Ahrisu stood at the edge of the shipping container, the toe boxes of her sneakers hanging in the air. The clattering sound on the deck earlier was from the ladder falling. Or from Jwichi and his lackeys pushing it over. Those dirtbags.

  Seagulls cried out. The birds were shadows in the sky, split into tiny squares by the netting.

  Waves crashed against the hull. Across the water, the main port of Incheon was a hazy outline dotted with other container ships.

  The sooner her feet were on land the better. Ahrisu grabbed two of the container's four metal rods, which stretched from the top of the doors to the bottom.

  She climbed down, her knuckles turning white and the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking with every slide. When her sneakers reached the latches, she jumped and landed with bent knees.

  A banging sound caused the container to quake, and Ahrisu staggered backwards and crouched low.

  What the—it came from inside. Like fists slamming against the walls and doors. No one else was around so she crept towards the container.

  “Is anyone in there?” she called out. “Are you a person?”

  More banging sounds and she flinched and backed away. The steel walls and doors shook. But it wasn’t the collective noise of human hands, even hundreds, smacking the inside of the container.

  It was the thrashing of a large animal. Or creature.

  Ahrisu hurried around the corner towards the direction of the shore. When she glanced back, the container was silent.

  She didn't linger, however, and ran towards the gangway. The net was pinned back on top of the nearest containers to open up a path, and her footsteps thumped against the grated deck, as she disembarked the ship.

  A mountain of vehicles separated land from water. Cars, trucks, and buses were stacked atop shipping containers, and the seawall stretched across Wolmido’s perimeter. Rooftops of buildings, a drop tower, and an elevated railway poked out from above the topmost vehicles.

  The other stowaways were quick to disperse, leaving her to cross the wide stretch of pavement between the ship and seawall alone.

  Far to the right was Wolmido's mountain, its lower half obscured by vehicles. To the left was a lighthouse. It was situated at the end of a long causeway. People stood by the lighthouse, their backs turned towards her.

  A gap was left between two shipping containers, spacious enough for adults to step through. But the bus overhead creaked too loudly to be completely safe. To keep the vehicles compact, steel cables were looped and tied around the wheels, hoods, and trunks.

  Should be fine. Worst-case scenario, a sudden collapse put her out of her misery.

  Ahrisu paused, however, at a single, continuous rope hanging from the containers, like a belt. Geumjul warded off evil spirits and impurities so she was supposed to stay away from the sea. Pieces of white hanji were twisted around the golden straw rope, the mulberry paper fluttering in the breeze.

  Despite being human, she prepared for the sacred geumjul potentially blocking her entry. She crawled under the rope without issue, though, and the hanji brushed against her ears and shoulders.

  The seawall protected a lengthy, “L”-shaped walkway, where people once strolled and mingled, with water on one side and entertainment on the other.

  She arrived at the horizontal line of the “L” and faced three-story storefronts, either shuttered or boarded up. A few signs survived weathering and neglect: two different seafood restaurants on both ends, two different coffee shops right next to each other, and a buffet for fusion Korean cuisine that offered delivery for lunches. Ahrisu would eat at the last one since she never tried the first two.

  Looming behind the buildings were the drop tower and a Ferris wheel, which was more of a hamster wheel because its gondolas were missing. Metal fixtures reinforced blue and white lampposts.

  To the right was a road and the entrance to the base of the mountain, but there was another gap in the seawall to the left.

  The entrance to the lighthouse was much larger than the one by the ship and had sandbags and concrete tetrapods scattered about. Ahrisu snaked through the formation and ducked under the geumjul.

  The causeway was far longer up close and also wide to accommodate two paths. On the right-hand side were raised, wooden platforms when they were needed to see the ocean better, in the days when tigers smoked tobacco.

  From here, only the lackeys’ heads were visible. Jwichi and his bright yellow raincoat sat at the ledge of a flat roof, where the upper half of the lighthouse sprouted from. Behind him was a shrine, about the size of an expensive dollhouse, and what looked like an offering table.

