By the time the motor engine died down, Ahrisu’s eyes were dry. As was her face, and she quietly thanked Ms. Go before holding onto her own hood.

  The hard lump lodged in her throat dissolved into numbness. She couldn't do anything more for the little girls so she tucked them away deep inside, three drops of water in an urn filled to the brim with white ash.

  When the boat grew still, Ahrisu raised her head. Lights gleamed through the glass doors of a tall building. The boat gently rocked against a floodgate, which barricaded the lower half of the short entrance. Sandbags were stacked on the adjacent garden wall.

  She craned her neck upwards, squinting through the rain landing on her face. ‘Hotel Blue,’ said the sign in English. Or it was supposed to, but the “o” and “u” were missing, and both “l”s were lopsided.

  The water level was much higher here, like at the seawall. Waves lapped against a wall-like floodgate beside the front entrance. The lights were out, but the large “P” on the sign indicated this was the hotel’s underground parking garage. To the right was another building, about a floor or two shorter than Hotel Blue. Hotel Yellow, also in English.

  “Team 6 has arrived,” the male rescuer spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Please provide assistance at the entrance. Over.” A muffled voice responded, unintelligible.

  “Wa,” said Ms. Go, twisting around. “They really have an efficient system going on here, huh?”

  Lights flashed behind them. Ahrisu glanced back, trying not to rock the boat. Across the street was a building, not as tall as the hotel. People on the rooftop scanned the water with floodlights.

  Someone spoke over the walkie-talkie, and the male rescuer replied, “Understood. Over.” To his partner, he said, “Got the all-clear. No large debris around. Let’s move quickly.”

  The rescuers disembarked and waded in the waist-high water. They moved the boat close to the garden wall, enough that Ms. Go could grasp the sandbags, and kept it still.

  The hotel door opened. A young man, bony and with a gaunt face, didn’t wear a raincoat or poncho over his simple t-shirt and pants. He stepped on top of the garden wall with a stretch of his leg. A harsh gust could knock him down, but he lugged the topmost sandbag back until two steps were formed. He reached out his hands.

  “Grab onto me,” he said. “Be careful.” When Ms. Go stood, Ahrisu supported her by lifting up her backpack until she climbed out of the boat with the young man's help.

  Ahrisu was next. With wobbly knees, she shuffled towards him, and he grasped her hands first. His cold fingers were all bones, but his arms didn’t shake, as he pulled her over the sandbags.

  Her boots sank into soggy soil, and she stomped over to the wall. Ms. Go also helped her down, and Ahrisu landed in front of the entrance.

  “Aigo, young man,” Ms. Go exclaimed. “Thank you for your help. And thank you,” she called out to their rescuers, who returned to the boat. “We would’ve been stranded without you. Stay safe.”

  They bowed in response, and Ahrisu bowed, too, as they sped away down the road. After fixing the sandbags, the young man hopped to the ground. He was lanky, but tall. Until he hunched over and stared at his feet.

  “It’s this way.” His voice earlier, loud and confident, was reduced to a murmur. He held the door open, and Ahrisu followed Ms. Go inside, where they took off their hoods.

  The hotel lobby was converted into a control room. Folding tables bore the weight of computers, monitors, and various machines, along with the occasional travel mug and water bottle. Cords and cables ran down the tables, neatly tied together with either zip ties or hook-and-loop fasteners. Those running on the floor towards outlets on the walls were protected with cord covers. Folding chairs creaked, as individuals busily clicked on mouses and typed on keyboards, not looking away from the monitors.

  “Watch your step,” said the young man, gesturing at the floor.

  Across the entrance was a canal, about the length of an adult’s stride and the height of Ahrisu's knee. A puddle formed at the bottom while a hole leading outside the building was covered. She scraped the mud and grass off her soles on the canal's edge before leaping across it.

  Standing in the center of this operation was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his 40s. He appeared handsome, but it was hard to judge with how dark and intense his furrowed brow was. While he held a walkie-talkie near his mouth, the sleeve of his raincoat fell over his left hand. His poncho wasn’t wet.

  “Team 3,” he said, “I need confirmation the area is clear. Over.”

  With so many electronics at work, Ahrisu and Ms. Go stayed clear of the cables and outlets. She helped Ms. Go take off her poncho, then dropped her belongings in a dry spot.

