When it came to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses, Ahrisu was the “flight” type.

  She bolted like prey animals in decades-old nature documentaries because any kid, then any teenage girl her size, couldn’t fight back, not without consequences.

  Those hunting her weren’t ones to be appeased by “fawning.” Not that she was good at it, anyways. She rarely froze, though, if ever. The prey who died, the jaws of predators clamped over their limp necks, always froze for a second too long. “Flight” was drilled into her for as long as she could remember. It was the only way to survive.

  But Ahrisu froze, for the second time today, as the bottom of a bright yellow raincoat stepped into view.

  A coldness spread to her fingertips. Her eyes darted about, trying to find a nonexistent exit. To flee. The heat within her resisted and threw a tantrum at her frozen state. The ice in her veins shattered. And melted.

  That was her “fight” response, and she stuck her hands under the opposite armpit. Calm down, calm down, she thought. Don’t do this here. Please calm down.

  “Or did you hide more money on your person?” Jwichi said. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far to check.”

  Cold embers in her mind flickered to life, kindling, red sparks floating.

  Behind Jwichi, a few people climbed up and down the stairs. Don’t do this here, Ahrisu repeated. Don’t do this here. She stomped past him to lean against the passageway, in full view of others. The sooner she felt less threatened, the better.

  Heavy rain boots, ugly in their ruggedness, thudded towards her. Facing her, Jwichi copied her stance and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Individuals passed by, their gazes fixed on their cell phones; the little girl from the bathhouse hopped up the steps while holding her parents' hands, her hair bouncing; a young man skipped down the stairs, humming unintelligible words.

  Not one person reacted to Jwichi's presence. So he wasn’t some mob boss everyone would avoid if he started pushing her around. He’s a nobody, she thought. A murderer and a nobody.

  “I almost couldn’t recognize you,” he said. “New clothes? Ah, also. I scolded my subordinate. I mean, if he was going to do something like that, he should’ve broken your nose. Then, I could’ve watched you steal money for the hospital fee.”

  “I didn’t steal,” said Ahrisu. “I earned all that money. You’re the thief.”

  “Oh-ho, so you can talk. What a vigorous voice. But why do you need so much money? Were you trying to buy a house in the city? What to do? The most you can buy is a dollhouse. A pretty one for your rabbit.”

  “It was all worn-out,” he continued. “Must’ve had it for a long time. The last birthday gift from your mom or dad? You wouldn’t keep something from them if you ran away. They abandoned you, didn’t they? And you can’t help being attached to the doll they gave you because they’re still your parents, even if they didn’t want you anymore. I should’ve been a novelist, huh? I’m writing your sob story for you.”

  Ahrisu bore her eyes into the steps. He was provoking her for his own amusement. Once he grew bored, he’d leave. At this rate, though, he’ll be talking her ear off while she folded her clothes.

  Jwichi laughed a little. “You know something? You’re easy to figure out. When you’re older, don’t play poker. All your money will fly away. You try to act stoic, but your face gives away everything. A kid’s still a kid.”

  “And because you’re easy to figure out,” he said, “I know what the rabbit plushie means to you. You would’ve gladly been trampled in its place. You’re that kind of person, I can tell. But if you were forced to choose between fishing out your plushie or letting it sink in order to save a drowning stranger, you and I both know you’d let that person die. You’re a scary kid.”

  Ahrisu glowered at him. What a joke of an accusation from the actual murderer.

  “It’s tear-jerking, if not, a bit disturbing how much you love that plushie.” Jwichi bent forward, and she withdrew into herself at the sudden closeness. The whites of his large eyes were pronounced, as he stared up at her. There was no shine or gleam in his dark pupils.

  “It’s a shame it got burnt from my cigarette,” he said quietly. “I swear I put it out. But a dying spark turned into a small flame.”

  The smoke. Ahrisu’s lips pulled apart from the silent gasp escaping her.

  Did Jwichi know, did his lackeys know, no, no, he, they couldn’t prove anything—

  Jwichi pushed off from the wall. No emotion on his face. Stuffing his hands in his raincoat’s pockets, he trudged down the stairs without another word or glance.

  If he knew her secret, she knew his, too. But why did it feel she was still at a disadvantage?

