Jihyo
Jihyo watched as Lee —one of the managers—stepped forward, his posture calm yet commanding as he approached the man who would be their guide on their unexpected detour.
The manager introduced himself with an air of casual professionalism, his tone steady and warm, but Jihyo sensed the subtle caution in his voice—a careful dance to avoid revealing too much. It was better if he didn’t know who they were, who Twice was. For now, they were just a group of young women trying to find a way to their hotel in a foreign city after an unexpected storm had thrown their plans into disarray.
The man, leaning casually against the side of his boat, responded with an easygoing smile, his posture relaxed as they both explained the route and logistics. He seemed trustworthy, his demeanor reassuring, and as Jihyo observed their exchange, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease with his confidence.
The girls started climbing aboard one by one, Jihyo turned, reaching out to help Momo steady herself. The girl had brought along a small, somewhat clunky suitcase— from the hair and makeup team. Jihyo grasped the handle, lifting it onto the boat with a grunt, feeling the weight of all the supplies packed tightly within. The stylists had insisted they bring it in case any touch-ups were needed, and Jihyo couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them all trying to keep up appearances, even in the middle of all the chaos.
“Got it?” she asked, as she handed the suitcase off to Momo, who nodded gratefully. Jihyo gave her a small smile, watching as Momo found a place to settle.
The rest didn’t need much help, all getting on safely, so Jihyo turned her attention back to the man and Lee. The conversation was light, centered around the logistics of their route and how long it might take them to reach the hotel, noticing how Lee’s tone had softened, his initial wariness replaced by a gentle ease. The man’s friendly, laid-back demeanor seemed to have that effect, his casual attitude a welcome contrast to the frenzy they’d endured since the storm had hit.
Jihyo caught a few fragments of their conversation—the man estimated they’d reach the hotel within an hour, maybe less, if the weather held. His words were reassuring, his confidence calming. They’d been through a whirlwind of plans, detours, and setbacks, and finally, they had a clear path forward, however unconventional it might be.
The manager nodded, his gaze settled on Jihyo, a gentle reminder of his trust and the responsibility Jihyo carried within the group. “We’ll see you in a few hours,” he said, his voice low but firm, “Straight to your rooms when you get there, understood?”
Jihyo nodded, meeting Lee’s gaze with a steady confidence that contained the faint flutter of nerves in her chest. “Yeah I know, no funny business. I’ll take care of them. ” she replied calmly to reassure him.
They both shared a final nod, watching as the man untied the boat from the dock and prepared to set off. Slowly, it began to drift away from the shore, the gentle pull of the current taking hold as the engine thrummed to life. Jihyo felt a surge of excitement, tempered by the quiet responsibility that weighed on her shoulders—a feeling that was all too familiar but somehow comforting, as if it grounded her.
She sighted, letting her body relax and turned to face the open water, feeling the last bits of tension finally leave her. The clouds hung low on the horizon, remnants of the storm still lingered in the sky, but it didn’t feel threatening now, if anything, it felt like the chaos had finally passed. Like they could breathe now, with a clear path now ahead of them.
She didn’t notice when, but soon they drifted farther from the shore, the man—Kaito, or so Jihyo heard—began handing out life vests from a compartment beneath the boat’s seats, his movements casual but steady, like he’d done this a thousand times. He spoke in Japanese, his words quick and easygoing, prompting a quiet murmur of translations from Mina and Momo as they passed the message along.
“There aren’t enough for everyone,” Mina relayed to the rest of them. “He’s giving them to the ones who feel most nervous or… well, if anyone can’t swim.”
Jihyo immediately glanced around at the group, gauging each of their reactions. Tzuyu looked slightly pale, her eyes darting to the edges of the boat with a hint of unease. She’d never been the strongest swimmer, and Jihyo knew the idea of being on open water wasn’t exactly comforting for her. Momo, too, looked tense, though she managed a small smile as she took one of the vests, clearly trying to play it cool. And Nayeon, while not showing much outward fear, accepted the vest with a small nod, her fingers gripping it tightly as she adjusted it around her shoulders.