  “Look at that,” whispered Ms. Go. Her eyes were transfixed by the left-hand wall.

  It was covered by a series of screens, formatted like grids. They showed CCTV footage of what appeared to be underground parking garages. The cameras pointed at both the entrances, blocked by massive floodgates, and the elevators. Balconies were situated above the latter. There, people crouched behind the railings, one person for each elevator. Beside them were levers.

  Other screens showed the underground community. A few individuals stood in the marketplace lots, wearing ponchos and holding walkie-talkies. Others ran up and down the staircases before joining them on the platforms. The cable car tracks were devoid of vehicles.

  “Hotel Blue,” said the man, “Hotel Yellow. We have an all-clear. When the sirens go off, open the floodgates. Over.”

  He nodded in the direction of the young man who helped Ahrisu and Ms. Go inside and a female subordinate, who stood by the right-hand wall. She slammed a red button there. Flood warning sirens blared, and Ahrisu covered her ears. Without hesitation, the young man pulled down a lever.

  In the CCTV footage, the floodgates outside the garage were raised. Water seeped through before it roared into a rushing current. The elevators underground were, in actuality, other floodgates, which rose and revealed openings covered by grates.

  Ahrisu busily tracked the water across the screens, as it surged down tunnels and flooded the staircases of the community. It ran through the marketplace as a river. The floodwater reached the wall near the cargo elevator. Except, it wasn’t a wall, but another tunnel. The entrance to the vertical farming area was sealed off.

  “Team 1,” said the man, “what are the water levels like? Over.”

  After a muffled response, he nodded at the subordinate by the siren. She inserted a key and turned it. The warning went silent, and the young man raised the lever.

  The floodgates outside the garages were lowered. Outside the front doors, the water’s surface rippled and appeared to be the same level as before. Floodlights continued to illuminate it.

  The man lowered his walkie-talkie, only to hand it to the female subordinate. He stepped away from the center and glanced at Ms. Go before his gaze landed on Ahrisu. Scowling. She gulped and lowered her head. What was he angry about?

  “Hello,” said Ms. Go brightly. “Your operation is extensive. I’m very impressed.”

  She offered her hand to the man, who didn’t relax his brow, but still shook her hand and bowed.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Look at my manners,” Ms. Go laughed. “I arrived here just this morning. The bus was empty, and the driver dropped me off at the outskirts of town. No wonder. You can call me Ms. Go.”

  “I’m Cho Minwook. People call me the chonjang of this community.”

  The village chief? Then again, if he eased his brow, he’d look similar to the vice-village chief.

  “Oh, I can tell,” replied Ms. Go. She motioned at Ahrisu, who’d much rather be left out of this conversation and ignored entirely. “And this person right here is Ahrisu. She let me shelter with her.” When the village chief glowered at Ahrisu, Ms. Go quickly added, “She’s a very kind child.”

  “If you’re kind, you must be smart, too,” he told Ahrisu. “But, to my understanding, you slept overnight at the theme park. In full view of the seawall. What’s the point in being kind if you don’t think?”

  His voice was a register below a shout, and Ahrisu gripped her windbreaker until her knuckles were white. The floor blurred.

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  “Do you not even know where this area is?” he continued. “Is that seawall out there just for decoration? Who in their right mind sleeps in a flood area? Right at the waterfront? Do you have a death wish?”

  The village chief shouted at the end, and Ahrisu flinched. She wished the current had swept her out to sea.

  “Aigo, Chonjang-nim,” said Ms. Go. “She’s still young. I know this is a very stressful situation, but please be compassionate. She’s someone’s precious child. We all are.”

  The hard lump in her throat returned. Ahrisu was a nobody. She wasn’t anyone’s “precious child.” She never was . . .

  “Chonjang-nim.” It was the young man speaking. “Her clothes are all drenched. She’s going to catch a cold.”

  Ms. Go clapped and readily agreed, complimenting his thoughtfulness. Since the village chief didn’t say anything, Ahrisu wiped her face on her sleeve and kept her head lowered.

  The young man instructed her to take off her jacket and boots here so she didn’t track in water near the equipment and carpet. She moved to empty her rain boots in the canal, but Ms. Go took them instead, insisting she’d do it.

