The harbor at dusk.
The air smelled of tide and oil.
It stung the back of the nose.

Damp wind stroked the wet plank road.
The unreliable light, just before the sun vanished, stretched the shadows of the three walking ahead.

A slope with the sea at its back.
Salt walked, watching Hannes’s back while listening to boots strike the cobblestones.

The man ahead shook the hemp sack on his shoulder and turned.
Black curly hair tied back tight.
A faded bandana on his forehead.
He grinned, narrowing brown eyes, his mouth hidden by stubble.
He did not have Jack’s pressure.
But the arms exposed by his rolled-up shirt were tightened like steel from daily labor.
Practical strength.

"Eat at my place today. First time we’re all together in a while."

A low voice, but it carried well.
Jack deepened the wrinkles between his brows.
He shook his head.

"I’ll pass. Too noisy over there."

"No passing allowed."

Hannes’s tone left no room for argument.
Jack started to say something, but Pain threw a hand high in the air.

"Free food! No objections!"

The sudden shout made Salt’s shoulders jump.
Jack’s sharp gaze stabbed Pain.
Pain shrugged with theatrical exaggeration and turned his face to Salt.
A face like a child caught in a prank.
Salt stared back, blank.
Pain grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Seeing that expression, the tension in Salt’s shoulders finally loosened.

"Hey, Salt. You’ve never had Hannes’s cooking, right? It tastes like... something you don’t know."

Salt tilted his head.
Cooking.
Taste.
The words were familiar.
But Pain’s smile looked tight.
Salt did not understand why.
Hannes snorted and thumped his chest.

"Today is my special stew."

At that declaration, Pain covered his face with both hands.
A deep sigh leaked through his fingers.
Jack looked up at the sky, cleared his throat, and walked faster.
Resignation.

The narrow road continued up the slope.
The evening wind suddenly felt colder.
Salt pulled the collar of the coat tighter.
A strange atmosphere drifted from the two backs ahead.
Was something terrible waiting at the destination?

They stood before a stone house.
Light leaked from the cracks of a thick wooden door.

The road back had smelled only of cold iron and tide.
Here, the air was different.
The smell of baking bread.
The smell of boiling root vegetables.
They mixed and tickled the inside of the nose.
It smelled like an old blanket from somewhere in Salt’s memory.

Hannes put a hand on the door and pushed.

A sound like a blast of hot wind hit Salt’s eardrums.

"Father!!"

Three small shadows flew in like bullets.
Hannes spread his arms and caught the impact.
Thud.
A heavy sound.

The children clung to Hannes’s wiry arms and waist.
High-pitched voices burst in the air.

"Welcome back! Today, fishing... pretended!"
"Stone... heavier than sword!"
"Look! This!"

Strings of unknown words.
But the bouncing, high resonance shook Salt’s skin.
Hannes laughed, his face crumpling as he supported the swaying weight.

Suddenly, the children’s eyes turned this way.
The target changed.
Salt took a half-step back.

"Big brother!"
"Came!"
"Play!"

They dashed toward Pain.
In an instant, they climbed him, clinging to his arms and shoulders.

"Whoa, hey, wait! The main unit is a precision machine, it breaks easily!?"

Pain staggered, raising a voice like a scream.
Beside him, Jack made a sound in his throat.
A laugh.

Salt stood in the doorway, unable to move.
The house was too bright.
And hot.

The heat of the fireplace and the density of human body temperature.
The overwhelming energy pressed against Salt’s chest.
It was hard to remember how to inhale.

Quiet footsteps approached from the back of the kitchen.
A woman wrapped in steam appeared.
Hannes’s wife.

She smiled at Pain in the center of the noise, then noticed Salt frozen at the door.
Her eyes narrowed gently.

"Oh... cute guest. Was it cold? Come in."

A soft voice.
Cute.
Cold.
Enter.

The known words reached the ears as distinct sounds.
One beat late, Salt stepped onto the stone floor.
The air filled the lungs.

It smelled of freshly washed linen and that stew—something slightly burnt.
It was rounder than the smell of "home" Salt remembered.
It had no sharp corners.

Steam rose from the large wooden table, turning the vision white.
The savory scent of baked bread.
The sweet scent of boiled vegetables.

But the pot sitting in the center of the table had a different presence.
Hannes opened the lid proudly.

"Ta-da. My special stew."

The contents were gray-green.
Like mud, or the bottom of the deep sea.
It had a thick viscosity.
Bubbles popped slowly.

Salt watched the expression drain from Pain’s face.

"Wow... the color... it’s muddy... like a wall..."

The wife’s shoulders shook.
She laughed.

"A taste that chooses its person, apparently."

Hannes handed spoons to the children.
The "swamp" was served onto everyone’s plates.

