear with such a sluggish and sloppy demeanor in my unit, you would definitely be penalized with scrubbing every single latrine in the barracks for a month."
Tzuyu turned around to glare at the demanding supervisor occupying her bed. "Because... I have no intention of taking everything back."
"I see you've left plenty behind already. Does your agency van have a strict weight limit?"
"What's the point of dragging it all back to Seoul just to stuff it into the back of a wardrobe and clutter up the place? I'll leave them exactly where they are; I'll be back down here in a few weeks when I have some free time. That way, I'll have things ready to use without wasting energy hauling a bunch of baggage from the capital. Or is it that Captain Kim... wants to get rid of me for good and forbid me from coming back?"
Dahyun withdrew a hand from behind her head and gave Tzuyu's forehead a playful flick without any hesitation. "Clever logic. Fine, leave them then. Just make sure to lock the wardrobe tightly; if the sea breeze blows in and turns your luxury items moldy, I won't be able to afford the compensation."
Tzuyu rubbed her forehead, smiling with the sweet satisfaction of victory. She turned and walked toward the small vanity in the corner of the room, unzipping a velvet cosmetics pouch and rummaging through it. After the clinking of a few bottles, Tzuyu pulled out an unopened, sealed tube of hand cream infused with chamomile and shea butter.
Stepping back to the bed, she naturally sat on the edge of the mattress beside Dahyun. "I know your skin is pale, but still..." Tzuyu murmured, popping open the cap and squeezing a pea-sized amount onto the back of the other woman's hand. "...your skin is completely chapped. You always overexert yourself carrying heavy loads and washing your hands in the cold water outside."
"We don't use things that make our palms slick in the barracks. It ruins your grip on batons, and your rifle can slip easily..."
"I'm not telling you to apply it while on duty," Tzuyu said, gently massaging each rough knuckle, letting her body heat melt the rich cream deep into the wind-chapped skin. "Just at night before going to sleep, or on your days off like today. You're so silly; don't you even notice when your own hands are stinging?"
The subtle scent of chamomile drifted through the cozy space, lingering at the tip of Dahyun's nose. She looked down at the light brown head bent low, carefully massaging her fingers, feeling the soothing softness caress her weathered skin. Any rigid rejection she intended to voice was quietly swallowed back down.
Dahyun relaxed her entire arm, allowing Tzuyu to have her way. "Alright... don't use too much, or it will smudge all over your blankets."
The arrival of a glossy black van with tightly drawn curtains seemed to disrupt the usual order of the small hill. Spotting Tzuyu rolling her suitcase out through the glass doors, her manager let out a loud whistle. "Wow! It was definitely worth hiding away down here for a month. Your complexion is amazing; you look like you've been completely reborn. But wait, only one suitcase?"
"I left most of my things here," Tzuyu replied nonchalantly.
"Good morning. Are you about to head out?" Dahyun said as she opened her front gate and stepped outside.
Ignoring her manager's curious gaze, Tzuyu pulled her house key from her purse, complete with a plush carp keychain attached, and openly placed it into Dahyun's palm.
"Captain Kim, I'm officially handing over this vital responsibility to you. If you starve them, I'm filing a lawsuit."
Standing behind her, the manager let out an enlightened sound, bowing to Dahyun with a friendly smile. "Oh, hello! Our Tzuyu must have been quite a handful during her stay. Thank you so much for looking after her."
"It's nothing. Just a good citizen's duty," Dahyun replied smoothly to the manager; however, a split second later, her rough fingers curled tightly around the key, her gaze locking onto Tzuyu. "Rest assured. I will execute the military orders faithfully. Travel safely, and take care of your health."
"I'll be back to inspect your work," Tzuyu whispered, her voice low enough for just the two of them as a mischievous smile played on her lips.
"I'll be waiting."
"That's it, Tzuyu-ssi! Tilt your chin to the left just a bit... Make your gaze even colder! Perfect!"
Tzuyu shifted her poses with flawless professionalism. Every lift of her hand, every blink of her eyes was precise to the point of perfection. She was once again the dazzling, elegant, and untouchable superstar Chou Tzuyu.
"Fifteen-minute break, everyone!"
