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Chapter Text

Hongjoong

"The sea's a liar."

That's what I was always told. What I always believed. 7 years on the sea, and I still believe it. But it's beautiful. Unpredictable, strange, but... Beautiful.

If the sea were a person, it would be like the very person you think of when you hear the word 'perfect'. The one with those... Captivating eyes, and an air of grace around them that draws you in and never lets go. Ethereal. Perfect. Just...

"Captain?"

Kang Yeosang, our navigator. Soft-spoken, gentle. Doesn't belong on a pirate ship, much more suited to a castle, but I wouldn't trade him for the world.

"Captain!"

Jung Wooyoung. Chef. Not so gentle.

"Yes?" I turn to Yeosang.

"We're approaching new waters. There's nothing in any scriptures about this area. We could be at risk."

See, I adore Yeosang, but he relies solely on the scriptures. Not in the scriptures, doesn't exist.

"Are you sure? We've explored uncharted waters before, we've always been fine."

"But Captain, I'm really not sure-"

Wooyoung steps forward and shoves Yeosang on the shoulder.

"Oh come on, Yeosang, you scared?"

"No, I'm just healthily concerned about-"

"We'll be okay, Yeosang." I smile.

"And if we're not... We'll go back at the first sign of danger. Okay?"

Yeosang exhales and nods, eyes down, but keeping his chin up. He's pretending to be okay with it. He's not. But he knows he'd be overruled anyway.

My crew don't tend to think before going into things. I can't say I always do, either, but I'm better than the crew.

"Right, then. Mingi, we continue as before."

Mingi sets us back on course, and the ship falls silent as the crew return to their duties. Wooyoung goes back to the kitchen, San resumes sharpening blades, and Jongho... God knows where he is.

As I turn back to the sea, a mist settles over the ship. The air takes on a chill, and shadows move in ways I didn't think possible. It's... Unsettling, but not dangerous. And besides, I can't bring myself admit Yeosang was right.

He's not. Yet.

Looking out on the water, however, I feel calm. There's a serenity in the depths that pushes away the feelings of uncertainty. A stillness, a-

I swear I saw something move. Really. Just below the surface of the water, something-

"What the-!"

I jump away from the side as water splashes on my face. San looks up from his blades, and Yeosang's eyes flash with concern. He dashes to me.

"What?! Captain, what was-"

"It's okay, Yeosang. I just... Got startled. By a... Fish or something."

A flash in the water, and I'm splashed again. Drenched, more like.

"Oh my-" Yeosang grips my arm, eyes wide. "That's not a fish, Captain. It's not too late to turn back, let's just-"

"I'm afraid it is, Yeosang." The deep voice I know belongs to Mingi cuts through the fear like a knife.

"The wind's too strong now. We're sailing straight to the middle of this area. We have to let it take us out before trying to steer. All we'll do forcing ourselves to turn is put strain on the ship."

Jongho's head pops up from below deck. "And if you give me more work by damaging the ship, I will actually break your arm this time."

And he's gone, disappeared right after the threat. Classic Jongho. Yeosang, still shaken, grips my arm so tightly his knuckles turn white and I know he'll leave marks. His gaze lingers on the waves. As much as I think he's overreacting, I do worry for him.

"Yeosang, what is it, really? Why are you so concerned?"

He tears his eyes from the water and looks at me, his gaze piercing. "We don't know what's in the water, Captain. It could be dangerous."

"What's been dangerous so far? Nothing!"

"Something splashed you!"

"Yes, a fish!" Another, larger column of water hits me square in the face.

"Okay! Not a fish!"

A small spray of water comes up, but doesn't hit me. Odd. Definitely intentional, but I guess it's just the weird sea here.

"Hongjoong!"

"Captain." I remind him.

Yeosang looks... Wounded.

"Right... Captain. I don't like this. The sea here, it's all wrong. I told you we should never have-"

"Yeosang!" I snap, and he stops abruptly. "Calm down. Go below deck."

