The aquarium was quieter than Kang Min expected for a weekend afternoon.
Maybe it was the hour, still early enough that families were finishing lunch elsewhere, or maybe Seoul's population had simply thinned out over the past months in ways nobody wanted to say directly. Either way, the main hall was calm, lit in that deep ambient blue that made everything feel slightly underwater even before you reached the tanks.
Hus daughter walked between them, or more accurately, she walked ahead of them, stopping every few steps to press her entire face against the glass of whatever exhibit she'd decided was the most important thing in the world. She'd been doing it since the entrance. A small handprint and a nose smear left on every panel.
Woonhee walked with her hands in her jacket pockets, watching the girl with the patient attention of someone who had learned to follow rather than lead. She glanced sideways at Kang Min.
"You still haven't named her," she said.
Kang Min looked at her.