She took a deep breath, feeling a rush of relief as she watched each of them settle into their seats a little more easily. They might be a close-knit team, but she knew that everyone had their own hidden anxieties tucked deep inside, the things they tried to brush off even when they were quietly weighing on them. Knowing her members were as safe as they could be, even on a journey like this, gave her some peace of mind.
It wasn’t long before the hum of the engine blended with the loud sound of conversation among the girls. For a few minutes, they simply took in the surroundings, watching as the misty outlines of nearby islands slowly passed by, the water smooth and dark beneath them.
Eventually, as they grew more comfortable, one of the girls—Momo, if Jihyo caught it correctly—called out to the man, asking for his name. He looked back at them, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he reached into a bag by his feet and pulled out a bottle. Jihyo’s eyes widened slightly as she recognized the label—definitively whiskey, a strong one too, though he took a small, unhurried sip as he held his gaze steady.
“Kaito,” he said, gesturing to himself. His voice was deep, smooth, carrying the same easygoing energy he’d shown since they’d met. “My name is Kaito.”
The girls murmured polite greetings, each of them nodding or bowing their heads slightly in response. Jihyo noticed that, while he seemed calm and collected, there was a slight glint in his eye—something both friendly and mysterious, like he held his own private world that they were merely passing through.
Realizing the struggle with the language barrier, Sana quickly stepped in—her voice was featherlike in contrast to his—she introduced herself first and then continued with the rest of the members. Kaito listened, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement as Sana explained that they were a group of friends traveling together. Momo and Mina joined in, helping translate as the conversation unfolded, their voices clear against the gentle hum of the boat’s engine.
She leaned back, watching with appreciation as her Japanese members carried the conversation. They spoke fluently, effortlessly bridging the language gap, and she could see the way it helped everyone relax. There was a comfort in knowing that the three of them could hold their own in this setting, that they could communicate smoothly, even if the rest of them had to rely on polite smiles and nods.
“I don’t speak much Korean,” Kaito admitted, gesturing with the bottle in hand, “just a few phrases here and there.”
Mina smiled, nodding as she translated for the others. “He knows some basic Korean, but not much,” she explained, casting a reassuring look at her.
Jihyo smiled back at him, grateful for the way her friends managed to keep the conversation flowing. It wasn’t often that they found themselves in situations where language became a barrier, but this was one of those moments, and she felt a new appreciation for her members’ diverse backgrounds and skills.
She watched the man settle back into his spot by the wheel, his bottle still in hand. He had an air of experience, of someone who understood the rhythm of the sea and the currents that guided him. There was a quiet confidence in the way he held himself, and while she couldn’t say she fully trusted him, there was a certain calmness in his demeanor that helped ease her mind.
The girls continued talking quietly among themselves, occasionally exchanging translations through Sana, Momo, or Mina, but mostly just soaking in the rare silence and the stillness of the boat.
Jihyo turned her gaze back to the horizon, the boat gently cutting through the water as they left the shore behind. It was an odd feeling—this calm mingled with the thrill of adventure, the sense that they were moving forward, not just in a literal sense but as a group, bound together by trust and the unspoken understanding that they were in this together, no matter what awaited them on the other side.
/////////
Time slipped by as the boat continued its steady course over the dark water. Jihyo sat near the back, glancing at the girls around her as they shared conversations or gazed out over the sea, each lost in their own thoughts. She glanced down at her phone, half-expecting the next message from Park or Lee, but her screen remained blank. Frowning, she refreshed it, but there was nothing—no texts, no missed calls.
She felt it then, the faint sense of unease begining to settle in her chest, a small but insistent worry that she couldn’t quite ignore. It’d been over fifteen minutes since they’d last checked in. The managers had been clear about their expectations, and they weren’t the type to let even a single check-in go unanswered.
Jihyo straightened, looking up at the girls and raising her voice just enough to catch their attention. “Does anyone else have signal?” she asked, hoping maybe it was just her phone acting up.
The others quickly checked their phones, a series of frustrated sighs and puzzled frowns passing between them as they realized that, like her, they were all out of range. Jihyo’s stomach twisted—she’d been so focused on the boat that she hadn’t thought to check for something as basic as signal strength.