Almost instantly, a makeup artist rushed over to touch up her powder, while another sprayed setting mist to lock her intricate braids in place. Back in her private dressing room, Tzuyu kicked off her stiletto heels and massaged her raw, reddened feet.
Her manager placed an iced Americano on the vanity before her. "Take a sip to wake up. We still have a live television interview at nine in the evening."
Tzuyu reached for the cup, but before bringing it to her lips, she muttered under her breath, "I'm sorry. This isn't black coffee... let me have it just this once, Captain Kim."
Exactly at six in the evening, the phone on the vanity suddenly lit up. The lock screen displayed the name: [Captain Kim]. All the exhaustion and suffocation of running a packed schedule for over ten hours instantly evaporated. Tzuyu snatched the device so quickly she almost knocked over her coffee.
Opening the message, she found a snapshot of the familiar courtyard under the warm glow of the porch light. The center of the photo was the stone pond, where the orange-and-white carp were splashing energetically, competing for tiny pellets.
Tzuyu raised her phone, framing a selfie against the backdrop of the brightly lit dressing room and racks of luxury wardrobe pieces. In the shot, she offered a slight pout, her mischievous eyes crinkling as she raised a finger in a mock military salute, just like the other day.
She tapped send along with a text: [The fish have received their rations. So where are the commander's? Snap a photo of your dinner and send it over for inspection right now!]
Less than a minute later, a reply popped up.
[Give me a moment. I rushed to take the photo of the pond for you, so I haven't bought anything yet.]
"Tzuyu, are you ready? The director is calling!" her manager's voice echoed from outside the door.
"Coming!" Tzuyu called back.
She hurriedly looked down, her slender fingers flying across the screen:
[Go find your rations immediately. Instant noodles or lazy convenience store meals are strictly forbidden! Once you're done eating, remember to tune in to Channel XX at nine tonight!]
The whirlwind of work in Seoul could easily blur the concept of time, but for Tzuyu, each passing day was anchored by a fixed hour: six in the evening. Today, while curled up under a blanket on her apartment sofa, having just concluded an exhausting day of recording, Tzuyu's phone vibrated on schedule with its familiar chime.
Today's photo was slightly blurry, capturing a close-up of the water's surface. The focal point was the plumpest and boldest carp in the school, swimming sluggishly near the stone ledge. Its belly was noticeably more swollen than usual. Accompanying the image was a text message:
[The situation is in danger of spinning out of my control.]
Tzuyu's heart skipped a beat. She hurriedly typed back:
[What's wrong? Are the fish sick? Or did a wild cat attack them?]
The other end displayed "typing..." for a long moment, as if the sender was carefully weighing her words for absolute precision. Finally, the response arrived:
[No. But according to my observations... one of them shows signs of unusual swelling. Looking closely at its fins and movement, it appears... it is carrying eggs.]
Tzuyu blinked, gluing her eyes to the screen to reread the text. A second later, she let out an excited squeal. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, completely abandoning her superstar persona:
[Oh my god!!! Does that mean baby fish are coming?!]
[Captain Kim, you have such a nurturing touch! We're about to become parents!!!]
From across the digital frontline, the Captain typed her reply, her tone attempting to remain detached, yet the content was utterly helpless:
[The word 'we' used here seems a bit too inclusive. The local population is about to experience a sudden surge, and the current pond might not have enough capacity. I request the person with primary responsibility to immediately plan a return to take over command.]
Reading the message with its blatantly urgent underlying intent, Tzuyu laughed until her eyes crinkled into crescents. She knew perfectly well that Dahyun wasn't afraid of looking after a few dozen baby fish; she was merely using it as an excuse to demand that Tzuyu fulfill her promise.
Tzuyu opened the schedule on her phone. Next week, she would have a three-day leave that was completely clear. Without hesitating for a single second, she returned to the chat and resolutely sent a voice note:
"Private Chou has received orders! I'll be back next Friday! Hold the fort for just a few more days, Captain Kim. I miss... I mean, the fish miss you terribly!"
Tzuyu returned to her apartment in central Seoul late at night. She sank into the sofa, wearily resting an arm across her forehead. The whirlwind of photo shoots, wardrobe changes, and thick makeup over the past ten hours left her head buzzing. Seoul at night glittered with endless lights, but to Tzuyu, it felt suffocating, completely lacking the gentle murmur of the crashing sea waves.