  When the sizable, yellow blob that was Jwichi's back continued down the marketplace and didn't turn around, Ahrisu lugged herself towards the chairs and sat beside her backpack.

  She had to leave Wolmido tomorrow. Not only because of Jwichi and his lackeys, but also because this place was a dead-end. As nice as it was, it offered no way to earn real money. And she couldn't stay in one place for long. Maybe in another life . . .

  One step at a time. The supplies would last for a week, if rationed correctly and if she didn’t give in to her stomach. Water was the issue, but when was it never?

  Ahrisu went through her backpack to keep her hands busy, to push down the words creeping back into her mind, trying to reignite a spark that had to stay extinguished.

  She drank a mouthful of water to wet her throat; the sweet and tangy strawberry juice dried up because of Jwichi. Dirtbag.

  Five minutes were left until she had to rescue Dalnim so she re-organized her belongings. And while she was alone, she counted her cash. Still the same. Once the envelope was secured, she set the pouch and elastomeric respirator beside her rain boots.

  15 minutes. Ahrisu paused the dryer and took out Dalnim. Both her rabbit doll and the pillowcase were hot, and she tossed the latter back in and started the cycle again.

  Dalnim was damp, as if sprayed with a water bottle, but not sopping wet. She patted its head before having it sit on top of the rain boots.

  Her clothes could go in her backpack. Everything else went in the drawstring bag with the food until she had dirty clothes to separate.

  Aside from the bra she wore, the other piece of clothing she didn’t wash was the windbreaker. It had a specific care label befitting its quality. She put it on so it was one less item to carry in her arms and in her bags.

  When she first wore the jacket, it had swallowed her up, to the point she folded the sleeves to her shoulders to free her hands. Now it hung on her as if she was a clothes hanger.

  A chair creaked. The elderly man sat at the table and coughed so harshly into a tissue he could’ve spat out blood. But he cleared his throat and opened the manhwa volume. He didn’t acknowledge her or the yeopjeon she left. Ahrisu stretched out her legs and lightly tapped the heels of her sneakers against the floor.

  Flames engulfed the elderly man, his hands burning the pages into cinder.

  No, no, no, no. She squirmed and knocked her palm against her forehead. Get out, she pleaded. Get out. I don’t want that. Stop.

  No bul-kkot, no flames. But he was burning.

  She patted her pockets, too many of them. Her hands shook, as she pulled out the braided string for siltteugi.

  Don’t burn him, Ahrisu thought, hot tears stinging her eyes. Don’t hurt him. Please.

  Stupid Jwichi. The heat flowed in her veins without incident for a month or so until this day. All because of him.

  Her face flared, and the heat reached a burning point. Tears evaporated, her eyes smoked. No, she’d prefer that, but her flames never hurt her, and tears boiled on her skin.

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  She laid the long sil flat on her lap and wove the string around her hands, hanging it between her thumbs and pinkies so it crossed her palms and looped around her upper wrists. The elderly man’s head was on fire.

  Right middle finger goes under the string on the left palm and pulls on it, she recited, letting the words flood her mind. Left middle finger does the same. Stretch out hands so the string around the pinkies, middle fingers, and thumbs are taut. Roof. Let’s go roof. Put both thumbs under the outer string around the middle fingers. Pull back thumbs to tighten the string and create a triangle at the bottom. The thumbs—

  Bul-kkot. No, no bul, no fire. Just kkot. Flowers blossomed from the elderly man, flowers and fruits from trees on his head, flowers from bushes and hedges on his torso, nameless wildflowers on his hands, little strands of grass growing on the pages he touched, grazing his aged fingers.

  Heat, sparks flew, sizzling.

  Ahrisu removed the string and looped it around her left thumb and pinkie twice. The same for her right hand.

  A star, this time, she thought. On the palms, two strings on top, one on the bottom. The right index finger goes under the bottom string on the left palm and pulls it back. The left index finger does the same. A triangle is formed between the pinkies. Put them inside to loosen the outermost string forming the bottom of the triangle . . .

  “You know how to do siltteugi.”

  Ahrisu snapped her head up, as the elderly man observed her, his manhwa volume closed. Flowers, flowers.

