Chapter Text
"Is this my end, then?"
The ship hissed in the silence of the night; long flames adorned her once-spread sails, devouring the wood of the mainmast beneath their heat. The sound of its corrosion echoed like the lament of a wounded creature withdrawing into the deepest waters as it neared its end. The pirate watched his treasure crumble before his very eyes.
The sea was his home, his realm; he had ridden those waves far and wide, guided by the stars, accompanied by the lights of dawn, driven by tempests and yet no enemy had ever strayed him from his course. There was no shore or flag he feared, no ship that could rival his, no land he wished to touch or conquer, for he already possessed all that fulfilled his desire for freedom - the entire sea and now he felt robbed of his right, utterly overwhelmed by his downfall. He had been born cradled by those waters, and he would die in their embrace.
His wounded body fell into the abyss with a dull thud, piercing the surface like a bullet at full speed. He sank into its depths, leaving behind a crimson trail that stained its blue shades. The moon’s rays filtered through the water, illuminating his worn figure and showing him, as the last thing he would see, the reflection of his ruined ship. He felt weary, numb; the biting cold of the ocean slowly pulled him into a vortex of agony, and unable to bear the pain any longer, the pirate let go, parting his lips to let the icy water flood his lungs and drag him down to the seabed. A few bubbles brushed against his face, and when he finally closed his eyes, ready to be forgotten in the oblivion of that vastness, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and carry him away.
Suddenly, that cold was replaced by a comforting warmth, and with a gentle touch, his body was lifted out of the water. The creature laid him carefully upon a rock and pressed an ear to his chest, searching for a faint sign of life within that frozen body. When he heard his heart beating, weak, yet steady, he lifted his head with a sigh and looked silently at the human beneath him. His face, already pale, seemed peaceful in a deep sleep, bathed in moonlight and framed by long, chocolate-colored strands of hair. He wondered whether he should awaken him and return him to that harsh, painful reality, but after long contemplation, the siren slowly leaned closer, bringing his face near the pirate’s. His golden eyes shimmered under the stars, uncertain for a fleeting moment, while his breath brushed against the man’s skin, still glistening with the sea’s salty drops, and when his lips finally touched the other's, the creature felt a profound connection intertwine their soul like the roots of a tree entwining deep within the core of the earth.
He blew air into his lungs, gently holding his body in his hands, in an attempt to return oxygen and help him breathe on his own. He pulled back shortly after, watching his purplish lips regain a hint of color. A strong smell of iron flooded his senses as he stepped away, noticing his white garment stain with red. The water had washed away the blood that had just moments before clotted on his side, and now it flowed freely along his body again. He slid a hand over the wound and pressed on its surface, trying to alleviate the bleeding before making a second attempt at mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, this time more intense than the previous one. The boy beneath him finally regained consciousness and abruptly turned to the side to expel water from his body, convulsively coughing onto his side. He took a deep breath, placing a hand on his aching chest, and pushed himself up, leaning on the rock with his elbows before focusing and recognizing the figure in front of him.
“You…you’re a siren!” he exclaimed in alarm, retreating and pulling a dagger from his belt to point it at the creature, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through his side.
“What am I doing here? What did you do to me?” he demanded, trembling with fear, feeling weak and defenseless, a perfect prey for such demonic beings.
“You’re hurt,” he replied simply, his voice enchanting, a true caress to the pirate’s ears, who, still dazed and bewildered, shook his head in disbelief.
"Your ship was attacked," explained the siren, showing him the scene behind him, where a burning galleon lay among the sea’s waves, silent, lost, like a wanderer in a foreign land, awakening in him the memory of the battle fought before his defeat. He tried to stand, intending to reach it by swimming if that was what it took to save it, but his weary body refused to obey, holding him fast to that rock in the company of his natural enemy, forcing him to surrender to the idea of watching helplessly as his treasure sank into the most remote of abysses.
"Don’t strain yourself, the wound is deep, you’ve lost a lot of blood," warned the mermaid from afar.
The pirate silently gazed at the creature, captivated by his beauty: a long tail beat against the rocks, carried by the waves; violet scales set into the glossy surface of his skin looked like shards of amethyst, reflecting the dawn beneath the moonlight. Silver strands adorned his long gray hair, which, wet, fell over his delicate face, veiling its details. A chain of stones graced his neck, resting gracefully upon his bare chest, and his pale skin glowed beneath the stars, giving him an exquisitely enchanting aura.
“Stay away from me…” he warned, breathing heavily. “You only want to take my soul,” cursed the man, brandishing his blade into the void.
"I saved your life," he replied, silencing the bandit. "And if you keep struggling like that, you’ll make my act of mercy worthless," he said before sliding down the rock and diving beneath the water. The pirate’s eyes widened as he leaned over the edge to follow his figure, which swiftly disappeared into the darkness. He sat back down, disoriented, glancing around as he clung to the stone beneath him as if it were his only lifeline. His body trembled, vulnerable and cold beneath his soaked garments, his blood the only source of warmth left to him. He pressed a hand to his wound, eyes tightening in pain, before unbuttoning his shirt one clasp at a time to assess the damage. The wind brushed against his damp skin, making him shiver.