His face falls and he trudges below deck in silence. I don't like upsetting my crew, but sometimes, order is more important. I can't have him causing panic on the ship. Whether there's something to be worried about or not, panic will cause more harm than good.

"You're too harsh on him, Captain."

Yunho's gentle voice. First mate. He walks over to me slowly, placing a hand on the side of the ship beside me. The floorboards creak as he approaches.

"Yunho, I appreciate your concern, but-"

"But you dismiss his concerns? When has Yeosang ever been wrong before?"

"Never, but-"

"Then don't ignore him! Yeosang is a fine-"

"Jeong Yunho, when did I say you could question my choices? My crew, my decisions."

With a bitter scoff, Yunho turns on his heel and goes back to talk with Mingi. San, the only other one on deck, wisely keeps his mouth shut.

The mist descends further on the sea, and the chill on my skin is more than a little unsettling. I keep my eyes on the water, like maybe staring hard enough will make it confess its secrets. It never does. The sea’s not the type to be honest.

But gods, it’s beautiful. That infuriating kind of beautiful that makes you forgive it every time it tries to kill you. Smooth one moment, wild the next. Like it’s daring you to get comfortable so it can knock you off your feet.

I’ve learned to stop trusting it. I’ve also learned I can’t stop looking at it.

A bright bell snaps me from my thoughts. Wooyoung pops up from below deck, calling us for dinner. I send them down, but I won't join them tonight. Something's calling me to stay out. San gives me a concerned look before heading below.

The deck’s quiet now. Below, I can hear the faint clatter of cutlery and Wooyoung’s voice carrying through the boards - probably arguing with Jongho over portion sizes again.

Up here, it’s just me, the wheel creaking, and the sea breathing. The mist’s thicker than before, curling low around the railings like it’s trying to climb aboard. Every so often, the wood groans, but it’s not from the ship, it’s the kind of sound that feels like it’s coming from underneath.

I lean on the railing. The water’s dark enough to be a mirror, if the mirror didn’t shift and ripple like it was alive. Something flickers under the surface. Not fast. Not darting like a fish. Just… gliding. The air smells different all of a sudden. Less salty, more… sweet?

No, that’s not right. Something that makes you want to breathe deeper without knowing why.

"A faint mirage..." A soft whisper.

"Dreamer in a dream..." A ripple.

"A sea of fear..." A face.

"...and joy."

A beautiful face. Emerging from the waves, droplets clinging to his skin. There's a shimmer to his skin, a shine to his hair. Such deep eyes, divinely sculpted features. And... Gills. On his neck, and his hips.

Siren.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa 

The water is quiet tonight. Not calm. Never calm. But quiet in the way that means something's coming.

I drift through the dark, the weightless pull of the current brushing over my skin. The world here is softer than it is above. No gulls. No shouting. Just the groan of the deep, the whisper of sand shifting far below.

And then I hear it. The low hum of a hull cutting through water. Heavy. Slow. A disturbance.

I taste it before I see it - oil, metal, and the faint tang of sweat. Sailors. Pirates. They move like they own the surface, carving through my home without thought, their anchors dragging scars into the sea bed.

It’s larger than most I’ve seen lately. Well-armed, from the look of it. Which means there’s plenty of men aboard.

Plenty to drown.

One man leans over the side and looks down, looking at me... But not seeing me. They never do.

I've had no excitement for a while. I might play with him a bit. I twist a column of water up to him, soaking his no doubt expensive shirt. He shouts and steps back. Amusing tiny human.

One of his crew members, I suppose, rushes to him. I like this human. He seems clever. Sensible enough to know they shouldn't be here. But the reckless small one doesn't believe him.

 "A fish, or something..."

A fish?! Ignorant human!

I splash him again. I will not tolerate such disrespect.

The sensible human tells the tiny one again to turn back, but tall deep voice human knows they cannot. 

My fault, of course. I can't have my new playthings running away, now, can I? They're too much fun for that.  

Tiny human is called Hongjoong? I prefer tiny human.

Tiny human shouts at sensible human, calls it Yeosang. I like that one. Yeosang goes away.