Nayeon looked up, her brow furrowed. “I don’t have any bars,” she muttered, glancing around the open water. “Are we even close to shore?”
Jihyo bit her lip, looking toward the front of the boat where Kaito sat, his figure silhouetted against the murky sky. She’d assumed they were close by now—they should have been close, at least. But as she looked around, there was no hint of land in sight, only the endless expanse of water stretching in every direction.
Her uneasy just kept growing, something edging along that line between worry and fear rose in her stomach. Her eyes settled on Kaito, who still clutched the bottle in one hand, occasionally tipping it back to drink while he steered the boat. He’d seemed calm and in control earlier, but now, as she looked at him more closely, she noticed the way his movements had grown sloppy, how his head couldn’t stay still, or the occasional sway of his shoulders as he shifted.
Steeling herself, Jihyo glanced over at Sana, who was sitting nearby, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Sana,” Jihyo said, keeping her voice steady, though she could feel her pulse quickening. “Ask him how much longer until we reach the hotel”
Sana looked up, nodded and turned toward Kaito, in a clear soft voice she relayed the question in their language. But Kaito didn’t respond immediately; instead, he took another sip from the bottle, his eyes distant, as though he hadn’t fully processed the question.
Jihyo’s heart sank as Kaito finally muttered something under his breath, a slurred string of words that barely resembled an answer. She watched as Sana’s face shifted too, confusion crossing her features as she glanced back at Jihyo.
“He said... I don’t even know what he said. I can’t understand,” Sana murmured, her tone uncertain. “I’m not sure he even understood the question.”
A ripple of tension spread through the group, and Jihyo could see the unease settle into each girl. Mina and Momo exchanged a worried look, while Nayeon’s hands tightened around her life vest as her gaze darted toward the water.
Jihyo took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm, even as her mind raced through a dozen worst-case scenarios. She had her role in the group, and if she let her worry show, it would only heighten the anxiety simmering amongst them all. But with no land in sight, no signal on their phones, and Kaito growing more incoherent by the minute, she couldn’t help but feel the first real pangs of fear kicking in.
She turned Sana´s way again, her voice firm this time. “Try asking him again. Tell him we’re supposed to be close now.”
The girl nodded in agreement, though Jihyo could see the worry beginning to cloud her own expression. She repeated the question, her tone a bit more serious this time, but Kaito only shrugged, his eyes glassy as he muttered something about the beauty of the sea and the endlessness of life.
Jihyo’s heart sank further, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. She’d trusted this plan, trusted her instincts—and now, with each passing moment, it was becoming clear that something was very, utterly wrong.
The silence that followed was thick and heavy, each of the girls casting looks around one another, the sense of adventure they’d felt earlier replaced by a creeping fear. Jihyo tried to steady herself, mentally bracing for whatever came next, but a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered what she didn’t want to admit out loud: we’re lost, with no way to call for help, and no clear way back.
She could feel the tension radiating from each of them—Mina clutching her life vest, Nayeon pressing her phone to her chest as though it were a lifeline, Tzuyu staring off into the endless stretch of water with a look of quiet dread. Even as their leader, Jihyo felt the edges of panic creep into her own mind, her thoughts racing with uncertainty.
Momo tried dialing emergency services, her hands shaking as she repeatedly hit the call button despite the lack of signal. Nayeon was doing the same, her face tight with concentration as if sheer determination could somehow make the call go through. Each of them clung to the last remnants of logic, to the hope that someone might answer on the other end, that they weren’t entirely cut off from the world.
But that fragile hope shattered in an instant.
Jihyo’s heart froze as she heard the sound of movement from the front of the boat. She looked up, feeling a sharp jolt of dread as Kaito turned toward them, his expression portraying a terrifying madness, his eyes glassy yet focused, fixed on them with an intensity that made her blood run cold.
She didn’t notice, not at first, but the glint of it made it unmistakable. In his free hand—the one not clutching the bottle— he had a gun.
The sight of it sent a shockwave through the group, their fear transforming into something sharper, more immediate. Her breath caught in her throat, her mind scrambling to make sense of the situation as she stared at the weapon in his grip. Around her, she could hear small gasps, the shuffling of feet, each of the girls instinctively pulling back, pressing themselves against the sides of the boat as if that would somehow create distance.