"I brought some bandages," announced the siren suddenly as he resurfaced, holding several strands of seaweed in his hands. "What’s wrong? Did you think I’d left?" he asked, noticing the man’s perplexed expression while pulling himself up the rock with his arms. The pirate drew back again, hastily reaching for the blade lying at the edge beside him.
"What do you want from me? Why are you trying to help me?" he asked, confused, his voice weak, his vision blurred.
"I...I don’t know," the creature admitted hesitantly, sliding closer to the human. "But I have no intention of hurting you," he reassured him with a gentle whisper.
"Creatures like you don’t spare any human, let alone save one from certain death," the young man accused, lifting his eyes to the sky.
"And yet here you are, before me and not at the bottom of the sea," the other retorted once more.
The pirate parted his lips as if to reply, but finding no words in his defense, he chose silence instead.
"If I had wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be talking right now," the siren continued, drawing dangerously close to his body. "So put it away, there’s no need for it," he asked with a sigh.
"How do I know you won’t cast a spell on me?" he demanded. The siren looked at him for a long moment; his golden eyes studied his figure intently, recognizing in it both fear and distrust. He leaned in until he was only a few inches away, feeling the blade of the pirate’s dagger graze the pale skin of his neck.
"Don’t you know that sirens must learn the name of their victim before they can claim their soul?" He whispered softly, reaching a hand toward the other's face. Motionless, the pirate allowed the creature to touch him; he brushed the back of his fingers gently against the boy's cold cheek, sharing the warmth of his body, while his other hand slowly guided the dagger down. "I can’t harm you until I’ve won your heart," he hissed this time near his ear, making him freeze in place.
Not a single movement came from the corsair, who, entranced by his words, remained spellbound, staring at the creature before him. Minho, that was his name. His features were as gentle as they were sharp, and his voice sounded like a melody to the pirate’s ears, a memory of the wind skimming across a ship’s sails. Minho pushed aside the man’s open shirt to examine his wound and bit his lip in concentration. He untied the bundle of seaweed he had gathered from the depths and placed one of the larger leaves over the injury, covering it completely. Then, with great care, he began to wrap the vines around the pirate’s torso, making sure not to move him too suddenly or awaken him from his dazed state, but the pirate seemed to resist his magic, regaining his senses as soon as a sharp pang of pain coursed through his body.
"What are you—" he stammered, startled, but the creature seized both his wrists with one hand and shot him a fierce glare.
"I’m almost done. Don’t move," he commanded, his voice low, his eyes focused.
"But when did you—" he blinked in confusion, feeling his breath falter. He was exhausted, so much so that he could no longer resist the creature’s will, allowing himself to be guided, subdued. He groaned in pain as the siren tightened the bandages around his side, his back arching as he broke free from his grip, seeking instead his arm as an anchor for his torment. Minho watched the human writhe beneath his touch and half-closed his eyes, as if to escape that suffering. His hands were stained with the man’s blood, his lips tinged with his spirit.
He retreated once more into the water, his safe place, this time to brood over his actions. He himself did not know why he had saved him, why he had felt that powerful pull the moment he had crossed the surface of the ocean. His body had moved on its own, traveling leagues just to reach him before his heartbeat faded away. He brushed his lips with his fingers, the ghost of a kiss lingered there, pale and forbidden, destined to remain secret. When he surfaced again a short while later, he found the pirate slumped in the same position as before, utterly spent.
"You can’t stay here," he hissed softly, almost as if speaking to himself. "I’ll take you back to shore."
Too exhausted to argue, the young man allowed the creature to come closer. He had no other choice, either he would die by his hand or perish miserably in the middle of the sea, not that he minded spending his final moments in his homeland. The siren gently wrapped his arms around his body, holding him tightly against his chest as he dove into the water. His powerful tail moved, leaving ripples behind him as he began to swim toward the shore. He took the boy's hand and pulled him along, letting his body float effortlessly on the surface of the water.
The pirate did not utter a single word throughout the journey; had his crewmates seen him in such a state, they would likely have branded him a traitor and exiled him to some island, if not killed him outright. Being aided by a siren was considered a disgrace among hunters like them, and he knew it well. Yet he let himself be carried in silence, savoring the gentle rocking of the waves that beneath him tickled his bare chest.
The moon illuminated the foamy trail behind them and made the siren’s shimmering skin gleam like a carpet of stars. Together, they reached the shore, and Minho pushed the man gently onto the sand, careful not to let his wound scrape against the rough surface.
"I can only help you this far, I can’t go beyond," he said, letting go of his grip while glancing around nervously, recognizing the distant shouts of surviving pirates calling out for their companions. The pirate looked at him intently, then struggled onto his knees, committing to memory the sight of the siren bathed in moonlight. He was beautiful.
"Why did you do it?" he asked, making the siren turn toward him. Minho shrugged, a faint smirk curling on his lips.
"Who knows," he replied simply before diving back into the water and vanishing from sight.