  “That’s unexpected,” he said. “I didn’t know kids these days knew how to play it.”

  She thrust her hands in his direction. “W-Would y-you like to, to play it, too?” When he didn’t respond, she lowered her hands to her lap. Flowers, flowers, flowers.

  “Are you okay?” the elderly man asked. “You’re sweating. It’s warm down here, but not that warm.”

  A quiet “ah” was Ahrisu’s only response, as she twisted around and faced Dalnim. She dabbed at her sweaty neck.

  Something scraped against the floor. He must be reading another volume. After all that effort, her mind ended up clearing from embarrassment. Why would he, why would anyone want to play siltteugi with her?

  She untangled the sil and stuffed it back in her sweatpants' pocket before lifting her cap to wipe her forehead and brush back her matted hair. And to dry her eyes. She sniffed and fixed her cap.

  “Here.”

  As silently and stealthily as before, the elderly man stood before her and held out his hand. He wasn’t asking for the sil. White wired earbuds were coiled around a small device.

  Ahrisu took it with both hands. It was rectangular and thin with a blacked-out screen on top and a big, light gray circle beneath it. In its center was a white circle, the same color as the device. These MP3 players were antiques, from the elderly man’s generation.

  “Do you know how to use it?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he showed her how to turn it on and off. “There are only two songs in here. Sounds, really.”

  He pressed the circle. “This is pink noise. It helps you fall asleep. This one’s brown noise. It helps you relax and reduces anxiety. Try listening to it. I cleaned the earbuds.”

  Ahrisu pinched the wires. “R” and “L” on the earbuds indicated which went into which ear. She fitted them in, and the elderly man adjusted the volume with buttons on the side.

  “That should be good.” He pressed the center of the circle.

  Static filled her ears. But it didn’t crackle.

  It was a harsh gust blowing, when she hid her face in her windbreaker and clung to buildings before she lost her footing. But it wasn’t deafening.

  No, it was waves crashing against the shore in a storm, as she huddled in the corner of a shelter and waited for the warning sirens to cease. It was the waves outside the shipping container, the sound she tried to drown out.

  But she wasn’t in the ocean. She adjusted the earbuds to hear better. The noise filled her head, blank, empty, white.

  “I don’t have to ask what you think,” said the elderly man. “I can see it on your face. Keep it.”

  Ahrisu stammered wordlessly and tried to give the MP3 player back, but he dug into his pocket and placed a charger on top of it. Holding his hands behind his back, he hobbled to his seat.

  “Aigo, my knees are aching,” he said. “It’s going to rain tonight. Wear those rain boots.”

  When he opened his manhwa volume, as if nothing happened, she rubbed her thumbs on the MP3 player. She received lots of gifts today, from complete strangers.

  The dryer played a little jingle to announce it finished its job, which gave her no time to try on her boots. Putting the charger in her backpack, she slipped the MP3 player in her windbreaker’s pocket and emptied the dryer.

  Her clothes were pleasantly warm, and she dumped them on the table.

  But the sleeve of her button-down shirt caught the wire, and her left earbud popped out. Scrambling, she caught it in her cupped hands. Which was unnecessary. In return for the earbuds not falling and rolling out of sight, she had to be careful with the wire getting caught by something.

  Twisting the earbud back in, Ahrisu shook out her clothes before rolling them to be as small as possible. She placed them at the bottom of her backpack, minus the hoodie, which went into the drawstring bag. She pulled the cords to cinch it closed.

  When she put on her backpack, she stumbled and grabbed the table’s edge. Never mind a turtle. She was a snail and was going to move like one, too.

  After folding the pillowcase, she placed it back in the bin and checked the floor and chairs to make sure she didn’t leave anything. Ahrisu hooked the drawstring bag around her left arm and clutched Dalnim in her right. She held the rain boots in her hand.

  The elderly man neared the end of the volume—or was it the beginning?—and Ahrisu leaned forward to catch his attention.

  “Thank you,” she said. No response. She tried again. “Thank y—”

  He raised his hand and didn’t look up. But he knew. She bowed and left the coin laundry.

  Up the stairs was presumably another exit, but she had no idea where in the surface world it’d lead her to. Somewhere she had already been was best.