Kaito swayed slightly, his grip loose, almost careless, but his gaze was anything but. He raised the weapon just slightly, gesturing toward the phones clutched in their hands, his voice slurring heavily as he barked out a command in Japanese. “Put them down,” he mumbled, his words running together, thick and nearly incoherent. “Throw them… throw them in the water. Now.”
The girls looked at each other again, a silent question passing between them, the unspoken fear written on each of their faces. They hesitated, their disbelief mingling with terror as they processed his words. Jihyo felt her pulse race, her mind scrambling to think of something, anything, to diffuse the situation.
Sana looked pale, hey eyes glassy and yet she composed herself for a second to whisper a quick translation to them, her voice so low it barely reached above the hum of the engine. “He… he wants us to throw them to the water.”
“What?” Nayeon whispered back, her grip tightening around her phone. “No. Sana—”
But before they could ask anything further, Kaito stumbled forward, his face twisted with a mixture of anger and desperation. He held up the gun, his hand shaking as he pointed it at them, his voice rising in a half-sob, half-laugh that sent chills down Jihyo’s spine.
“Throw them!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “You’re not… not gonna get in my way. They’re.... they’re waiting for me… we’re supposed to… supposed to leave it all behind.” His words came out in fragments, tumbling over one another as his voice shifted between laughter and tears.
Jihyo’s breath caught as Sana hurriedly translated, her voice shaky trying to stay composed. “He… he’s saying his friends are waiting for him… that… that they’re ending things together.” Sana’s voice got quieter with each word, the horror settling over her features as she began to realize the weight of what he was saying.
But his words began to sink in amongst the group, a wave of understanding washing over them like ice water. This wasn’t just a detour or a simple misunderstanding. Kaito was here to end things, to find some twisted sense of closure out in the middle of the sea, and he’d brought them along, unknowingly, into his final moments.
Nayeon’s face paled even more, her hands trembling as she clutched her phone tighter to her chest, as if holding onto it would somehow anchor her to reality. Mina let out a quiet gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as she struggled to keep herself steady. Even Tzuyu, normally so quiet and composed, looked stricken, her gaze darting between Jihyo and the others, her face white with fear, was if begging them to shield her.
She felt a strange, detached calm settle over her—a reflex she’d developed over the years in their business, a kind of numbness that allowed her to focus even in the worst situations. But even now, as she tried to think, the dread gnawed at her, threatening to overtake her.
“What do we do?” Momo whispered, her voice barely audible as she looked to Jihyo, her eyes wide with terror, pleading the girl to guide them.
Jihyo forced herself to meet Momo’s gaze, even as her own fear surged within her. She couldn’t let her panic show. Not when every girl was looking to her, trusting her to find a way through this.
“Just… do as he says,” Jihyos tone was firm, but her voice was barely steady, fighting the tremor that threatened to seep through. “Let’s not provoke him.”
As the words left her mouth, Kaito’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to grow impatient, a flare of anger cutting through his drunken haze. “I said throw them!” he screamed, the sudden intensity of his voice shocking the girls into silence. His grip on the gun tightened, the weapon trembling slightly in his hand.
Slowly, she lifted her phone, holding it out toward the edge of the boat, her gaze fixed on Kaito’s face, watching every flicker of emotion in his expression. The other girls followed suit, their movements slow and deliberate, each of them hoping that compliance might buy them some time, a sliver of safety in their nightmare.
Jihyo turned to Sana, her own phone held tightly in her hand as she glanced at the man, her eyes filled with barely contained tears. None of them understood how they ended up here, how an innocent detour had led them into this.
Dread took over the boat like a storm, mingling with the sound of soft, stifled cries as the girls clung to each other, each feeling the deep gnawing helplessness they faced. Their phones, now gone, had been their last connection to safety, to someone who might come to their aid. Without them, they felt utterly vulnerable, adrift in the vastness of the sea with no way of reaching out for help. Jihyo’s own hands trembled, her pulse a frantic beat in her ears, but she fought to keep herself calm, for the sake of the others.