The sharp ring of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Tzuyu lethargically got up to open the door, finding her manager holding a small, tightly sealed styrofoam box, wrapped meticulously with crisscrossing tape in a perfectly neat, angular fashion.
"Is this a fan gift sent to the agency?" Tzuyu asked, bewildered.
"No, it's from the Gangneung post office, delivered to the apartment lobby this afternoon. Anyway, I'm heading out. Remember to eat something and sleep early."
Tzuyu sat flat on the rug, using a small pair of scissors to cut through the heavy tape with anticipation. The moment the styrofoam lid was lifted, a rush of cold air carrying the briny scent of the ocean instantly flooded the room, taking over the entire space.
Nestled neatly inside, surrounded by four gel ice packs, were two thick ziplock bags containing thick-fleshed, pearly white, and incredibly fresh semi-dried squid, clearly selected from the earliest ship to dock at the harbor. Alongside them sat a jar of homemade chili paste mixed with seafood sauce, boasting an eye-catching red-orange hue. And of course, the indispensable "military order" was taped neatly onto the box's lid:
"Supply Drop: Premium semi-dried squid, thoroughly cleaned and prepped.
When grilling, remember to use low heat and flip evenly. Great for snacking while reading or watching movies, but do not eat too late, or it will cause indigestion.
Captain Kim."
Tzuyu clutched the note to her chest, feeling as if Dahyun were standing right there in the kitchen instructing her. She promptly ignited her mini gas stove, placing a piece of squid onto the small grill grate. Before long, a sizzling sound echoed as the flesh gradually curled up, shifting to an off-white shade and emitting a savory aroma.
Tzuyu dipped a perfectly charred, golden-brown piece of the grilled squid into the chili jar, savoring it slowly. The rich sweetness of the meat blending with the pungent spice of the sauce brought a sudden, stinging warmth to her nose.
Knowing full well she would be scolded for ignoring Captain Kim's warning against late-night eating, she still took out her phone, snapped a picture of the steaming plate next to the note, and sent it along with a message:
[I have successfully received the military rations. The squid is incredibly sweet and not burned in the slightest! See, I've improved, haven't I?]
The familiar jeep had been sent to the maintenance shop two days prior, leaving Captain Kim with no choice but to rely on a bike to commute between the barracks and the town. Deprived of the characteristic growl of the engine, the steady whir of the chain on the small slope felt excessively quiet, completely swallowed by the howling sea wind.
As her legs, thoroughly exhausted after a long day of training recruits, completed the final rotation of the pedals, Dahyun parked the bicycle against the perimeter fence and stretched to dispel the lingering aches in her body. Her combat fatigues were coated in dust; yet, driven by a habit deeply ingrained over the past weeks, she pulled out the key with the plush carp keychain, intending to open the gate for her usual duty.
However, the Captain realized the gate was already unlatched. Inside the courtyard, the porch light shone brilliantly. Near the water's edge stood a well-known figure draped in a thin beige cardigan, her light brown hair loosely pinned with a few stray wisps fluttering in the breeze. She was lightly tapping her fingers against the water's surface, feeding the fish while muttering a soft complaint.
"What on earth have you all been eating to get this plump? Did Captain Kim feed you military rations? That stone-faced person looking after you... I missed her so much I even misread my script. Tell me, if I call her right now to report my presence, will she scold me for failing to follow the plan?"
The crushing fatigue of pedaling up the slope instantly vanished, replaced by a profound wave of warmth and sweetness surging in her chest. Dahyun took a deep breath, stepped through the slightly ajar gate, and approached the younger girl.
"Tzuyu?"
The girl sitting by the pond turned her head. Tzuyu's cheeks flushed slightly, terrified that the other had overheard her foolish confession, yet her large, round eyes instantly sparked under the amber glow. Tzuyu hastily sprang to her feet, smoothing down her cardigan before stepping quickly toward Dahyun, using a playful demeanor to mask her embarrassment. Her lips curved into a smile more radiant and dazzling than any camera flash in Seoul.
"Back from patrol so late, Captain Kim? The mother-to-be and I have been waiting anxiously!"