I appreciate discipline, I always did, but tiny human is wrong. Even when new tall human tells it something, he shouts. Calls new tall human Yunho. Yunho leaves him.

Tiny human is foolish, like trusting the tide. Sea is fickle. Tiny human is reckless. 

Calls me a fish again. I've decided I really do not like this human. But he is cute. Small. I suppose he is quite attractive. For a human.

And he intrigues me. There's something in his gaze, something I can't place. He hides it under his shouting, but he seems to care for his crew. 

And these waters are dangerous. Why, I'm here. But more than that. Ship wrecked on the sea floor, storms so fierce a royal navy ship could not survive.

Tiny human looks out on the sea as the mist swirls around him. The moon shines through the water and shimmers on my tail. I can make myself known.

I rise slowly to the surface.

"A faint mirage..." I whisper.

Tiny human jumps and looks down.

"Dreamer in a dream..." I break the surface.

 Tiny human stares.

"A sea of fear..."

I lock eyes with him, and I pause. There's so much emotion in his eyes. Deeper than any other.

"...and joy."

The night air is cool on my skin as I look up at the tiny human. He stares, in shock, awe perhaps? He's cuter up close. Curious. And he can't stop staring!

"Lost for words, hm?"

He stutters and attempts to form words, but falls short every time. If he weren't a human, it would be adorable.

"You should listen to your crew, you know. Yeosang is right. These waters are not safe."

"And how do you know Yeosang, then? Did he put you up to this?"

I give him a withering look.

"I don't take orders from humans. And I heard his name. From your lips, in fact."

He scoffs and leans over further, "What's so dangerous about a large fish?"

Tiny human is really getting on my last nerve. You don't insult sirens. Everyone from Sandeoki to Hetmongi knows that. 

"You're just asking for trouble, tiny human."

"Tiny-" he seethes, "You call Yeosang by his name, but not me?!"

"Tiny human suits you better."

I disappear below the water. I've had enough of him. 

He throws a stone down into the water with a yell, and I see him turn away. I grab the stone and throw it back, striking him in the back of the head. Foolish human.

I don't often entertain the curious humans, though by now they're normally in a touch more peril than they are at the moment. These ones have piqued my interest, that's all. But I won't be weak like this for long. They will drown.

Hongjoong

I can't believe that man- that siren. Not courteous whatsoever, but... Damn, he's attractive. He's everything I'd imagined the sea to be like. Something about him means I can't look away. Captivating. Maybe it's because he's a siren, but I think there's something more than that. 

"Captain?"

San sits on a barrel beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"You didn't come down for dinner, so I brought some up for you." He places a plate on my lap. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, I turn to face him, smiling softly. 

"Yeah. I'm alright."

"Yeosang's worried about you. I'm worried."

I look at San fondly. He's always been caring and soft towards me. When he's not teasing, that is.

"Thank you, but I'm okay. Just sitting out here calms my mind, I guess."

San stands up. 

"Well, make sure you get to bed soon. We're all heading down now."

Giving him a nod and a smile is all he seems to need, and he goes back below deck.

San’s footsteps fade into the cabin, and the door closes with a soft thud. The deck feels bigger without him here. Quieter, but not empty. Not anymore.

I lean back against the railing, staring out at the black stretch of water. It doesn’t look different than it did an hour ago, but it feels different. 

I can still see him in my mind, the siren. The way the moonlight hit the water around him, making it look like the sea itself was holding him up. Sharp lines softened by the waves, eyes that didn’t just look at me, they measured me.

I’ve met plenty of beautiful things at sea. Most of them have tried to kill me. But none of them ever made me forget to breathe.

I should go below deck, close my eyes, forget this ever happened. But my feet won’t move. I just… keep looking out, half-expecting him to be there again.

And gods help me, half-hoping.

Seonghwa 

He’s still there, leaning against the rail, staring out like he owns the horizon. Like the sea isn’t mine.

I should leave. Let the currents pull me somewhere quieter. But I don’t.

