Back to the Sea

Paris to Incheon. Flight AF0268.

Arrival at the terminal at 06:19, twenty-four minutes behind schedule.

The moment he stepped through the airport gate, the wind rushed at him, violently whipping the hem of his coat. Seoul's weather, plunging into the depths of winter with only a few days left in the year, was brutal.

He had given his scarf and gloves to Yeehyeon and nagged him to stay warm, but compared to this, Paris had felt almost like spring. Still, Liu Weikun felt no need to pull his coat collar tight. His right hand gripped his phone firmly in his pocket, and his left thumb was quietly tracing the ring on his ring finger. That was enough.

Following the driver who carried only a single Boston bag — no suitcase, traveling light — Liu Weikun spotted the car and immediately quickened his pace, overtaking him. He had forced himself to wait from the moment the plane landed, wanting to have a relaxed conversation, but he couldn't hold back any longer.

[Did you arrive?]

As if he'd been waiting, Yeehyeon's voice came through before the ringtone even finished its second ring.

"Yeah. I just got in the car."

Only after hearing Yeehyeon's voice did Liu Weikun finally relax his shoulders and lean back into the warm seat. There was always that fear — that once he left and returned to Korea, everything that had happened there would feel as though it had never existed.

[You must be tired. Did you sleep on the plane?]

"Mm... no. Not a wink."

[Why?]

Yeehyeon asked with concern.

"Everything in Paris felt like a dream, so I was too excited. And thinking that your gift would be waiting for me at home kept me wide awake."

[......]

Yeehyeon fell silent on the other end, but Liu Weikun could perfectly picture him smiling faintly. The sounds came through one by one — something being set down on a table, a chair scraping across a wooden floor, the quiet sounds of making tea and sitting down at a desk. Even those small noises were lovely to hear.

The car was entering Yeongjong Bridge. Looking out at the West Sea, Liu Weikun glanced down at his left hand and smiled.

"You have no idea how many looks I got just moving around inside the airport because of this ring."

At the airline counter, during departure procedures, in the lounge while waiting to board, and even after getting on the plane — how many men's and women's eyes had shifted from his face down to his finger. Judging by the changes in their expressions, he went on at length, more animated than usual, about how effective this one small ring was.

"I never realized before how many people were looking at me."

[That makes it even more annoying. How could you not know? Or maybe you're just so used to it by now that you stopped noticing....]

Hearing Yeehyeon's voice trail off into a quiet mutter, Liu Weikun laughed softly.

"But now, I've come to need those looks."

[......]

"I wanted someone to notice the ring. So once I started paying attention, I realized people were already looking."

Even the driver — someone who never reacted to what went on in the back seat — seemed to stiffen slightly at the unusual conversation, where the word "ring" kept coming up.

[People might think I'm the one who gave you that ring.]

"You did give it to me. You gave me permission to wear it."

[......]

"Seo Yeehyeon, you remember our promise, right? Don't feel guilty just because I'm this happy."

[Yes. I will.]

"I'm so out of it right now that I should probably avoid driving myself for a while."

From the other end of the line came the soft sound of Yeehyeon laughing quietly.

He wanted Yeehyeon to feel no pressure at all. When the moment came that his heart moved naturally on its own, he would take out the other ring himself — just as he had done when he forgave himself.

Until then, all he had to do was love him. Loving him was something he would do for the rest of his life. There was no reason to rush.

After the call ended and Yeehyeon disappeared from the other side of the line, Liu Weikun grew restless. What gift might be waiting at home filled him with something that bordered more on fear than anticipation.

Unable to wait even through the brief pause as the parking garage gate opened, he got out of the car first. It was difficult to believe he had just endured an eleven-hour flight when now he couldn't sit still for a second. Entering the garage ahead of the car, Liu Weikun opened the door leading down to the underground studio Yeehyeon had once used.

"......"

He had continued cleaning and maintaining the basement himself. Hating the way abandoned spaces grew bleak without their owner, he would come down here to read, handle leftover work, and sometimes bathe alone. But no matter how much time passed, he could never bring himself to sleep there alone.

In the few days he'd been away, something must have shifted. The damp darkness that had never seemed to lift no matter how carefully he managed the place had melted away, and bright white sunlight filled the space — just as it had when Yeehyeon used to stay there.

Forgetting the urgency that had driven him here, Liu Weikun slowly looked around the studio, smiling silently as he toyed with the ring on his left ring finger. It had probably already become a habit.

He ran up the connecting stairs two or three steps at a time, then slowed to a stop at the entrance to the living room. Leaning against the wall that divided the dining area from the living room, right beside the sofa, was a carefully wrapped box.

Now that it was right in front of him, it felt too precious to touch. He couldn't even bring himself to step closer, standing at the entrance for a long while just staring at it. Even without knowing what was inside, the sight of it wrapped so carefully made his emotions surge. It was even harder to calm down because he could already sense that the gift was a painting.

After showering, changing clothes, brewing coffee, and pacing aimlessly in front of it for a long time, Liu Weikun finally opened the wrapping in the afternoon.

"Mm...."

A groan slipped through his pressed lips.

As if in real pain, he bent slightly forward, drawing in his shoulders and furrowing his brow.

The reason Yeehyeon had smiled at him without hesitation when he spotted him on that snowy Paris street. And the reason he had immediately burst into tears and begged him not to go.

Inside the box were two canvases, paired together.

Each measured roughly one meter on each side, and both depicted the same image. They matched with such precision that one might think they had been printed in a factory. A blue image with a unique texture, created using various materials and multiple tones of blue.

Reproducing the same work identically using the exact same colors was no easy task even for the artist who created it. Most artists would rather paint something new. While it lacked the burden of creation, it demanded extraordinary patience and precision.

Only after slowly examining the first piece and then properly facing the second did Liu Weikun realize that the blue image was the sea.

Unlike the first piece, there was a very small figure — no bigger than a fingertip — painted in the lower right corner of the second canvas. A person surfing, wearing nothing but swim trunks.

"Ah...."

The figure in the painting was extremely simplified, yet like the waves he had seen in Bali, the sense of freedom it conveyed atop the sea came through vividly.

That was Liu Weikun as seen by Seo Yeehyeon.

Yeehyeon had described him as someone like the sea — something that gives freedom, something that accepts. But Liu Weikun thought otherwise.

What made the cryptic blue image look like the sea, what gave color to a formless ghost... was a person. Because there was a person floating on a board and riding the waves, the sea could be the sea. When there was someone who listened to his voice and called him by name, the ghost could be given form. It was Yeehyeon who had set him free.

After staring at the two paintings placed side by side for a long while, Liu Weikun opened the envelope that had come out of the box. On the postcard-sized card — looking as if Yeehyeon had drawn on it himself — there was only a single line.

Colorful Ghost — Him and Me.

The singular title, formed by removing the "s" from Colorful Ghosts, caught his eye immediately.

There was no need to write a long story on the card. He was already saying everything he wanted to say in the language most natural to him.

Lowering himself to his knees in front of the painting, Liu Weikun carefully traced the blue texture — like the scales of a mermaid — with his fingertips. The living room, which had felt like parched, bone-dry sand after Yeehyeon left, was now filled with rolling blue currents and white waves.

Liu Weikun tightly clenched his ringed left hand with his right.