  A puddle formed where Ahrisu stood. She unzipped her jacket and tried to shrug it off, but pain shot through her left shoulder. That was where she crashed into the boarded-up building. Holding back a wince, she slowly took off her jacket and left it on the floor.

  The young man brought back gomusin and a towel for her, and she dipped her head in thanks and took them. But he wouldn’t let go.

  Ahrisu glanced at him, only to see his eyes were trained on her left arm. While her shirt was plastered to her skin, the sleeve was also rolled up. The bruises, in the process of healing, turned purple and green overnight. Clearly in the shape of fingers.

  Ahrisu fixed her sleeve, then the other, just in case, before tugging the gomusin and towel out of the young man’s grip. He walked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Putting the shoes on first, she draped the towel over her shoulders and wore it as a cape.

  The village chief looked elsewhere, but his brow eased up. Either his fury abated with time or he saw her arm. She didn’t know she’d be grateful for her bruises causing a misunderstanding.

  Ms. Go set Ahrisu’s boots upside down when the doors crashed open. Squeaky shoes pounded across the floor.

  Potato boy. The hood of his poncho flew off, and wet hair fell over his eyes. Not half-open, this time. He gaped at Ahrisu with long, large eyes, as his mouth fell open. She stared back. What was he doing here?

  “You little punk.”

  The village chief's eyes darkened, as potato boy slowly stepped forward. His eyes were still on Ahrisu, and his chest visibly moved with every breath.

  “Where did you run off to?” the village chief shouted. Potato boy looked at him. “How dare you abandon your position? What were you going to do if the floodwater reached the park? Which you abandoned to go running off to who knows where in the middle of a flood—”

  “Father.”

  . . . ‘Father?’

  “I know I did wrong,” said potato boy. “I know—”

  “Then, how dare you speak up?” his father shouted. “Who runs around like a maniac in the middle of a flood? Are you invincible? Your life isn’t your own. Who do you think you are, huh? To make your mom panic like that.”

  Somehow, his anger subsided the more he shouted, and the village chief was left fuming, yet quiet. Father and son resembled each other, except the father was still taller.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” said potato boy. “And I’ll apologize to Mom, too. Later. But let me help her first.” He gestured at Ahrisu. “She’s shivering from the cold.”

  She really wasn’t, but she made a show of tightening the towel around her.

  “Why would you do that?” his father asked in a biting tone. But he didn’t shout. “Do you not have work to do?”

  “I don’t actually. But,” potato boy added when the village chief sucked in his teeth. “I’m the only one who’s not needed. Who here can leave their seat right now? And . . .” He glanced back at Ms. Go.

  “Ms. Go,” she told him.

  “And Ms. Go is a guest here. I’m the only one who can help.”

  Why he’d want to help Ahrisu was beyond her, though that meant the village chief stopped scolding the both of them. Yeah, that was probably it.

  The village chief glowered at his son, but said, “Go. Use your aunt’s room.”

  Potato boy eagerly nodded and took off his poncho, careful not to get water everywhere. The young man tossed him another pair of gomusin, as potato boy pulled his rain boots off. His father didn't stop scowling, but his eyes were restless, scanning his son from wet head to wet toe.

  “I’ll take your bags,” potato boy whispered to her. “My clothes are dry.” Before Ahrisu could respond, he slung her backpack over his shoulder and carried the drawstring bag. He remembered what her belongings looked like.

  “Aigo, what a reliable young man,” exclaimed Ms. Go, hitting his back. He laughed a little, but rolled back his shoulders with a wince.

  “Are you not going?” Ahrisu asked her.

  “I’m fine. My clothes aren’t wet. Besides, I want to watch this whole operation again. I can do that, right, Chonjang-nim?”

  Cho Minwook simply bowed. “Of course. I’ll get you something warm to drink.”

  “It’s this way,” potato boy whispered to Ahrisu. The gomusin squelching from her socks, she wormed her way through the maze of tables while he strode confidently.

  Past the lobby was a short hallway, where the elevators were located, and he went, “Ah,” and stopped short.

  “Kangjae-ya.”

  Jangling keys soared through the air, and potato boy—Kangjae—caught them with one hand. The young man, slouching, turned around and walked away without waiting for a reply.