There’s something about him. Sharp, restless, stubborn in a way I recognize. His gaze doesn’t skim the water like the others’. He looks into it. Like he’s searching.

It’s infuriating. He’s a pirate, no better than the rest. Another scavenger cutting through my home, spilling oil into the tides, taking what isn’t his.

And yet… I find myself drifting closer. Just enough to catch the way the moonlight turns his hair to gold, just enough to watch the shadows shift across his face as he goes below deck.

Candlelight shines through the small porthole close to me. I drift closer, curious, and see that untidy mop of blonde coming into the room. In a panic, I sink just below the window, out of sight. When I peek back through, he's lying on his bed, staring at the flickering candlelight, hair splayed on the silk of the pillow. He looks at peace. 

I wonder how long I could pull him under before the light leaves his eyes.

I wonder why I haven’t already tried.

Hongjoong

I slip between the silky sheets, watching the candle flame flicker to and fro. Every movement reminds me of the graceful ones of the siren. I don't know his name. Maybe he'll take mine, someday. 

Don't be silly, Hongjoong. You've talked to him once, he seems to hate you, and he's... Well... A siren.

But I bet his name is something as beautiful as he is. Delicate. Poetic. Like his voice, soft and melodic. I don't think he'll tell me his name any time soon.

The sheets are cool on my skin as I wriggle further in, sighing deeply. I've been in love before. General Ten. Navy man. Straight-backed, sharp-eyed, every inch the image of duty. Should have sunk my ship the first time we crossed paths. But he didn’t. He spared us. More than once.

I used to tell myself it was luck. That he had orders, or that he didn’t see us as a threat. But I knew better. The way he’d look at me across the water, no cannon fire, no shouts, just a nod.

I never said anything. Of course I didn’t. What was I going to do? Call across the waves, confess like some fool? But I thought… maybe someday.

And then one day, a letter found its way to my cabin. Ten confessed his love. And then he was gone. I never saw him or his ship again. Must have moved on to different waters.

But enough of the past. That was many years ago. Now the only man on my mind is that siren.

I'm not in love! I'm just... Intrigued. And his eyes... Gods, his eyes...

What was it he said? Something about dreams... Illusion- no, mirage. Dream... Dreamer...?

Seonghwa

Leaving the small window is harder than I expected, having no reason to stay.

I circle once beneath the hull, fingers brushing the barnacles clinging to its underside. A slow crack runs along the wood where storms have punished it before. Fragile thing. I could pull it apart if I wanted.

But my eyes go back to him - the captain. He lies still in his bed, sheets clutched in his fingers. 

I must be there for hours, just circling the ship, until the sunlight dapples the surface of the water.

A flicker of movement breaks the calm. Not from the pirate. From below.

I twist in alarm, and the dark opens to something wider, rougher. Ropes? Thinner than that, I know it's-

It's all around me, cutting and binding. Thin, but stronger than it looks, like a vice around my tail. I want to slash it, I know I could, but my arms are bound to my chest. I can't escape this.

Chapter Text

Hongjoong

Shouts from on deck wake me from my blissful dreams. I should hurry. Clothes pulled on in a rush, shirt sticking slightly to damp skin as it’s dragged over shoulders. Sleeves rolled without care, boots half-laced, coat thrown over one arm. Buckles fastened just tight enough to hold, hair shoved back and left untamed. It will do. A captain doesn’t keep the crew waiting.

Rushing out on deck, all eyes are on the fishing nets. Hushed whispers ripple like waves through the crew. My steel-toed boots tap on the deck, and my crew part to let me through.

I stop as the catch comes into view.

It’s the siren.

His tail shimmers in the half-light as he thrashes in the net, distressed. He’s still so stunning like this, wet hair framing his face, eyes shining with tears. His gills pulse, trying to take in oxygen I know he can’t get. I look him up and down, his torso sculpted, glistening with sweat. Small cuts cover his body, no doubt from struggling in the net.

My lips curve into a smirk as I walk towards him, slowly. I reach out and caress his cheek, and he hisses at my touch.