Beside her, Mina was barely breathing, panic taking over her as her wide eyes stared the man down in shock. Jihyo reached out, brushing her arm, grounding her with the slightest touch. Still she noticed Kaito’s gaze fixed on Mina, his eyes narrowing as he took in her empty hands, and she knew just then the thought that crossed his mind.
“I said throw it.” he slurred, his eyes hardening as he raised the gun, his aim falling squarely on Mina.
The world seemed to slow. Jihyo felt her stomach twist painfully as Mina froze, her body rigid with terror, her lips parted but no sound coming out. The gun wavered in his grip, but his gaze was steady, intense, leaving no room for argument.
The girls around them started to beg, their voices pleading, desperate, each one trying to reason with him. Nayeon’s voice was choked with fear as she tried to explain, “Please, she doesn’t have it! She lost it! She doesn’t have anything!”
Mina tried speaking too, but she was too far gone, lost somewhere deep in her head, her words barely more than a whisper as she stammered, “I—I don’t have it… I don’t—”
But Kaito’s face twisted with anger, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. He shook his head, his grip on the gun tightening as his face contorted with rage. “Liar,” he spat, his voice cracking as his anger flared. “You think I’m stupid? I said throw it!”
In his fury, his finger slipped on the trigger, and a shot rang out, the bullet tearing through the air hitting the water mere inches from Mina’s head. The explosion of sound was deafening, a violent shock that tore through the silence, leaving the girls gasping in terror.
Jihyo’s heart leapt to her throat, her hands flying to her ears as she watched the bullet hit the ocean, the spray of seawater splashing over Mina’s shoulder. The girls screamed, each one clinging to the other, the realization of just how dangerous this man was settling over them like a suffocating weight.
Mina’s eyes filled with tears, her face crumbling in fear as she tried to explain herself again, her voice so low that she was surprised the man even heard it. “Please... I’m begging” she cried in Japanese “I don’t have it... I—I really lost it...I swear...”
But Kaito was beyond reason, his semblance turning to something darker, something unstable, as he barked out a command that chilled them all to the bone.
“Prove it,” he snarled, his words thick with slurred fury, his voice shaking with frustration. “Undress. Show me you’re not hiding anything.”
A horrified silence fell over the boat, each of the girls froze, their minds struggling to process his words. Mina’s face went blank, her body stiff as though she’d turned to stone. Jihyo felt a wave of nausea sweep over her as she realized what he was asking, the sheer horror of the situation settling over her like ice.
Mina’s hand was trembling, her fingers barely able to hold onto the edge of her shirt as she looked around, her eyes wide and pleading. She seemed too afraid to move, too terrified to breathe, her face pale and tear-streaked.
Jihyo squeezed her hand, her voice gentle but firm as she whispered, “Just do as he says.” Her own heart was pounding, her thoughts racing, but she knew that right now, Mina needed her to be steady, to offer whatever strength she could.
With shaky hands, Mina reached for the buttons of her shirt, her fingers fumbling, struggling to work through the fear that clouded her every movement. Jihyo felt her own heart twist painfully, her fists clenched as she watched her friend try to steady herself. She wanted nothing more than to shield Mina, to protect her from the cruelty of this man’s demands, but in this moment, there was nothing she could do but stay by her side.
One by one, Mina undid the buttons, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she slowly shrugged off the shirt, her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at the others. Each piece of clothing she removed felt like a surrender, a painful concession to the control he held over them, and Jihyo could sense the shame and fear radiating from her.
When Mina reached her pants, her fingers shook so violently that Jihyo almost reached out to help, but she held back, not wanting to draw more attention to Mina’s distress. Mina managed to unbutton them, sliding them down with trembling hands, her body tense, as though bracing herself against the vulnerability that came with each layer shed.
Finally, she stood in nothing but her underwear, her shoulders hunched, her arms instinctively crossing over herself as she stood exposed before him, before everyone, tears streaming down her cheeks. The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, each of the girls holding their breath, their hearts pounding with fear and sorrow as they watched their friend endure it.
Jihyo saw Kaito’s gaze linger on her for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he examined her, looking for any sign of deception. He didn’t leer or linger—his expression was one of anger, not desire, his focus entirely on his suspicion that they were hiding something. Finally, he seemed to accept it, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he realized she truly had nothing to hide.
