CF Chapter 3

Thud.

 

The dull sound came to an abrupt stop.

 

She froze without realizing it. Judging by the sudden silence, she wasn’t the only one. Just moments ago, there’d been murmurs and scattered voices, but now, an icy hush blanketed the room.

 

And then..

 

Clang!

 

At the sharp sound of something hitting the floor, Yudam’s shoulders jolted. For a second, she feared she’d dropped a plate, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

 

Something long caught her eye.

 

She hadn’t meant to look.

 

But the effort to pretend she hadn’t seen it was pointless, the object pulled her gaze in with a force that bypassed reason.

 

By the time she realized her instinctive curiosity had been triggered, it was too late. The image had already etched itself onto her retina.

 

Wrapped in creased fabric beneath a curved hook was a long, straight stick. Its tip tapered into a sharp point.

 

It was unmistakably… an umbrella?

 

What lay on the floor was definitely a long umbrella. Though dark in color, it looked damp in patches, as if it had been out in the rain.

 

But there was no need for umbrellas inside a cruise ship.

 

A chill crept up her nape, as though she had been the one caught in the rain.

 

It wasn’t hard to guess what the umbrella had been used for.

 

Not when something grotesquely crumpled lay close by.

 

She realized it was a person only because she could make out a head, limp limbs. The figure had all its parts, except one.

 

Everything below the neck was intact. But above that… the face was so crushed, so grotesquely deformed, it was impossible to discern any features.

 

“……”

 

So this is what it feels like when your words die before they reach your lips.

 

She’d occasionally imagined what might happen if someone ran afoul of a loan shark, maybe they’d get hit, end up with a bruised eye or a broken nose.

 

But this… This was beyond imagination.

 

It was the first time she’d seen someone who had truly been beaten.

 

Still, it looked like the person was conscious…

 

“Fucking clueless idiots.”

 

A voice sliced in, sudden and raw.

 

“Clueless people always lack common sense too. Every damn time.”

 

It was the only voice in the room now, and judging by what was being said, its owner had to be the one holding the umbrella.

 

A low, cold tone, talking about “common sense” after turning a person into pulp.

 

As the voice drew closer, the air shifted ,  a heavy silence rippling as though disturbed by a storm’s approach.

 

The speaker adjusted the atmosphere with ease. That alone told Yudam this person wielded the most influence in the room.

 

She had seen something she shouldn’t have.

 

She quickly averted her eyes.

 

Raised in a mansion surrounded by manicured gardens, Yudam had no immunity to raw violence like this.

 

But whatever she saw, it didn’t change what she had to do, just like her current position.

 

She resumed carrying the plates, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing.

 

Thump.

 

The soft sigh of leather cushions receiving a body followed the still air.

 

People were more sensitive to sound than they realized.

 

A strange noise would inevitably draw their heads, but this time, Yudam refused to look. She had a feeling that if she did, she might see something even worse.

 

“Don’t you think?”

 

She couldn’t help but respond to the question, one clearly directed at her.

 

A shadow stretched across the floor, dark and heavy, swallowing her whole.

 

Polished shoes that sparked an odd sense of déjà vu. A man who seemed out of place in this lavish setting, like a splash of grayscale in a Technicolor film.

 

Yudam slowly lifted her gaze.

 

And found herself locked in by a pair of murky gray eyes watching her from across the room.

 

The first thing she saw was the gleam of light on lenses.

 

Glasses, perched just above a sharply sloped nose.

 

His eyes, proud yet tinted with stormwater, flashed cruelly through the lenses.

 

The first feeling Yudam had upon seeing him was this:

 

The way his lashes cast shadows beneath steep brows, he looked like he could drag her under if she stared too long.

 

How long had he been watching her?

 

His gaze churned like deep water, steady and unrelenting, as if she were the only one in the room.

 

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward slightly from where he sat. A cold floral scent teased her nose.

 

The man in the flower-lined path… she remembered him.

 

She couldn’t say for sure if it was the same person, but the build was familiar. Even seated, his presence was overwhelming. As his position shifted, so did the angle of his gaze, tilted now, piercing.

 

The way his eyes bore into her made it impossible to hold his gaze.

 

Yudam bowed her head.

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

It felt like his words had been a personal scolding. She bit her lip, composed herself.

 

“I’ll bring it right away.”

 

She straightened her posture and moved with careful precision.

 

As if on cue, the room around them stirred again, filled with hushed activity. Conversations resumed, though no one dared glance in the man’s direction.

 

But Yudam could feel it.

 

The needles digging into the back of her hand. Like sea urchin spines pricking her skin, a sharp pain spread with each movement.

 

Someone was watching her. Closely. As if just waiting for her to slip.

 

His glasses felt like shards, each one a needle aiming for her nerves.

 

She didn’t know why he was watching her like that, but she knew one thing for certain.

 

One mistake, and it’s over.

 

That earlier comment about being clueless… she couldn’t shake the weight of it.

 

If she hesitated, if she lagged even a second, she was done for.

 

So she ignored the bloodied heap, the stained umbrella, and the eyes drilling into her, focusing only on setting the table. Her thoughts raced, trying not to miss the correct order of placement.

 

As she steadied her trembling fingers and reached for the next dish,

 

“Where are you from?”

 

The question fell from above, curious, almost childlike, like something you’d ask when meeting a new friend.

 

Unlike the sharp profanity from earlier, this voice was brighter, slightly amused.

 

Yudam’s hand froze.

 

“Ah, um…”

 

Something about the question felt off, like swallowing cold water deep in her belly.

 

What was she supposed to say? “From home?” “Seoul?”

 

All her answers sounded stupid. She’d never had anyone ask her that before.

 

Just as she was about to fumble a reply, the man spoke again.

 

“You’re new here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Her voice cracked slightly from swallowing too fast. She cleared her throat quietly and waited for more instructions.

 

But no more questions came.

 

Grabbing the last few dishes, Yudam hurried to finish.

 

She needed to leave.

 

She was terrified of making a mistake, terrified of him.

 

Sweat pooled on her back and brow as she faced her most nightmarish challenge since joining the crew.

 

When she finally emptied the trolley, she stood upright.

 

“Then… please enjoy your meal.”

 

If she could just bow, finish the farewell, and walk away,

 

“That’s it?”

 

His voice cut in, right on cue.

 

Yudam’s words crumbled before they fully left her mouth. The final gate had slammed shut in front of her.

 

She stumbled for a second, then composed herself.

 

“If, if there’s anything you need…”

 

She cleared her throat again and asked with practiced calm:

 

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

 

She couldn’t leave unless the guest dismissed her, said “you may go,” gave a tip, something.

 

So she stood, hands neatly folded, and waited.

 

But no response came.

 

She began to squirm inwardly, perched on thorns.

 

“Something I need…”

 

The man tilted his head, deep in thought.

 

But even then, his dissecting gaze never wavered.

 

As he casually crossed one leg over the other, his foot brushed lightly against her thigh.

 

Startled, Yudam tried to step aside, but her knees buckled slightly, and her upper body tilted forward.

 

Finally, the man’s gaze slid downward.

 

Lower. And lower still.

 

Until his ashen eyes froze in place, locked on a point only he could see.