  “Thanks, Hyung!” he called out before muttering to himself while sorting through the keys. “Why do they keep so many keys in one ring?”

  But he soon grinned and inserted a silver key in the panel. When the elevator was unlocked, the doors slid open, and he let her board first. He pressed “5” for the topmost floor.

  Kangjae. Cho Kangjae. That was right. Ahrisu read his surname and the beginning of his given name in the ledger. Kangjae.

  “Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere?”

  He studied her so intently that Ahrisu couldn’t maintain eye contact with him. “I’m okay,” she murmured. “I was caught in the rain, not the flood.” When the elevator dinged, she stepped out first.

  “Are you sure? Like, no cuts or scrapes anywhere? A tetanus infection is serious.” He had no reason not to believe her, and she shook her head, not wanting to repeat herself.

  Kangjae went down the hallway to the right. Every other ceiling light was on, emitting a dim glow against the walls and doors, like smudged orbs. "You have to tell me," he continued. "Right away. If you feel dizzy or have a shortness of breath or something."

  Ahrisu frowned. How much longer was he going to fret over her? He stopped at a door, Room 506, and searched through the keys again.

  “By the way,” he said, not looking at her. “What’s your name? You heard mine. Kangjae. Cho Kangjae. So it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

  It wasn’t a big deal, sharing her name, but she squirmed and brought the towel to her chin. “Ahrisu,” she murmured.

  “Ahrisu? Like ‘Ah’ is your surname, and ‘Risu’ is your given name?”

  Her cheeks flared. What was wrong with her? “No surname. It’s just Ahrisu.”

  “Ahrisu.” A snort. What the—She shot him a look, as he pressed his hand to his mouth. And tried to hold back laughter.

  “Your name’s tap water?” Kangjae gasped out. “Like actual tap water?”

  No wonder his father’s brow was perpetually down-turned. “Is it that funny?” she said.

  He cleared his throat, though laughter still bubbled in his mouth. “No, no. It was wrong of people to call tap water ‘ahrisu.’ Taking a pretty name like that and using it for ‘tap water.’ So mean.”

  A pretty name. Ahrisu pulled the towel closer around her and dug her shoe into the carpet. Pretty . . .

  “We make a funny pair, don’t we?” Kangjae unlocked the door. “Tap water and structural steel. My dad’s naming sense was really something.”

  He flipped the light switch on and held the door open for her. Ahrisu didn’t know about them making a “pair,” but it was quite the combination. Water and metal.

  The room was neat and sparse with two beds. Replacing a TV on the stand was a map of Wolmido, written over with markers and covered in stickers.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” Kangjae kicked down the doorstop. “It’s technically my aunt’s room, but she just sleeps here when there are floods.” If his aunt was the vice-village chief, then she had to be his father's younger sister. Unless he appeared a decade older than his actual age.

  Kangjae turned on a light switch and opened another door. “Here’s the bathroom. Do you have a change of clothes?” He set her bags on a table by the windows.

  “I think so,” Ahrisu replied, pulling open the curtains. “I have to check.”

  The sky was frozen in a state that was neither nighttime nor a downcast daytime. A dark gray sheen was cast over what would be the middle of the morning. Raindrops splattered against the windows, and the room had a full view of Wolmido’s sea. Churning waves crashed against the seawall, battering vehicles and the monorail.

  The thought of what would’ve happened if Jwichi’s ship sailed today and not yesterday made Ahrisu close the curtains. Much like what Ms. Go said, that one instance of good timing made up for all her bad luck.

  Meanwhile, Kangjae darted around the room, throwing open the drawers of a nightstand between the bed and the doors of the wardrobe. He muttered to himself while crouching by the TV stand before taking out a box.

  “My aunt, seriously,” he grumbled. “Something like this should be kept out in the open. Just because she’s sturdy doesn’t mean everyone else is.” He offered her a first aid kit.

  “I really don’t need it,” mumbled Ahrisu, taking it from him. Was he a mind reader? Telepathy, not telekinesis.

  “Do you have any plans for today?” he asked.

  The current took those plans with it, and she was effectively stranded here until the floodwater receded so she shook her head.

  Kangjae brightened, his half-open eyes returning with his beaming smile. “Then, do you want to go on a job with me? When my aunt gets here. I have a feeling you’ll be perfect for it.”