With a grunt, he reached behind him, grabbing a towel and tossing it in her direction, his expression still hardened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Cover up,” he muttered, his words barely coherent as he stumbled back to his place at the front of the boat.
Mina caught the towel, wrapping it around herself as she sank to the floor, her body trembling as silent sobs racked her frame. Jihyo knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, her heart breaking as she tried to comfort her, to offer some sense of safety in this moment of complete uncertainty.
The other girls just stood around in complete silence, all od them staring with blank eyes as tears streamed down their faces, processing what’d just happened. Fear hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating, and Jihyo knew that each of them was grasping the idea, the same terrifying realization that they were truly, utterly helpless.
She watched Kaito slump back, clutching his bottle as though it were his last connection to sanity. His earlier anger had faded, replaced by something more broken, more haunting. His hands shook as he took another long gulp, his movements growing more unsteady, more erratic with every sip.
A strained, garbled apology spilled from his lips, his voice thick and slurred, barely coherent. He mumbled words that sounded like remorse, fragments of apologies that almost seemed genuine—almost, if not for the chaos he’d unleashed moments before. He looked at Mina, his eyes glassy, as he muttered something that might have been, “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to...” but the words dissolved into more slurred, disjointed sentences, barely making sense. “I’m taking you... your hotel.”
Jihyo’s heart pounded as she kept her gaze on him, trying to make sense of his ramblings. He spoke in Japanese, and the words spilled out in a jumbled mess, but she caught pieces here and there. He missed his brother, he said—a loss that, from the way he spoke, Jihyo understood was recent and raw. Tears ran down his cheeks as he talked to himself more than to them, his words tumbling out in drunken, slurred phrases about reuniting with him soon.
He was spiraling, lost in a pain so profound he couldn’t see anything beyond it. Every word he said only confirmed that they were caught in the middle of something they shouldn’t have stepped into, something far darker than they’d realized, something they could neither control nor escape—at least, not without taking any risks.
A sudden shift in movement caught her attention, and Jihyo’s eyes widened as she watched Jeongyeon step up, her expression resolute, her gaze locked on Kaito as he continued muttering to himself, too lost in his own broken thoughts to notice.
Without warning, Jeongyeon surged forward, taking advantage of his distraction as she shoved him hard, sending him tumbling backward. He staggered, his grip on the bottle slipping as he lost his balance, and before he could regain his footing, he toppled over the edge of the boat, plunging into the cold, dark water below.
The splash seemed to echo in the eerie silence that followed. Jihyo’s heart was in her throat as she watched the ripples spread across the surface of the water, her mind racing to catch up with what just happened. For a moment, none of them moved, each frozen in shock as they processed Jeongyeon’s impulsive, decisive action.
She was still kneeling right by Mina’s side, but she saw Chaeyoungs face light up with understanding as she darted toward the wheel. Jeongyeon moved alongside her, and together they gripped the controls, frantically adjusting them as they struggled to steer. The boat lurched forward, picking up speed as the engine roared to life, and Jihyo felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins.
The girls clung to the sides of the boat, the sudden rush of motion jarring them from their shock as the boat sped ahead. Jihyo looked back, catching a glimpse of Kaito flailing in the water behind them, his figure growing smaller as the boat surged farther away. the sense of fear and relief mingled within her, her heart restless as she realized they were finally, finally putting distance between themselves and the danger they’d been trapped with.
But the open sea stretched endlessly before them, the horizon a faint line that seemed to blend into the sky. Jihyo’s stomach twisted as the relief she felt moments before abandoned her again, a sinking feeling that they were adrift, no signs of land, nothing but water as far as the eye could see.
“Where are we going?” Momo’s voice was small, quivering, her hands trembling but clutching onto her life vest, her wide eyes filled with fear.
“We’re going back,” Jeongyeon replied, her voice tight with determination as she kept her grip on the wheel, her knuckles white. “There’s nowhere else to go.”
She felt it then, her gratitude for Jeongyeon and her quick thinking, her willingness to act in a moment when all of them had been paralyzed by fear.
