Hakuda Photo Studio

by Her TaeYeon

Genres: Literary Fiction; Small Town & Rural

Synopsis

Have you ever been on a summer holiday so good you never want to go home again?

Jebi is tired of noisy, crowded Seoul and her dull job at a photography studio in the city. When she sees a billboard on her commute showing beautiful Jeju Island, she decides to quit her job and spend a summer there. On the last day of her trip, when she's due to fly back to her real life, she loses everything: phone, credit cards, plane ticket. Wandering through a fishing village, she stumbles across a tiny photo studio.

Staying to work there, she meets and photographs a young couple who are about to get married, an elderly ex-cop haunted by questions from his past, and the Jeju haenyeos, a group of local women freedivers who gather sea urchins. The photos Jebi takes capture the magic of the island and its people.

Release date: July 31, 2025

Publisher: John Murray Press

Print pages: 240

Sample

1

The Holiday Is Almost Over

The cobalt-blue sea stretched out from the sandy beach and fluffy clouds hung high in the sky. Under the midday sun, the water sparkled.

‘I don’t want to go home.’ Jebi sighed, her mood as heavy as the backpack pressing on her shoulders. All around her tourists were posing for photos in colourful beachwear. The air hummed with their happiness. Jebi thought back to when she’d first arrived at Jeju Island: she’d enjoyed herself just the same, then.

Has it been a month already? It feels like yesterday. A surge of sadness welled up in her chest at the thought of bidding goodbye to the summer.

‘Come on, hurry up!’ a woman carrying a neon-yellow surfboard shouted, as she brushed past Jebi.

‘Hold on!’ her companion yelled back.

Grinning, the first woman, kitted out in a black wetsuit, headed towards the sea. Dropping the board flat on the water, she positioned herself stomach-down on it, beginning to paddle out over the swell.

Jebi shaded her eyes. As a wave approached, the woman stood up, spreading her arms and crouching a little to lower her centre of gravity.

Those swimming nearby turned to watch her. Someone whistled and, as if on cue, the water surged. The woman rode the curve gracefully and then, before Jebi could blink, she had twisted her body so that she was doing a handstand on the board.

As the wave broke, she fell and its white crest washed over her.

Loud cheers from the watchers on the beach echoed in Jebi’s ears.

‘So cool. I wish I could do that.’

Jebi looked down at her bare feet. They made a light depression in the wet sand as the clear water sloshed gently around her ankles.

The trainers dangling from her hand felt extra cumbersome that morning. Just then her phone buzzed. Who’s texting me? she wondered, fishing out the phone from her pocket with difficulty.

It was Bora, her colleague from the photo studio in Seoul.

— About staying at my place . . . I don’t think I can put you up anymore :( Sorry, Eonnie!

Like an anemone in shock, Jebi felt her insides shrivel. Wait, what? At least tell me why. Flustered by this sudden change in her plans, she felt heat rising to her face.

Her phone buzzed again.

— My boyfriend hates it when he can’t come over anytime he wants >_<

‘Since when did she have a boyfriend?’ Jebi murmured under her breath. Ah . . . The arrogant prick.

Right before the trip, she’d noticed something going on between Bora and the new photographer at their studio. Sensing that he was pretty full of himself, Jebi had warned her friend not to get too close to him, but it looked like she’d gone ahead anyway.

‘As usual, falling way too hard, way too fast.’ Jebi chuckled drily.

She was about to start grilling Bora about it by text when something hard slammed into her suddenly, hitting her right in the eye. ‘Ow!’ she cried out as, knocked off balance, the weight of her bag pulled her backwards in the shallow water.

Gasping with shock, Jebi half rolled, half crawled back onto the sand. She’d once almost drowned in kindergarten while playing in water. The incident left her traumatised and she had not swum in the sea since then. While she loved the beach, it had taken her a good few days on this trip even to work up the courage to paddle.

‘What the—!’ A man in swimming trunks was massaging his forehead angrily as he glared down at Jebi.

Dazed, she blinked. What was happening? The man, and everything else around her, was black and white. ‘Oh my god, my eyes!’ Slumped on the sand, Jebi pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. ‘What were you doing?’ she yelled at him.

‘Aren’t you going to apologise?’ snarled the man.

‘Me, apologise! What about you?’ Her vision was still monochrome. Beginning to panic now, Jebi continued rubbing her eyes with one hand as she felt for her phone in her pocket and pulled it out.

It wouldn’t switch on.