Dahyun looked Tzuyu up and down, as if to confirm that the flesh-and-blood person standing before her was real. "Aren't you supposed to return tomorrow?"
"I changed my train ticket to the earliest departure to sneak back here," Tzuyu said, tilting her chin up a fraction, looking immensely proud of her scheme. "Doesn't military strategy state that to evaluate a subordinate's dedication, the commander must conduct a surprise inspection?"
"A surprise inspection, is it? Where on earth did you learn that?" Dahyun reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Tzuyu's ear, her movement incredibly tender, as if touching the most fragile treasure.
"Who else would teach me besides Captain Kim?" Tzuyu deliberately scanned the yard before clearing her throat, mimicking a serious reporting tone. "And the preliminary inspection results show that the fish pond is pristine, the indoor property is intact, and no suspicious trucks have sneaked in to liquidate the citizen's assets. Captain Kim is indeed a woman of her word."
"I promised, didn't I? So if the assets are intact, the objective is secure, and the operative executing the mission... also missed you terribly, is there a reward?"
Dahyun's direct confession made Tzuyu's heart skip a beat. She proactively leaned in, brushing her cheek against Dahyun's hand, which still carried the evening chill. "As for the reward... what exactly does the Captain wish to receive? Shall I give you a hug?"
Dahyun looked down, glancing at her combat fatigues still caked with dust, her voice turning slightly hoarse. "My clothes are covered in dust."
"I don't care."
That endearing stubbornness forced Dahyun to surrender unconditionally. An indulgent sigh escaped her, and in the very next second, Captain Kim's strong arms reached out, pulling Tzuyu into a tight embrace.
Tzuyu draped her arms around Dahyun's lean but firm shoulders, burying her face in the crook of her neck, which carried a faint scent of sweat mingled with the cold mist. Her senses were flooded with such absolute safety and familiarity that the corners of her eyes stung.
"I missed you so much," Dahyun murmured, burying her face in Tzuyu's silky hair.
They held each other for a long time, oblivious to the sea wind howling outside the fence, oblivious to the noisy world turning around them. Only when their heartbeats raced so rapidly that they seemed to merge into one did Dahyun loosen her embrace. She looked up, her rough palms cupping Tzuyu's cheeks, tenderly pulling the younger girl's face down so their gazes locked once more.
"As for the reward..." Dahyun whispered, her thumb softly stroking the corner of Tzuyu's lips. "This part, I will take it myself."
Without waiting for Tzuyu to nod, Dahyun leaned up. Neither rushed nor intense like a storm, their first kiss carried absolute reverence and tenderness, mirroring the way rain slowly soaks deep into parched earth. The Captain's wind-chapped lips pressed against the superstar's supple ones. Dahyun caressed them fondly, exploring, and when she felt Tzuyu encircle both arms around the Captain's neck and part her own lips to respond, the kiss instantly grew fervent.
The taste of longing, the brine of the sea breeze, and a long-repressed sweetness exploded between them. One of Dahyun's hands slid deep into Tzuyu's light brown hair, while the other secured firmly around her waist, pulling her close until there was no space left between them.
The kiss deepened, stealing all of Tzuyu's senses until she began to lose her breath. The superstar let out a quiet murmur, shifting in an attempt to pull back for oxygen. However, the field soldier's embrace was far too unyielding; Dahyun did not loosen her grip, tightening it instead, greedily lingering on the other's soft lips.
Kissed into a state of dizziness, her limbs growing weak, Tzuyu had to curl her fingers and lightly thump against the other's strong shoulder to signal for rescue.
Receiving the surrender signal, Dahyun finally reined in her fervor. She reluctantly broke the kiss, releasing Tzuyu's reddened and swollen lips. Even so, Dahyun did not step back, her forehead resting against Tzuyu's as their hot, ragged breaths intertwined.
Tzuyu leaned entirely against Dahyun to catch her breath, her large eyes glassy and coated in a layer of mist as she glared at the commander who had just lost control.
Looking at the flushed cheeks and a gaze that carried three parts petulance and seven parts allure, Dahyun lightly licked her lips. Her typically sharp eyes were now flooded with adoration and a rare trace of guilt. The corners of Captain Kim's lips curved into a radiant smile.
"Welcome home, Tzuyu."