The engine’s steady hum filled the open space, all of them holding on tightly, their faces pale and drawn as they stared out at the endless stretch of ocean. Chaeyoung kept her focus on the horizon, her jaw set, but Jihyo could see the worry etched into her expression. They’d turned the boat, trying to follow the same path they’d taken, but there was no way of knowing for sure. No way of knowing where the boat was taking them.
She took a shaky breath, her mind reeling as she tried to think, to plan, to find something—anything—that could guide them. They were lost, cut off from the world, adrift in a sea that seemed to stretch infinitely in every direction.
Dahyun stumbled to the edge of the boat, clutching the railing as her body gave way to the fear and shock that had been building inside her. She leaned over, emptying her stomach into the waters below, her entire frame shaking with each breath. The sound of retching, of pain, adding to the dread that was overtaking them all.
Sana moved forward, her shaky legs taking her to Dahyun’s side, her hand resting on the younger girl’s back, moving in slow circles trying to comfort her. She was crying, tears streaming down her face as she tried to steady Dahyun, whispering soft reassurances even though her own voice was thick with grief and fear.
Jihyo watched them, her heart aching as she took in the quiet breakdown happening around her. Each of them was unraveling in their own way, the horror of what had just happened settling deep within them. She felt a strong pull to help them, encourage them, to say something that would make the fear go away, but she was lost in her own sorrow, grappling with the terrifying weight of her responsibility.
She made a move to stand just as Nayoen moved towards them. Sitting next to Mina, who’s body was still rigid, shut down, petrified, her gaze empty. The girls eyes were vacant, staring out at the endless expanse of water without seeing, her mind lost somewhere Jihyo couldn’t reach. Nayeon moved closer, placing a hand on Mina’s shoulder, her expression soft with worry as she tried to bring her friend back.
She let Nayeon take care of the girl, she was doing a better job than her anyway. She looked upfront, where Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung were gripping the wheel with tense expressions on their faces. She made her way to them, surprised in herself with how steady she managed to be.
“What are we going to do?” She whispered, not wanting the rest to hear. She knew the answer, but hearing it out loud felt grounding, as if saying it might give them some semblance of control.
Jeongyeon’s eyes were focused ahead, scanning the horizon for anything—any sign of land, a passing boat, something to break the monotony of the blue surrounding them. She shook her head slightly, her jaw set as she replied, “We keep moving. There’s nothing left to do.”
With her face pale but resolute, Chaeyoung nodded to her side. “We have to reach land eventually,” she whispered back at them, though her voice held a trace of doubt, not believing her own words. “We can’t just stop. Not out here.”
Jihyo nodded, forcing herself to accept the plan—or the lack of one. There was no map, no signal, no landmarks to guide them, just an endless stretch of water with no clear direction.
So they moved, the boat rocking slightly as the hours slipped by in silence, cutting through the water as the sky darkened, shifting from a stormy gray to the deep, shadowed hues of night. One by one, the girls let the exhaustion truly sink in, their earlier panic dulled by sheer fatigue, each of them retreating into themselves as the weight of their ordeal settled over them.
Jihyo stood at the front of the boat, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out at the empty sea, her mind drifting into the unknown. She wondered if anyone was looking for them yet, if their managers had sounded the alarm, if a search had begun. Would they send out boats, helicopters? Would they even know where to start looking?
She tried to steady her worry, but still the hopelessness threatened to creep in, her mind haunted by questions that had no answers. Were they just another small, untraceable dot on a vast map of endless blue? Would anyone be able to find them in the middle of nowhere, with no phones, no way to communicate, no beacon to signal their location?
She closed her eyes for a moment, the ache of exhaustion pressing down on her too, a heaviness that settled deep within her bones. The girls were counting on her, looking to her to stay strong, to find a way out of this. But as the darkness closed in around them, the sea stretching endlessly in every direction, she felt the first real pangs of doubt seep into her heart.
A cool breeze whispered over the water, rustling her hair, and she took a slow, steadying breath, holding onto that small, fleeting moment of calm. She didn’t know if help was coming, didn’t know if they’d see land by morning or if they’d continue drifting with the sun. But she knew one thing—she couldn’t let them give up. She wouldn’t let them give up.