‘My cards! My plane ticket!’ She shook the phone desperately, praying that it would come back to life.

The black screen stared back at her.

‘Oh no, no, no. This can’t be happening!’

The man continued to stare down at her. ‘How about looking where you’re going? Bloody backpackers!’

‘Hey, your forehead’s all red!’ The man’s companion said to him. She looked to be the same age as him – in her mid-twenties – her pink ponytail swishing around her shoulders. She turned to Jebi: ‘We should sue you!’

Pink?

Phew, she could see colours again.

‘You should look where you’re going!’ Jebi retorted as she tried to stand up, the soaking-wet weight of her backpack making it nearly impossible.

‘It’s not like you did.’

Jebi couldn’t think of a retort.

The pink-haired woman tugged on the man’s arm. ‘Come on, babe. Let’s not spoil our day.’

‘You’re right.’ Turning angrily on his heel, the man stalked away, his girlfriend stumbling after him.

Jebi could feel several pairs of eyes watching her from under beach umbrellas. Mortified, she scrambled up. Seawater streamed from her backpack down her legs.

Keeping her head down, she walked a few paces before breaking into a run, her uneven breathing and pounding heart loud in her ears.

Wanting to put as much distance as she could between herself and the humiliating scene, she turned a corner flanked by tangled weeds, not looking back until she reached a deserted spot. She’d left the sand behind entirely.

After making sure no one was around, she slumped down on some large basalt rocks. Her waterlogged backpack was heavier than ever. She set it down, and finally let the tears burst out of her.

10

The Haughty Geologist

As October came to an end, fluff-headed silver grass was blooming everywhere in the village, heralding a change of season.

It was a Wednesday, and the photo studio was closed as usual. Jebi, dressed in a wetsuit with an octopus design on the chest, held out an arm and let the grasses tickle her palm as she headed down to the coast. Sunlight bounced off the glistening water and onto her face

Jebi had been training hard, reminding herself of what might happen should she fail to learn to swim, disappointing the octopus god. Two or three times a week, she learnt diving from Yanghee, and on days the haenyeos didn’t go out to sea, Seokyeong took over. In the evenings, Mokpo Granny would always have a table of food ready, and because she ate well every day, sleep came to her easily at night.

The first time Jebi managed to submerge herself fully using her flippers, Yanghee had let out a high-pitched whistle, a sumbisori, as she surfaced again. Jebi had never seen her teacher smile so brightly. She had panted hard, trying to catch her breath, and when she’d turned around in the water, she noticed a few haenyeos had also returned to the surface, making their own sumbisori to catch their breath. Seeing Jebi’s, they had waved. And even though the autumn waters were cold, Jebi had felt a warmth course through her. Even without taking a photo, Jebi was sure she’d remember this moment for the rest of her life.

All the villagers seemed to have embraced them at last, and Jebi and Seokyeong were grateful. They’d fallen into the habit of staying after the Wednesday training sessions to help with the haenyeos’ heavy nets and to clean and prepare the seafood they’d harvested.

Today was the first Wednesday in November. Amid a light drizzle, the haenyeos were sitting under a faded tent set up on the beach, preparing the freshly caught sea urchins. Jebi’s job was to halve them with a knife before passing them to Yanghee, who would scoop out the innards into a bowl. Dongwon, who’d come with his grandma to wait for Yanghee, was having fun with Seokyeong, taking photos of the haenyeos at work.

Jebi scooted closer to Yanghee and whispered in her ear. ‘So why don’t you like our sajangnim?’

‘What?’ With half a sea urchin in one hand and a teaspoon in the other, Yanghee quickly looked around. The rest of the haenyeos were chatting among themselves and none of them seemed to be looking their way.

‘You heard me. Why do you dislike him? Where else will you find a man like that?’

‘He’s only interested in me because he wants to put roots down in this village. Not because he likes me,’ Yanghee said, as she went back to scooping out entrails with a practised hand.

‘What makes you think so?’

Yanghee snorted. ‘I can tell. He wants to be accepted here, to be koendang.’

If you want to be koendang, best to marry a local. She remembered Seokyeong telling her that. Or rather, he had been quoting Mokpo Granny. In any case, perhaps there was some truth in Yanghee’s words.

‘But you’re letting him bond with Dongwon—?’

Yanghee glanced towards the pair. Dongwon had climbed onto Seokyeong’s back, as if he was still a toddler.