"Hongjoong, what are you doing?!" Yeosang shouts at me. "Can we let him go?"

"Why should we? Is this not the catch of the century?"

My crew stare at me, dumbfounded.

"What the fuck, Hongjoong?! He’s a siren, not a— not a pet!"

The siren thrashes again, the net swinging dangerously over the waves. His chest rises and falls in short, frantic bursts, gills along his neck fluttering uselessly against the air. His hands claw his own skin, nails scraping it raw, but the net only tightens.

“Captain, look at him!” Yeosang’s voice breaks, higher than usual, urgent. “He can’t breathe! If you keep him out like this, you’ll kill him!”

My eyes remain on the cold blue ones of the siren.

“Beautiful monster.”

The siren’s eyes flash, wide and furious. He bares his teeth, his body jerking against the ropes. The gills at his hips flare desperately, gasping at air that won’t feed him. His tail slams once, spraying seawater across the deck, and the men closest to him stumble back.

A muttered curse slips from San. “He’s dying, Captain.”

“Let him go,” Wooyoung says, jaw tight. “Even a siren deserves breath.”

“Shut your mouths,” I snap, though my gaze doesn’t leave the siren.

Jongho stands rigid, arms crossed. His eyes don’t leave me, but I feel the weight of judgment behind them.

Yeosang rushes forward, grabbing my arm. “Captain, please, look at him! You’re torturing him!”

I shrug him off, but the desperation clings to me like salt in the air. For a moment, I watch the siren’s body straining, every line of him trembling with fury and fear. He still looks beautiful like this, untouchably so, even when bound, even when dying.

He spits at me, saltwater and blood mixed. His lips curl back over sharp teeth, but the sound that escapes is nothing more than a wet, choking hiss.

The crew shift uneasily, waiting. Mingi mutters something about omens, about how a siren’s curse follows the man who harms him. His words hang in the air like smoke.

The siren’s eyes blaze. For the first time, there’s no intrigue in them, just raw, furious hatred.

“Captain! If you won’t release him, then at least lower him to the water! Please, he can’t breathe!” Yeosang shouts again, voice cracking.

Seonghwa blinks, startled by the urgency in Yeosang’s tone. He doesn’t expect it, the human pleading for his life.

But I won’t see him if I do that. My eyes rake over his figure again, captivated beyond anywhere my common sense should allow.

“CAPTAIN!” Yeosang shouts.

I barely hear him.

“Fuck this— Jongho, give me your knife.”

“What?”

“JONGHO, JUST GIVE ME THE KNIFE!”

A small object whips past my ear, into Yeosang’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but sometimes orders must be disobeyed, to be human.”

I hardly see Yeosang move before he’s beside me, and with a swipe of his arm, the net is slit, and the siren tumbles into the sea.

In an instant, he’s gone, tail flashing once in the hazy light before vanishing beneath the black water. Spray hits my face, cold and stinging.

I grip the railing so hard my knuckles turn white, eyes locked on the waves below. Nothing. No shimmer of scales. No trace of him at all. Just dark, endless water.

“You overstepped, Yeosang.” My voice is low, sharp. A warning.

“I saved a life.” His reply is steady, though his hands shake as he grips the knife handle. “And I’d do it again.”

The crew exchange uneasy glances, shuffling on their feet. San mutters about the captain losing his mind. Wooyoung spits over the side, muttering something too quiet to catch. Mingi’s still pale, fingers twitching at his belt. Yunho hovers between them, restless, his jaw tight like he wants to speak but doesn’t dare.

I drag my gaze away from the waves, turning on him. “You dare defy me in front of my crew?”

Yeosang meets my eyes, trembling but unyielding. “If it means stopping you from becoming a monster, then yes, Captain. I do.”

Monster?

Seonghwa

Salt stings in my cuts as I fall into the sea, thin red ribbons running through the water. I disappear as soon as I can, thoroughly humiliated at the vulnerability I showed in that net. Seven pairs of eyes on me, watching the whole encounter. I’ve never been so ashamed.