"Wait—"
"Jisung!" a voice called from afar, snapping the boy’s attention, and he hurried to button his shirt to hide the bandages on his body.
"I thought you were dead!" his companion reached him, helping him to stand. "You’re hurt…"
"Don’t worry, Changbin…" he reassured him. "It’s nothing…" he lied, leaning on his shoulder before gazing out at the horizon.
"Our ship…" the boy shook his head with a sigh.
"I know…" the other interrupted.
"Is there really nothing we can do to save it?" Jisung asked, watching the silhouette of the galleon slowly swallowed by the abyss.
"I don’t think so… the damage is pretty severe," came the reply.
Jisung remained silent, unsure of what else to say. He had spent half his life aboard that ship, fought battles against monsters and bandits on its decks, braved tides and storms, all to see it vanish into oblivion in mere moments.
The memory of his first galleon went back to his childhood, and from what he could recall, he had practically always belonged to that world, from birth, surrounded by the clamor of bandits and the sharp scent of alcohol, rocked by the waves of the sea. He had never known his parents, but he had never felt their absence, as the crew treated him like part of the family, one of their own.
As soon as he was old enough to understand, they taught him how to hoist the sails and secure the ropes before every departure, how to fasten the cannons so they wouldn’t move during navigation, and how to load them for any eventuality. Since his body was still frail and unable to lift such weights, he contented himself with absorbing the knowledge for when he would grow stronger, focusing instead on his duties, cleaning the deck, checking the helm, and preparing navigational tools such as compasses and maps.
His favorite task, however, was raising the pirate flag; each time he would cling to the ropes with all his strength, trying to keep his feet on the deck and not be dragged down by its weight, staring up at its imposing figure from below. He loved playing tricks on the crew, hiding their rum bottles in the most obscure corners of the ship, swapping their maps for false ones, and tampering with their compasses. He was a little genius, and everyone adored him for it.
There had been the time he meddled with the helm, steering them toward a remote island; he found it hilarious, until their lives were put at risk. From that moment, he learned his lesson and calmed down, limiting his pranks to small, harmless mischiefs. Later, he began learning the art of the sword as soon as he felt ready, spending entire nights training in order to surprise and impress his companions.
Then, at the age of fourteen, he was forced to abandon that ship when it was destroyed by a crew of deranged bandits. Many of them were captured and held prisoner in the holds, used as slaves or bargaining chips to earn a few extra coins. Jisung quickly learned how harsh life at sea could be, but it did not make him surrender, nor bend before his enemies. He fought until the very last second for his freedom and finally achieved it, escaping from that ship as soon as he turned sixteen.
It didn’t take him long to find a crew with whom to share his next adventure. His reputation preceded him, making it easy for him to fit in despite his young age. He had been to many ports, earning a living by repairing boats and navigational tools in no time. That was how he came into contact with the crew of the Sunset Emerald and how he became part of their crew. After helping them restore the ship properly, they offered him to stay, promising to use his talents as a key strength, and he accepted without hesitation.
He had fallen in love with that ship the moment he stepped aboard: elegant, silent, with wood that carried a pleasant scent, reminiscent of his first galleon. Its emerald-green flag, from which the crew took its name, soared proudly atop the sails, at times seeming to brush the clouds. Jisung loved that view, he loved that ship and now he was once again without a home. Yet his thoughts were entirely consumed by the creature that had saved him. He couldn’t stop thinking about him; his heart ached from the loss, but his mind refused to stay grounded, continuously reaching toward the horizon where the mermaid had vanished from sight without offering any explanation.
"Come on, we’re trying to gather all the survivors at the port," Changbin guided him, supporting his weight as they left the beach, Jisung’s gaze still fixed on the sea.
There were few mermaids that Jisung had encountered along his journey, and even more legends he had heard about them: creatures capable of enchanting humans, able to manipulate even the hearts of the bravest warriors, rendering them vulnerable, turning them into puppets under their will. They appeared beautiful and captivating, so much so that anyone who beheld them would be entranced, irresistibly drawn to them, much like a chest overflowing with gold. He himself had fallen victim to them multiple times, though he had usually emerged almost unharmed thanks to the help of his companions.
Yet the encounter with that siren had left something different inside him, something inexplicable, making him wonder if it was possible to be under their spell even from a distance. He had driven away several mermaids during his voyages, yet none matched his beauty. His golden eyes were gentle, a hint of melancholy staining those amber irises, and his long lashes seemed like silk curtains draped above them.
Jisung shook his head, trying to banish the image from his mind, convinced it was his curse. He brought a hand to his head and massaged his temples, exhausted.
But why save him and enchant him when he could so easily have devoured his soul while he was vulnerable? Why not simply let him drown? The memory of his arms wrapped around his body warmed his spirit, still trapped in the icy abyss. He hadn’t been conscious in that moment, yet his body seemed to hold onto that memory, etched into his skin. His hand slid unconsciously to his side, where the seaweed had been carefully pressed against his wound. The siren had wasted no time tending to him and bringing him ashore, and Jisung could not understand the nature of his actions.