‘We don’t have many younger men here, and Dongwon seems to like him very much. What can I do?’ Yanghee let out a sigh and elbowed Jebi. ‘Girl, you’d better hurry up. We’re losing speed.’

‘Oh.’ Turning her attention back to her task, Jebi grabbed a sea urchin that was attempting to escape and sliced it open.

When they were finished, Seokyeong insisted on giving Yanghee and her family a lift home, overriding her protests by pointing out that it wouldn’t do to make the elderly woman and the young child walk in the rain. Because Dongwon wanted to ride in the front passenger seat, Jebi sat behind with Yanghee and her mother in the SUV; Seokyeong had rented it for the long term in light of their increased bookings.

Yanghee’s home, a five-minute drive away, was a traditional stone house with a grey slanted roof. There, Dongwon’s grandmother insisted that their guests should be invited in.

After renovations, the interior didn’t look too different from a modern apartment. The living room, with traditional maru flooring, was small but neat. Wildflower-patterned curtains hung on the window overlooking the garden. And two walls of bookshelves were crammed with books.

As they sipped tangerine peel tea, Jebi felt a little embarrassed thinking back to Yanghee’s surprise when she saw that Jebi’s room had not contained a single book.

Who reads to study? You should read to feel. Yanghee’s voice rang in her ears.

Jebi was curious. What had all these books made her feel? What made her keep reaching for a new one? Had she found the feeling she was looking for, or was she still searching?

‘You have lots of books.’ Seokyeong voiced Jebi’s thoughts, ruffling Dongwon’s hair affectionately as he looked around the room.

Yanghee had disappeared into her room after serving them the tea, and Dongwon was fiddling with Seokyeong’s film camera.

Reminded of the last negative she had seen, tucked into an envelope at the photo studio, Jebi glanced at her boss. He hadn’t brought that up in a while. She’d have to ask him about it tomorrow. It’s high time he makes a decision, she thought.

‘Yeah. My mum does English translations,’ Dongwon said, puffing up in pride.

‘Translations?’ Seokyeong and Jebi spoke at the same time.

Jebi remembered that Yanghee had mentioned a side job. Was this it?

 

The next morning, the sky had cleared to a brilliant blue again. Strong winds had swept the clouds into a distinctive formation resembling a camera lens high above.

As usual, Jebi and Seokyeong began their Thursday morning cleaning. To get rid of the stale air in the gallery, they opened the windows and door. Today, they were unusually quiet as they went about their tasks, and Bell’s ears twitched as she cocked her head in confusion.

After wiping the tables, Jebi put the dishcloth to soak in boiling water before removing her apron. Then she went to a drawer and took out a neatly ironed one and put it on.

Seokyeong wrung the dishcloth dry and hung it on the clothes line behind the palm trees.

‘You’ve got to send that negative!’ Jebi blurted out, as he came back in from the garden.

‘I know, but . . .’ Seokyeong went to wash his hands before removing his apron. Once again, Stephen Gertz was grinning on his T-shirt.

Jebi held out a new apron to him when he returned to the counter. ‘I don’t get it. Why are you dragging this out? Imagine if you were the father of that missing girl!’

‘But . . . what about the detective’s family?’ Seokyeong unfolded the apron, shook it out with a snap and tied it around his waist.

‘Well, they’ve been living a great life.’ Jebi huffed.

‘So what? Must we punish people for being happy, send misfortune their way to make them pay their dues? I don’t think so.’

‘The misfortune was brought about by their father, not by you!’ Jebi shook her head in frustration.

Bell watched them bicker and licked her lips anxiously.

‘You can’t exactly say that either.’ Seokyeong scooped Bell up into his arms. ‘Do you think that old man has it easy? He’s probably living each day in uncertainty and fear, not knowing if or when I might expose what he did. That kind of suspense is worse than going on trial, or even prison.’

‘That’s just your guess!’ Jebi shook her head. ‘Fine. We’ll toss a coin.’ She fished out a coin from her pocket: a hundred won coin so shiny it looked newly minted.

‘What?’

‘That’s what he wrote in his letter, didn’t he? That giving you the negative was like a coin toss. So let’s do it for real. Heads, mail it. Tails, forget about it. Sound good?’

Seokyeong didn’t answer.

Jebi faced the entrance to the studio and flipped the coin. Thinking that they were playing fetch, Bell tried to wriggle out of Seokyeong’s arms but he held on tight to her in case she pounced on it and swallowed it accidentally.

The coin rolled noisily across the polished floor, out into the garden, hitting a rock – before dropping into the drain.