The tip of my tail brushes the sandy seabed, as I let myself sink lower. Perhaps the darkness beneath the waves will hide my shame.

The tiny captain called me beautiful.

Beautiful monster.

He’s right of course. I am beautiful. And monster? Well, yes. I drown sailors for fun.

That name makes me prouder than I’d like to admit.

And yes, I am a conceited, prideful creature, but at least I’m self-aware. That captain couldn’t see how far he was stepping out of line. Only saw me.

That boy, Yeosang. He stood up to his captain to save my life. His eyes contained that fire that cannot be stamped out by authority, that burns for the sake of humanity. And I admire that in a person. Having the courage to speak for what you believe to be right, against a figure of power. It’s not something many people dare to face.

But he did.

To that boy, I owe not only my dignity, but my life. I won’t forget what he did for as long as I live. He’s a good man, a kind one too. Not like his captain.

The tiny one confuses me greatly. First, he snaps at his own crew, then is simply entranced by me, almost gentle. And then… whatever that was.

The way his eyes devoured me even as I choked for air. The way he smiled while I thrashed like some pathetic caught fish. His hand on my cheek, soft and cruel at once.

I drift lower, the water cool and heavy, pressing in from all sides. My chest still burns, lungs screaming from air they were never meant to hold. I cough, the sound bubbling in the water, black spots fading slowly from my vision.

The taste of the air lingers still, foul and scorching. Every breath up there felt like knives tearing through me. Even now, I can feel it, phantom pain in my ribs. My body remembers what nearly killed it.

I push myself further from the surface, tail flicking with more strength as I force water through my gills, cleansing my body of the poison of air. The ache lingers. My muscles twitch in protest. But with every beat of my tail, every drag of water past my gills, the fire in my chest dims.

I pause in the shadows, floating. Fish scatter at my presence, shimmering silver flashes darting into the reef. My reflection wavers faintly in a scale below me. A mess— hair tangled, chest scratched and marked, pride shattered. I look away.

My tail flicks angrily, stirring up the sand. I should be grateful just to be alive, but fury burns hotter than gratitude.

Above, the faint outline of the ship moves across the surface, shadowed by light. I could follow, trail them through the waves, watch them panic at every ripple. I imagine the little captain standing at the railing still, his knuckles white, straining to see me. I should let him suffer that uncertainty.

But I don’t. Not yet.

I hate that he saw me like that. Weak. Helpless.

And yet…

My lips twist into something between a snarl and a smile. He looked at me as though he could never look away.

He will see me again. And next time, it will not be me struggling for breath.

Chapter Text

Hongjoong

The deck is too quiet.

No one dares speak after the splash, after the shimmer of scales vanished into the black water. The sea closes over him like nothing ever happened, but the silence left behind is louder than cannon fire.

Yeosang still grips the knife, knuckles white, chest heaving. The crew won’t look at me. They shuffle, mutter, glance between me and him as though they’re choosing sides.

“Back to your posts,” I snarl, my voice low, sharp enough to cut through the air. “Now.”

San mutters something under his breath, too low for me to catch. Wooyoung spits on the deck, eyes narrowed. Mingi doesn’t move at all, as if frozen, but his lips twitch like he’s whispering prayers to himself. Yunho gives Yeosang a subtle nod.

And Jongho... Jongho stares straight through me, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. That silent judgment stings more than words.

Boots scrape reluctantly across the wood. The crew drift back to their duties, though no one dares turn their back fully on me. They don’t trust me. Not right now.

Yeosang doesn’t move.

I step closer, “He disobeyed a direct order. I hope none of you will–"

He lifts his chin, eyes blazing. “I saved your conscience.”

The wind whips salt into my face. My fists clench, nails digging crescents into my palms. “You don’t speak for my conscience.”

“You would’ve let him die.” His voice cracks, but it’s firm, steady enough to carry. “Just because you were… what, enchanted by him?”

The word burns. Enchanted.

