"She gets on my nerves," Ji-ri muttered.
A young South Korean, Ji-ri lives on a small island off the coast of Busan. She floats in the ocean, soaking up the sun in a floral swimsuit. On this early summer day, she tries to forget her aunt's constant judgment about her help with the island's fishing—twenty years of criticism—her entire life.
Suddenly, Ji-ri's body dissolves into water. Her scattered parts sift through the water, some exploring the coral. She gathers herself, reforming bit by bit, and propels to the surface.
Born on Egret Island, Ji-ri and her people rely on fishing for their livelihood. Their island, marked as 'Red Bay' on maps, sits atop a bed of rare bivalves, their main source of income.
Ji-ri's wet hair drips as she pins it up and heads to the shore.
"For goodness' sake, Ji-ri. I saw you," her aunt scolds, stomping through the sand in worn sandals.
Ji-ri meets her aunt's stressed gaze. "You have to stop being so at home in the water! Lord knows if we'll ever see you again," her aunt says.
"I know, I know," Ji-ri replies, making a soaked ponytail, eager for it to dry.
Her aunt sighs, smoothing out her worn sandals, refusing to discard them despite their condition.
"Ji-ri, we've never seen a Sea Link like yours. We worry for our little mermaid," Aunt Han sighed.
"I understand, Aunt Han. But I always come back. Plus, it's super hot today—" Ji-ri began.
"Enough! Get more clams. The buyers are coming soon, and we need the money," Aunt Han snapped.
Irritated that her sunbathing was cut short, Ji-ri bent down to the shore, drenching her hands in salt water. She heard a faint "you'd better not" but ignored it, focusing on the image of the clams.
"I want to see you," Ji-ri repeated in her mind, over and over.
A smile warmed her face as pounds of clams stacked atop each other. She opened her eyes to see a bivalve pyramid.
Turning around, a stinging pain radiates from her left cheek. Aunt Han's slap didn't surprise her.
"Did you not hear me? The buyers are coming! They know nothing of who we are, and you risk exposing our secrets!" Aunt Han roared.
Ji-ri stared at the waves, too angry to look up. She pointed behind her.
"The clams you requested," she said.
Ji-ri walked past Aunt Han, rubbing her cheek with one harsh gesture.
A few yards away in the ocean lies a large meteorite, considered the centerpiece of Egret Island by the Egret Natives. Since its arrival centuries ago, the meteorite has altered their drinking water, seemingly purifying their bodies and allowing them to go without water for weeks.
Once panicked by the prospect of dying in waterless deserts, their ancestors discovered they could survive much longer than expected. This led them to settle on Egret Island, drawn by the memory of its refreshing water.
Ji-ri walks past the darkening turquoise water, filled with sea plankton that makes the waves glisten like stars. She is grateful for the sea's contributions to Egret Island. Over the decades, the Egret Natives discovered more effects of the water: they can breathe underwater for ten minutes, their eyes are a mix of turquoise and grey, their hair is jet black, and their skin is flawless.
The Egret Natives possess unique qualities, such as a connection to marine life and appearing invisible underwater. They also have a high water content in their bodies, a secret they guard closely. Ji-ri herself contains eighty-nine percent water, making her the Thirst Child, a last-resort protector.
Ji-ri looked at the dark, warm blue sky as her neighbors' splashing feet exited the waters. Moss-green buckets brimmed with amaranth clams. Every day, they worked hard without expecting praise.
"Good haul today, Ji-ri!" called out one of the villagers, waving with a warm, grateful smile.
She waved back, pondering if their gratitude stemmed from her ability to hunt stacks of amaranths, saving them time. Household lights flickered on down the path like runway edge lights leading to Ji-ri's house. The day's work finished, and the Egret Natives gathered a bountiful haul, especially as summer approached.
"For two decades, more and more cyan-gram clams have drifted in," she thought. These rare clams, with their holographic shells, caught the eyes of socialites and bigwigs in Asia, blowing the Egret Natives' cover and making their land a target.
"Ji-ri, did you hear about the latest offer?" another villager asked, concern in his voice.
"Yes, but our Leader refused them as always," Ji-ri replied, her tone resolute.
Her parents and their friends knew more offers would come. They foresaw that the Leader's great-grandson, Seung-won, who admired money, could be easily bought. This was a code-red situation.
Ji-ri reached her door, unable to remember the last time she locked it. Her neighbors were sensible, so feeling unsafe was rare. Doors opened and closed as the unspoken clock-out time approached. The lights in Ji-ri's house were on in the kitchen, where Aunt Han moved about. To the right, darkness enhanced her father's movie-watching experience.
Ji-ri entered through the rustic, olive-dyed door. Despite her home being full of life, it felt devoid of a pulse. She went upstairs to her room, no longer phased by the lack of welcome.
"Ji-ri, you should have brought more clams," Aunt Han's voice echoed from the kitchen.
"Sorry, Aunt Han," Ji-ri replied quietly, knowing that criticism would follow. Her father's silence was worse.
Daily, Ji-ri endured Aunt Han's judgment and her father's indifference. Some days, Aunt Han showed unexpected warmth, especially when her father ignored Ji-ri. She cherished those moments despite Aunt Han's irritation when their thoughts didn't align.
"Father, can I help with anything?" Ji-ri asked, entering the dimly lit room where he watched movies.
"No," he replied curtly, not looking at her.
Since her fifteenth birthday, five years ago, he displayed disdain more openly. This deepened Ji-ri's yearning to know her mother.
Ji-ri's mother, a Thirsty Child, contained eighty-two percent water, making her an unfortunate candidate. She drank a stone from the meteorite and gave birth to Ji-ri to protect the island, sacrificing herself in the process. Ji-ri absorbed every drop of water in her mother's body, with the meteorite boosting her water content to eighty-nine percent. She could breathe underwater for two hours but risked becoming part of the water.
Rainy days were especially dangerous. If Ji-ri wanted to go to the mainland, the Leader banned her on those days. She prayed to stabilize her body one day.
"Please, Father, forgive me," Ji-ri whispered, knowing his contempt stemmed from witnessing her mother's rapid dehydration at birth.
Ji-ri focused on protecting her island. She calculated profits from selling clams but knew it wasn't enough. She needed to deter potential buyers. Staring at the meteorite outside her window, an idea struck her like a jolt. Adrenaline pumped through her as the plan formed.
"This could save us all," she thought, excitement stiffening her feet. She had no idea why she hadn't thought of it sooner. The best way to help the island might even bring Aunt Han a joy she never knew.