Jebi and Seokyeong ran out and peered down the hole. All they could hear was the sound of flowing water; there was no sign of the gleaming coin.

‘Ah.’ Their shoulders drooped at the same time.

At that moment, Seokyeong’s phone buzzed. He hauled it out of his pocket and answered the call. ‘Hajun Hyung, what’s up?’

Because the volume was on high, Jebi could hear Yoona’s dad’s voice filtering out.

‘I’ve sent a customer your way. She’s been taking photos at the sand dunes for the past two days and stopping by the bakery for some lunch. Oh, she told me something important—’

‘Sweetheart, that’s not why you’re calling,’ a gentle voice admonished. Jebi could hear Yoona’s mum, and a baby cooing, in the background.

‘Er, right. That’s not what’s important. The camera . . .’

‘What camera?’ Seokyeong frowned.

‘Well, I don’t know if you can do it, but I told her to look for you all the same.’

‘Wait, what is this about?’

Just then, they heard the crunch of tyres as a black compact car pulled up outside. With the phone still clasped to his ear, Seokyeong dipped his head towards the car. Jebi quickly smoothed the creases in her apron and straightened her shoulders.

‘I think she’s here.’

‘A black Chevrolet Spark? That’s the one. Okay, I hope you can help!’ With that, Yoona’s dad hung up.

A woman got out of the car. Unlike most of their customers, she wasn’t dressed for a beach holiday, having opted instead for a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, checked shirt, outdoor trousers and hiking boots. She moved with a tired gait, as if she’d just climbed a mountain.

She leant into the front passenger seat and picked something up, waving it in their direction as she approached. ‘Can you do something about this?’

Seokyeong looked at the object in her hands. It was a camera. Or rather, what used to be a camera. The body was smashed so badly that he could even see inside.

‘The mirror is broken. This is beyond my abilities. You’ll have to go to a professional. I’m afraid. Or . . . it might be easier to just replace it.’

The customer lowered her head and cursed under her breath.

Seokyeong and Jebi exchanged a glance.

‘In that case, can I rent a camera? I don’t have time to get it repaired.’ She took off her sunglasses, and now Jebi could see that she was a young woman, in her late twenties.

‘I’m sorry but we don’t offer rentals. If you’d like some photos, we can take them for you,’ Seokyeong said.

The customer placed a hand on her hips and let out a bark of scornful laughter. ‘No. You won’t be up to it,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

The woman jutted out her chin haughtily. ‘The kind of photos I want. Not just anyone can take them.’

Jebi raised her voice slightly. ‘My boss isn’t just anyone! He’s a great photographer!’

Before Seokyeong could stop her, Jebi took the woman’s arm and propelled her into the studio. The woman tried to reclaim her arm but to no avail. Bell crouched low and wagged her tail enthusiastically.

‘Look!’ Glaring at the customer, Jebi jabbed a finger at the wall behind the counter where the prize certificate and the award-winning photo were hanging in frames. Caught in the sunlight, the glass gleamed.

Seokyeong turned away, embarrassed. Bell followed him to the gallery and lay at his feet, rolling over for a tummy scratch.

Rubbing her elbow, the woman looked at the certificate. Her eyes widened and her lips moved slightly as she read the details. ‘I see. So he’s a certified photographer?’ The woman nodded. ‘As someone in research, I respect that. And his name . . . Does it mean “quartz”?

She walked briskly over to Seokyeong. Stopping in front of him, she held out her hand. ‘I’m Choi Songhwa. I’m doing my PhD at Jeju National University. My main research focus is on Jeju’s coastal sediments.’

Seokyeong, who was still giving Bell a tummy rub, stood up. He quickly wiped his hand on his apron and held it out tentatively.

The woman shook his hand firmly. ‘As you may have guessed, I don’t take photos of people, but of rocks.’

Seokyeong didn’t respond.

‘It doesn’t matter how great a photographer you are, you won’t know what I’m looking for. Your studio sits on a columnar joint – those prism-shaped stacks of basalt you see at the base of the cliff. You must have noticed them—? But as to which aspects of the rocks I’m interested in, and what angle to shoot them from, you would be clueless. That’s what I meant. That you don’t know how to take photos for academic fieldwork.’

‘It’s still photography. There are no photos our sajangnim can’t take!’ Jebi insisted.

‘Jebi, enough.’ Seokyeong shook his head discreetly at her.

The woman fixed Jebi with an amused stare. It wasn’t dismissive or angry; she was simply observing her.