  Was Ahrisu going to confront them? She didn’t plan on setting them ablaze, no, she didn’t want to, but they were right by the water, as if tempting her.

  That was right. They had the ocean to jump into. They worked on a ship; they had to know how to swim. They shouldn’t have robbed her.

  She had to grab her money and go, even if it meant escaping all the way north on foot today.

  Which could only happen if she moved, but waves crashed against the glass panels of the railing, on both sides. Only the thought of reclaiming her money pushed her towards the lighthouse, and she shuffled forward, step by step. Until a wave swept over the causeway through broken panels a few strides ahead, leaving behind bubbles that fizzled and sank into the darkened wood.

  It can't hurt me, she thought. It can't hurt me from here. Steeling her resolve, she crept forward and used the damp platforms to support herself.

  Halfway down was a tall, white picture frame the width of the causeway. If someone stood in the right spot, the entire lighthouse could be captured in the background of the frame. But no one posed for photos.

  The lackeys were unfazed by the waves splattering them with droplets. In the gaps between their legs were hair and dark clothes on the floor.

  Ahrisu crouched and leaned against the platform. A few of the lackeys stepped back.

  The man from the container was prone. And his wrists bound behind his back. A chain fastened his ankles together. It was connected to a block of concrete.

  Jolting, Ahrisu fell on her backpack. No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Why were they doing this? Going this far. No, when they left her alone, she should’ve run away without looking back. If there was still time . . .

  Jwichi's torso faced the man, but his head was turned. Towards the causeway.

  He knew, she had to be next, but her palms were glued to the wood.

  Two lackeys, the ones who hauled the man away earlier, hoisted him up by his armpits. He didn't resist. They threw him over the railing.

  His emaciated form sailed through the air. When he fell in the sea, the splash was a drop of rain in a pond.

  Ahrisu had to run now, every second wasted endangered her further, but the man reappeared. He floated on his back, and his face was visible until a wave engulfed him.

  She had to run, but his head popped up again. He didn’t sputter or struggle or scream. He only looked at the sky.

  She couldn’t run, as the blond-haired lackey tossed the concrete block into the water. The man vanished with a plop, like a fish catching bait on a hook. Waves rolled over the place where he was last seen.

  Whether it was a dream or a memory or a worst-case scenario, she was also in the water, sinking deeper into the depths with him. Dragged to the seafloor by the concrete block, the sunlit surface growing fainter and fainter, water drowning lungs—

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  Ahrisu gasped and panted for air, as if she resurfaced from the ocean.

  Which the man never will. He was still sinking, living, unable to breathe.

  Jwichi’s head was turned in her direction. He wasn’t a predator watching its prey, but a human considering a wild animal. He let her be a witness because it was meaningless. It didn’t matter if she was somehow believed. In the end, he’d grab her ankle and drag her into the abyss with him.

  It was kill or be killed. So Ahrisu scrambled to her feet and ran.

  Breezing down the causeway, leaping over the tetrapods and sandbags, diving under the geumjul. Even more storefronts and an endless walkway, the whole world a blur.

  She zeroed in on the nearest turn and ran up a pile of sandbags to her right. Or, more like, climbed the burlap sacks on all fours. The other side was ground, and she jumped from waist-high.

  Hiding behind an archway, she peeked over the blue fence the sandbags were piled against. No one chased her, but they could run after her at any moment.

  Eyes were on her from behind. She whirled around, grabbing the fence.

  Kids, three girls, identical, the same elementary school age. Must be triplets. They sat on an enormous swing once powered by electricity, now a skeleton. In between them were fashion dolls, either dressed like their owners or the owners dressed like them.

  The triplets stared, but Ahrisu’s throat and nose weren’t itchy, and she didn’t cough. They were never kids, anyways.

  Facing the swing was a building with colorful windows depicted in picture books about European fairytales. The first floor was an open area, where rows of claw machines, the glass dusty and the insides empty, were situated alongside a game arcade.

  She checked the entrance to the lighthouse one last time. No one was there.