The crew turn their heads to us.

“You’re lucky I don’t have you whipped for insubordination.”

“I’d take the lashes,” he says, stepping forward until we’re almost nose to nose, “before I let you become the kind of captain who tortures for pleasure.”

The air stills. The crew hold their breath.

I want to strike him, make him remember who commands this ship. But I mustn't. Not when the rest of the crew could see. They shouldn't have to fear me.

So I turn sharply, coat billowing behind me, and stalk towards my cabin. My boots hit hard against the deck, steel toes tapping harshly.

“Well done, Yeosang.” Yunho mutters, quiet respect in his voice. “Well done.”

The door slams behind me harder than I intend it to, rattling in its frame, threatening to fall from its hinges.

I pace back and forth, boots tapping against the floorboards, brow furrowed. My hands won’t unclench. Fingernails bite deeper into my palms until I feel the sting of broken skin, blood welling around my fingertips.

Enchanted.

The word gnaws at me. Yeosang’s voice saying it, accusing, ringing over and over.

Enchanted by a creature. By that siren.

I drag a hand across my face, pressing my fingers into my temples as though I could claw the memory away, of his body thrashing in the net, the way the ropes cut into his skin, the way his chest heaved for air. The shine of his scales in the weak light. The fury in his eyes, icy.

Beautiful monster.

My words. My voice.

I had touched him. Softly. Like he was mine to touch. And he had hissed, spit blood and salt at me, eyes burning with hatred so pure it hurt me.

I sink into the chair at my desk, elbows slamming down onto the wood. My head drops into my hands. For the first time in years, my crew had looked at me as though I were not their captain but a danger to them. Their silence screamed louder than words.

And Yeosang...

Damn him. Damn his fire, damn his eyes, damn his shaking hands that still managed to slice the net clean.

If the crew whispers tonight, it won’t be about the sea, or curses, or omens. It’ll be about me. About whether their captain has gone mad. About whether I’m fit to lead them.

I slam my fist onto the desk, the wood creaking under the hit. Maps scatter, a compass rattles, a pencil falls to the floor, rolling into the shadows.

The siren should’ve been here. Should’ve been mine to keep, to study, to have. To understand. Instead he slipped away, vanishing into the black like he’d never been.

And yet, I can still feel his skin beneath my hand. Still see the sharpness of his teeth. Still hear that guttural hiss clawing at the back of my skull.

He’s not gone. Not really. I'll see him again.

Won’t I?

Seonghwa

I swim in the dark water, just far enough that the ship’s lanterns blur to pale glows above me. The ache in my chest has dulled, but my pride burns hotter than ever. Every flick of my tail stings against the memory of ropes, of air scratching at my throat, of hands on my skin.

Beautiful monster.

His voice. That captain, small in stature but so big in presence. His words haunt me more than I care to admit.

The monster part I will wear proudly. But the beautiful part... he shouldn’t have said it like that. Not when my body trembled, not when I could barely breathe. That was not beauty. That was humiliation.

So I circle his ship. A shadow beneath the hull, keeping pace with its steady crawl over the waves. I picture the crew above, afraid, avoiding me in their whispers. They know I could drag them under if I chose. And perhaps I should. Just to prove I am no fragile thing to be pitied.

The thought tempts me. My voice rises in my throat, that sweet lure that has sent so many sailors stumbling into the waves. I imagine Yunho... or Wooyoung leaning too far over the railing, eyes glassy, bodies toppling into my arms. And down. Down, down, down... I could do it. Just one, just enough to remind them what I am.

But not Yeosang. I just... couldn’t.

But then another image pushes forward. The captain.

Hongjoong.

I picture him at the railing, hair ruffled by the wind, eyes sharp and restless. What if I sang for him? Just a note, barely more than a whisper, but enough to make his chest tighten, enough to drag him step by step towards the edge. My pulse races with the thought. His boots on the rail. His body tilting forward. His breath hitching before the fall.

I press my lips together until they hurt, willing the thought away.

No. Not him.

Yeosang needs him.