Seokyeong grabbed Jebi’s hand and pulled her out into the garden, so that they were standing under the palm trees. Through the window, they could see the woman looking at the photos in the gallery.

‘Jebi-ya, what’s got into you?’

Jebi pointed to his T-shirt. ‘You can simply study his photos and learn, right?’

Seokyeong looked down at the grinning Stephen Gertz on his chest and shook his head. ‘I can’t.’

‘What?’

‘None of his photography was ever used for research papers, nor has he ever photographed a rock.’

Jebi’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Really?’ She pondered this for a moment, and then flashed a grin. ‘Okay, then learn it now.’

‘Huh?’

‘You can’t let a customer go like this!’ Jebi rubbed her index finger and thumb together, indicating that there was money to be made. ‘Get her to teach you. And tell her you’ll offer her a discount. It’s no loss to us: we don’t have any shoots planned today.’

‘What am I supposed to ask her to teach me? How to take photos?’

‘Fine. If you can’t work out what to say to her, I’ll do it myself.’ Jebi grabbed his arm and looked into his eyes. ‘Don’t forget that the first floor still belongs to the bank.’

While this whispered conservation was going on, the woman had sat down and begun playing with Bell. The puppy pressed her paws on the woman’s shoes and wagged her tail vigorously.

‘What’s her name?’ Stroking Bell’s head, the woman looked up as the two of them returned.

‘Bell,’ Jebi answered.

‘As in jingle bells?’

‘Nope. It’s Jeju dialect for “byeol” – star,’ Seokyeong explained.

It was the first time Jebi had heard this and she felt a stab of jealousy. The woman had only been here five minutes and already she was hearing important secrets.

Seokyeong had seemed to relax a little with the small talk. He walked over to the woman, shooing Bell away. ‘I’m sorry, but we just don’t loan equipment here. It’s a matter of principle,’ he said.

‘I see.’ The woman stood up to take her leave when Seokyeong, smiling shyly, stepped in front of her.

‘But I can offer you a discount . . . if you teach me how to take the photos you need.’

‘I don’t understand. Why would you . . . when you’re already a professional . . .?’ The woman looked in turn at Seokyeong and then his certificate on the wall, clearly surprised by his request.

‘Professional or not, I need to make a livelihood too.’ He rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

‘I can’t give you much. I’m still a graduate student . . . and my area of research isn’t well-funded.’

Jebi quickly brought out their price list.

The woman nodded. ‘An outdoor shoot, with a fifty per cent discount. Okay?’

‘Thirty per cent,’ Jebi interjected.

The woman jutted out her chin and looked at Jebi. ‘Forty.’

‘Thirty-five.’

The customer sighed and glanced at her watch. ‘Fine. But I’ll need you to carry my equipment.’

 

Stowed in the boot of the woman’s car was a large plastic container, the kind used for moving house. Inside was an assortment of tools including a hammer, various electronic devices, and a helmet. The geologist transferred everything into a backpack and stuffed it into Seokyeong’s arms.

‘I’m studying the formation of sand dunes and columnar jointing, specifically on this side of Jeju Island. I’d just finished taking photos of the dunes when I slipped and dropped my camera. All I need now are photos of the columnar joint below your studio. I also want to get a panoramic view of the landscape, so let’s head to the breakwater first.’

Seokyeong put the backpack in the SUV before returning to the photo studio for his own gear. Though they weren’t doing an underwater shoot, he packed his GoPro too, along with its waterproof housing.

As the white SUV cruised down the hill, Jebi lowered her window slightly, allowing the dry autumn air to seep into the car. Pretending to look at the scenery, she stole a quick glance at Seokyeong.

Since the freediving shoot, something had changed between them. Her feelings for him had begun to evaporate. Her encounter with her ex may have had something to do with it. But that wasn’t the entire reason. Seokyeong was different somehow. Jebi suspected the old man who had visited later that night was responsible. Every time she looked at the portrait of the ex-detective hanging on the wall, she was more convinced.

His visit had shifted something in the photo studio.

 

At the breakwater, the geologist climbed out of the car and stretched. From where they stood, across the bay they could clearly make out the photo studio and the columnar jointing it sat on.

It was the first time Jebi had looked at the little building from this vantage point, and her heartbeat quickened. She felt as if she was about to witness something wondrous.

‘I need you to take photos of everything.’ The geologist raised her finger, swiping it from left to right, indicating the entire length of the. . .