  Avoiding eye contact with the girls, she walked past the swing, only for her feet to slow. She had to move quickly, and it wasn’t her first time seeing a merry-go-round, but she always stopped.

  The long-dead lights glowed again, silenced music played, and the horses shook off dust and chipped paint before cantering around the carousel, in colorful costumes that shimmered and billowed. If she were the triplets’ age, she’d rather pretend riding one of the horses. But maybe they were too old for that.

  Resisting the urge to pet a horse, Ahrisu walked through the theme park, whose ground had once been trampled by the shoes of adults and children and was now only left with dried-out kelp, silt, and plastic waste.

  And crumbs, a trail of them leading to a jungle gym to the right, where kids gathered and knelt on the floor. They carried toy hammers, wooden baseball bats, and mallets and took turns striking the center of the circle they formed.

  “Gold, come out, come out, dduk-ddak,” they sang, “silver, come out, come out, dduk-ddak!”

  When their “summoning ritual” failed, predictably, an older boy declared, “It’s no use! These aren’t working. Did Kangmin lie to us? They’re supposed to be magical!”

  The kids agreed to sing the whole song again, from start to finish, before moving onto their next plan of action.

  Across from the jungle gym was a kiddie ride, which was supposed to be flowing with water, and a roaring dinosaur was stuck in front of a short tunnel for decades. Past the drop tower and a car racing track was an exit leading to a road, the one near the mountain.

  With eyes on potential escape routes, Ahrisu climbed over the fence of the race track. Stairs led to a roller coaster above. In front of a pillar was a hulking character, shirtless and unrealistically muscular. She ducked under his raised arm and snapped her wrist against one of the colorful punching bags nearby. The heavy-duty chain creaked, as she cleared a dry spot for her backpack behind the pillar and squatted.

  Minutes have passed since. The man had to be all out of air. If he wanted to struggle now, he couldn’t, but he no longer had a “now,” not when this much time passed—

  Ahrisu shook her head and tapped her ears. Focus, she had to focus, if she didn’t want to end up like him.

  If she made the wrong choice by traveling in a ship, then she should’ve, at least, not made a second wrong choice by trying to get her money back. Not from those kinds of human beings.

  But she couldn't waste time and energy on regretting. Despite losing ?2 million, it wasn't impossible traveling north. It just became harder.

  Upon arriving in the Slums surrounding Neo Seoul, she planned on working wherever, whenever possible and spend those daily earnings on food and water. Her ?4 million in savings was for emergencies and for dipping into when she was in the north, where job opportunities were scarce.

  Considering it took her the last two years to build up her savings, it'd take her close to a year to earn back the half that was robbed from her. But traveling and working her way through the Slums while bypassing Neo Seoul would take her three to four months at the longest. And she couldn't afford moving at such a slow pace because they would end up finding her soon . . .

  It was either progress slowly and earn more money at the risk of being caught or stay on the run and put distance between herself and her pursuers while giving up on potential money. Money she needed, not only to go north, but also for the subsequent trip down the mountainous spine of the peninsula through the eastern provinces. Even downhills were uphills.

  Such was her life. The entirety of Korea was like this kiddie ride: a race track with limitless—endless—laps. And no cool toy car to drive around in.

  It’d only end when either she or her pursuers forfeited. The price paid to learn this truth was too steep . . .

  No more risks. Giving up on her stolen money meant focusing on what was immediately ahead of her. Re-supply, wash up, she thought. And figure out what on earth I can do.

  Kids screamed. From having too much fun. Ahead towards the left was a three-story, glass building. Behind it, on the top floor, was the Ferris "hamster" wheel, accessed by a canopied, outdoor stairwell. In front of the building was a giant, docked Viking longship on an elevated platform positioned by the second floor. Toy swords were waved about and swung in the air.

  Aside from the triplets, the rest of the kids were too busy playing to notice her. Or didn’t care. Still, she shifted to hide behind the pillar completely.

  In the murky sunlight finding its way to her, like water dripping through the smallest of cracks, she took out Dalnim first. Her rabbit doll had never been pristine, but the splotches of dirt and seawater were too much.

