Cold waves lapped against his legs and feet. Uijae didn’t care and kept moving forward. Splish, splash. By the time he was soaked up to his waist, just like Mackerel had been moments before, he turned around. Lee Sa-young was standing on the white sand, where the waves kissed his feet, watching him. His gas mask was off. His curly black hair and long coat tails billowed in the wind. He looked...

“I... can’t go.”

“…”

“If I go in… you might die.”

He looked desolate.

“…”

Was he like this when he was waiting for me at the West …