Along with the steam came a scent Salt could not name.
Dried fish, sweet fruit, and something like medicinal herbs.

Pain moved first.
He lifted the spoon to his mouth as if resolving to die.

——Freeze.

Time in the house stopped.
Only Pain became a stone statue.

"Hannes... what is this?"

"Special broth for vitality."

"World's worst. My tongue is numb. You should register this as a weapon."

"Hey!"

The children raised their voices all at once.

"Father's food, bad!?"
"Poison!?"
"Hey Dad, are you gonna die?"

"I am NOT dying!!"

Explosive laughter shook the narrow dining table.

Jack ate a mouthful in silence.
He swallowed without moving a single facial muscle.

"...Not bad."

Pain collapsed onto the table.

"You lie... your taste organs are dead..."

Salt looked down.
A plate with gray-green liquid sat there.

Fearfully, Salt dipped just the tip of the spoon and placed it on the tongue.

Instantly, a sharp stimulation ran through the tip of the tongue.
Not bitter, not sour.
A shock shook the brain.

The throat closed on its own.
Salt’s eyebrows jumped.

Wordlessly, a hand swam through the air, seeking water.

Salt found a cup and poured the cold liquid down, holding it with both hands.
The burning sensation in the esophagus finally settled.

The wife, watching this desperate sequence, smiled softly and held out some bread.

"It’s okay. The bread is normal."

Salt nodded slightly and took the bread.
Fluffy texture.

Salt tore off a piece and put it in the mouth.
The simple sweetness of wheat spread out.
The stiff cheeks finally relaxed.

After the meal.
The full children slept on the rug, piled on top of each other.

Only the sound of firewood bursting in the fireplace echoed.
Snap.
Pop.

The firelight swayed on the wall, creating large shadow puppets.

Pain placed a blanket over a sleeping child’s shoulder.
He stroked the hair gently.

His profile was different from his usual noise.
It held a stillness, like a calm sea.

Hannes had already thrown off his work shirt.
He sat cross-legged, naked from the waist up.

The firelight cast deep shadows over his brown skin and forged muscles.
He drank liquor with rough movements and placed another cup in front of Jack.

"Because I have times like this, sometimes I get scared to go out to sea."

"...A man with things to protect can afford to be a little cowardly."

Their voices were low.
They melted into the sound of the fireplace.

Low, calm resonance.
The tone flowing between them resembled the warmth of the fire.
It settled deep in Salt’s chest.

Salt sat near the wife, watching her hands as she mended clothes.
She stopped the needle and turned to Salt.

A warm hand reached out and combed through Salt’s hair.

"Actually... I’m not good with that stew either."

She whispered like she was sharing a secret, closing one eye playfully.

Salt blinked without making a sound.

The rhythm of fingers in hair.
The faint friction of the needle passing through cloth.
The presence of a child rolling over in the distance.

All of it became a comfortable weight, piling up inside Salt’s body.
It was warm here.

The sharp wind of the outside world, the touch of cold iron—none of it was here.

Pain glanced over.
He smiled as if relieved, and his shoulders dropped.

Out on the night alley, the wind stabbed the cheeks cold.
But it was not unpleasant.

To skin flushed with the heat of the house, it felt good.

Three shadows lined up on the cobblestones.
The light from Hannes’s window moved away behind them.

Salt stopped and looked back.
The window light floating in the darkness.
It wavered.

The laughter of the family felt like it still remained faintly in the back of the ears.

Pain stretched big next to Salt.

"Ah, that tasted terrible. ...But, it was kind of nice."

Salt nodded quietly.
The fingertips in the coat pocket felt slightly warm.

Deep in the chest, instead of the intense taste of the stew, the sweetness of the bread and the sensation of being petted remained thinly.

Salt looked back one last time.
The window light swayed small.
The presence inside the house breathed quietly behind it.

Jack slowed his pace watching them, but said nothing and faced forward.

The three strides naturally synchronized.
The shadows falling on the cobblestones overlapped faintly and swayed.

Exiting the night alley, the sea breeze grew stronger.
In the distance, ship chains rang.
The harbor lights flickered.

Pain rotated his shoulder and breathed out a white sigh.

"Work again tomorrow, huh. ...Hey Jack, did you really think the stew was 'not bad'?"

"Not bad."

"Absolute lie."

Jack did not answer.
Pain dropped his shoulders exaggeratedly at the silence.

Listening to the exchange, Salt let out a small breath.
White breath melted into the night sky.

Salt quickened the pace softly, closing the distance to their backs.

The three shadows stretched gently, eventually dissolving into the narrow alley of the night.

The light of the house behind was already far.
Like a single remaining star, it swayed forever.