The boat rocked on the warm, lazy waves, as if yawning in the cool morning sun. It smelled of the sea - not the beach kind, but the real thing: sharp salt, damp seaweed, sticky fish. On the other side of the boat, the wind carried something lulling and elusive, spreading over the skin and carrying away fatigue. The world seemed to slow down, melting in a haze.

She sat right at the side, awkwardly clutching the ribbed handle of the spinning rod. A huge orange life jacket mercilessly hugged her from top to hips - definitely not her size. It stuck out at awkward angles, rustled and creaked with every movement, turning her into something between a girl and an airship. It was as if it had been specially created to make her awkward and funny.

The captain, sullen and weather-beaten with a face carved from dry oak, pulled this vest on her with the stubbornness of a father sending his child to first grade in the cold. "Don't you dare take it off. If you fall, no one will swim," he muttered, thrusting a fishing rod into her hands like a battle standard. "Here you go. You wanted to be part of the team - catch it."

"Actually, I just came to relax," she muttered, feeling superfluous in this dense, salt-smelling world. Nearby, Gong Yoo sat almost motionless, dissolved in the sea atmosphere. A ridiculous green Panama hat covered his head, eyes squinted from sun and smile. In one hand he held an unfinished soju bottle, in the other a glass he slowly filled and emptied.

He wasn't fishing, but his gaze never drifted from hers. Sometimes she felt him looking too long, too intently - as if her ridiculous vest and awkward gestures were either especially funny or especially dear to him. When she turned, he just smiled that heart-stopping smile: kind with hints of mockery, danger, or something else entirely unreadable.

"You hold the reel like it's going to bite you," he said lazily, not taking his eyes off her fingers.