  Opening her water bottle, she wet her unsoiled sleeve and cleaned Dalnim. The stains darkened, but she squeezed out dirty water, drop by drop.

  Ahrisu sat her rabbit doll on the backpack to dry, then faced the corner and pulled up her hoodie. She retrieved the cash in her yellowed bra. Hiding money like this was a last resort because she moved stiffly, but it was worth the effort and anxiety.

  She smoothed out the cash and tucked them underneath Dalnim. The banknotes were folded until they resembled gum wrappers. Squeezing her fingers inside her ankle-high sneakers, she fished out the money from both sides of her feet and the backs of her heels.

  While counting, she steadily lowered her shoulders and sighed. ?2 million. The same amount before that cursed ride on Jwichi’s ship.

  Ahrisu unfolded and flattened the cash—12 of Admiral Yi Sunshin and the rest Sejong the Great—before sticking them inside the crumpled envelope and securing it in an inner pocket.

  Next, she tied her hair at the nape of her neck and grimaced at how oily her scalp and roots were. Short hair was easier to manage, didn’t require as much shampoo or conditioner, and was harder to grab.

  But it became oily faster. She should shave off her hair at this point. She fitted the hood over her head, partly to cover her face, mainly to hide her hair.

  Clutching Dalnim, Ahrisu dug out the sweet and salty crackers with sesame seeds. Or they once were until the lackeys crushed them. She didn't have the energy to chew, anyways, so she returned them to her backpack and gulped down the last of her water.

  The kids shouted at each other.

  “You’re going to get into trouble!” “I’m telling Mom!” “I’m eating your dinner, then!”

  Footsteps stampeded. The kids from the jungle gym sprinted towards the building while those at the Viking longship clambered down stairs. The dokkaebi occultists crowded in front of the elevator near the stairwell. Unless the Ferris "hamster" wheel was launching them to a floating island, they were headed for civilization. As Ahrisu packed her backpack, the two groups of kids collided.

  The wannabe Viking warriors raised their swords and jeered. “You forgot your masks!” “You’re going to get into trouble!” “No ppeongtwigi for you!”

  Their own elastomeric respirators hung from belt loops or from lanyards around their necks. Groaning, the dokkaebi occultists sprinted back to the jungle gym.

  A few kids from each faction ran in the opposite direction, waving and yelling, “See you tomorrow!” They went past the Viking longship, towards a route she hadn’t explored, yet.

  Ahrisu cleared the fence, as the wannabe Viking warriors boarded the elevator. Spray-painted on the glass walls, in bright pink, was “Exit No. 5.” Their refusal to sheathe their swords meant their weapons took up the rest of the space in the elevator. The occultists for her, then.

  The lift went down while the other group returned, balancing their tools and respirators. Though they eyed her, they gathered in front of the doors with their backs firmly towards her. She waited a few paces behind them.

  “You have blood on you.”

  The only one acknowledging her presence was the smallest kid, twisting an older girl’s arm to look at Ahrisu. She dabbed at her nose, and dried blood scraped against her skin. When the girl forced the little boy to face forward, he squirmed. At the swing, the girls and their dolls were gone.

  “Did you get the blood on a broom?” The boy stared wide-eyed at Ahrisu before the older girl hushed him and held his head so he couldn’t look back again. He was a real occultist, that one.

  When the lift returned, the kids shuffled to one side and left the right-hand corner all to Ahrisu. The buttons for floors 1, 2, and 3 were taped over.

  A ship horn echoed. Jwichi and his lackeys were likely going to the main port, where they would, hopefully, stay on the other side of the water.

  The man was gone.

  In this moment, while Ahrisu breathed, his body floated in an impenetrable darkness. But she still breathed, and this wasn’t the ocean. One more moon at night, one more sunrise for her.

  The older girl held the little boy’s hand and pulled down a lever with her other hand. With a clank, the elevator descended.

  Dokkaebi Nara (??? ??)