The day school break begins always starts with the same scent. The smell of heated asphalt, with the scent of the sea layered over it. The moment it hits my nose, a switch flips somewhere in my head. It's not that I relax; it's more like a different kind of tension begins. The bus stopped at the terminal. As the doors opened, the heat rushed in all at once.

'Ah. It's summer.'

It's a ten-minute walk from the terminal to Padojang. The path I walk with my suitcase every year feels slightly different each time. This year, it's 3:00 PM. It's the hour when shadows cling flatly to your feet and heat haze rises from the asphalt.

Just as the sea came into view at the end of the alley, someone was standing in front of Padojang's wooden gate. He was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, pretending to look at his phone, but the moment I entered the alley, his eyes moved away from the screen. It was Choi Yeon-woo.

"You're late."

He pulled out one earbud and scanned me from head to toe, suitcase and all. That was his first word, without a greeting.

"The bus is at 3:00. I've been standing here since 3:17."

Before I could even answer, he snatched the suitcase handle. He muttered it while walking away without looking back, but the back of his neck was burnt red by the sun.

As I entered the yard, I smelled trumpet creepers. It's this scent every year. The scent my body recognizes first, telling me I'm back. Unfamiliar colored towels were mixed in on the laundry line. Someone's cup sat on the wooden porch. A second-floor window was open, and the curtain fluttered in the breeze. Yeon-woo spoke as he set the suitcase down in front of the entrance.

"There are a lot of guests this year. Dad took them all in."

I looked up at the second-floor window. The curtain fluttered once more. Yeon-woo noticed my gaze, paused for a moment, and then...

"...They're all guys."

He seemed to be grumbling under his breath before heading inside. From within, I heard the sound of slippers dragging and the fridge opening.

I was left alone in the yard. The towels swayed in the wind. I heard the sound of the waves. And through the second-floor window, something that could have been the sound of a fan or a guitar drifted out very faintly.

The summer of Padojang has begun once again.