  Ahrisu took out the left earbud, and it thumped against her jacket with every step. Many voices boomed from the bathhouses while nighttime shoppers wandered the marketplace.

  The water stall was empty; a placard simply stated to come back at eight. Crunching noises filled the air, as the snack stall shopkeeper munched on a bag of chips while looking at her phone.

  Mr. Hyeon, on the other hand, conversed with a neighboring shopkeeper, an elderly woman, who wore a pink hairband and tied her gray hair in a bun. She spoke brightly, but her expression didn’t match. Beside her was a Southeast Asian woman, sitting listlessly. She wasn’t much younger, the roots of her black hair graying, and she stared at nothing.

  More booming voices, on the verge of becoming boisterous shouts, and laughter overflowed from the food chambers. The sound of soju glasses clinking was as frequent as metal utensils clanging against dishes.

  The tunnel of shopping stalls was empty and the lights dimmed. Sheets of tarp covered the merchandise, and chairs and stools were stacked on counters.

  At least Ahrisu didn’t need to come up with excuses for the sisters. She boarded the elevator and pulled the lever up.

  The flickering lightbulb was brighter than the theme park, which was draped in darkness. The moon must be hiding behind clouds.

  She checked the stairwell, in case she could shelter inside the building. Heavy chains locked the doors. There was the race track, but it was too exposed.

  One place wasn’t, though, and Ahrisu climbed over the railing of the kiddie water ride. The seals from the cable car tracks would’ve “swam” through the elevated canal in the middle of the circular pathway. Leaves, most dry and a few caked with mud, filled it instead of water, along with silt. On the canal, she hunched over to enter the tunnel.

  The marine creatures and sea life on the walls were vivid, protected from most weathering. Ahrisu felt around the plaster floor. Cold, but nothing wet. She used her hands and feet to sweep a spot clean. Holding Dalnim, she set the rest of her belongings down.

  For starters, she kept her windbreaker on. While her flames fended off the cold and negated outside heat, they went dormant when she was asleep.

  She huddled on the floor and pressed her feet against the clear railing. When it didn’t break or collapse, she leaned back.

  The same thought popped into her head whenever she settled down for the night: why didn’t she have a sleeping bag? Then, she promptly remembered the last time she had one and how she burned it in order to escape after they sneaked up on her while she slept. A temporary comfort wasn’t a long-term investment.

  The rain boots. Ahrisu never bought a pair before because they were difficult to run in. But it wouldn’t hurt to have them while she trekked through the western coast of the peninsula.

  She set Dalnim on her backpack and took off her sneakers. She slipped on the left boot first. The shopkeeper was right. It reached her upper calf and was much stiffer around her foot than a sneaker was. But her toes had wiggle room.

  With the right boot on, she tapped them together. Such a pretty color, even in the dark.

  Ahrisu brushed off dirt from the soles of her sneakers and put them in her backpack. She had a number of tasks to complete before leaving Wolmido tomorrow, ideally by late noon. Not only did she need distance from them, but she also needed time to find shelter for tomorrow night.

  Buy a new filter and refill water, she thought. Buy something for the elderly man.

  What did elderly people like? Maybe he liked strawberries, too, but he could eat them for free.

  Taking out the right earbud, Ahrisu turned the MP3 player off. It was a waste of battery, and she didn’t want to sleep with her ears blocked. She wrapped the wires around the device before placing it in her backpack.

  With her drawstring bag close, she set the cap on top of it. She put the windbreaker's hood on and also zipped it up to her neck. She lied down on her side, the clothes in her backpack becoming her pillow, and curled her knees towards her chest.

  Ahrisu hugged Dalnim. It was a long day, a day determined by the choice she made to be smuggled here by ship.

  With the ocean waves muffled by the seawall, the tunnel, and her hood, this day she had to be free and feel free was worth it. Money could be earned and saved again. Tomorrow was another day on the run, but, for tonight, she breathed in Dalnim's clean scent and found her eyes closing without resistance. Outside the tunnel was the roaring T-Rex, and she asked it to watch over her while she slept.

  It did so through the night, but Ahrisu awoke to the piercing screams of sirens.