No, no he doesn’t. He’s cruel to him, he doesn’t understand.

My tail flicks, stirring the black water around me. I rise closer to the surface, shadows shifting, until I’m just beneath the sheen of moonlight on the waves.

And there he is.

Above me, Hongjoong stands at the railing. His figure cut sharp against the lantern glow, head bowed, fists gripping the wood. His knuckles are white even from here. His gaze fixed, unblinking, on the sea. On me. Though he cannot see.

We stare at the same patch of water, unaware of each other’s eyes. His breath mists in the air above; mine bubbles faintly in the water below. A mirror. Two predators locked on a reflection neither can touch.

My chest tightens — not with pain, but something else I do not name.

I cannot sing. Not to him.

But...

Hongjoong

The ship rocks uneasily in the night.

It isn’t the waves. It’s something else. The timbers creak louder than they should, the sails strain even in still air. The crew shift restlessly in their hammocks, caught between waking and sleep.

I lie awake in my cabin, boots still on, coat tossed across the chair. Tonight the air feels heavier. Damp.

Muffled voices stir on the lower deck. Not words, exactly, but whispers. Some men mutter in their sleep. Others sob. One cries out, thrashing, dreaming of drowning. The sea has followed them into their dreams.

I throw open my cabin door and catch the shape of Wooyoung, sleep-drunk, eyes half-shut, drifting toward the rail. Yunho trails after him, caught in the same spell, lips parted, faces slack.

“Stop.” My voice cracks with fear.

They don’t.

“Wooyoung!”

The sound that threads through the air isn’t song exactly. It’s softer, a hum, low, carried on the wind. Even I feel the tug, the brief flicker in my chest to follow it, to lean closer to the edge.

“STOP!”

My hand grips Wooyoung’s shoulder, yanking him back hard. He stumbles, shaking his head like he’s waking from a dream. Yunho snaps, too, and gasps, clutching the railing, confusion flooding his eyes.

The hum cuts off. The deck falls silent but for their ragged breaths.

“It was him.” Wooyoung’s voice is hoarse. “The siren... he was calling–”

“No.” My tone is flat. “It was nothing but the sea. Your minds are fogged with fear.”

But inside, I know. I know exactly what it was.

And then, Jongho. Arms crossed, jaw set, eyes heavy with disapproval.

“Captain.”

I turn.

“You’re losing them,” he says finally, low but steady. “They don’t trust you after this morning. After the net. You know it. I know it.”

My fists clench. “Watch your tongue.”

“I’ll keep my tongue, but keep your crew, Captain. Before the siren takes them.”

I dismiss them all eventually. Force order back into chaos. But when the deck clears, I remain. Alone under the moonlight, staring into the black waves.

A streak, faint but sharp, gliding just beneath the surface. The flicker of scales, too fast to be chance. My breath hitches, hands gripping the railing until my knuckles ache.

He’s there. I feel him. Watching me.

I whisper it before I can stop myself.

“Siren. Show yourself.”

The sea answers.

A voice curls up from the depths, sweet and sharp, carried on the hum that has plagued us for nights. A whisper that chills my spine even as heat rushes my skin.

“Careful what you wish for, Captain.”

The words are not shouted, not screamed, but I hear them as clear as if he breathed them against my ear.

The ship lurches. Hard.

The deck tilts, barrels rolling, ropes snapping taut. A cry echoes from below as hammocks swing violently.

I grab the railing, heart hammering. The sea itself seems to rear up under us, as though hands made of water press against the hull.

And then, just for me, he breaks the surface.

The siren’s head rises from the black water, dark hair plastered to his face, eyes blazing. His tail lashes once, and the whole ship rocks like a bath toy.

The force rips me from the railing.

For a split second, the moon catches his face, before cold water swallows me whole.

Seonghwa

Salt floods my mouth as the captain plunges into the dark.

I catch him easily. Arms lock tight around him as the sea closes overhead, his body thrashing against mine. His eyes blaze even here, refusing to dim.

He kicks, claws at my shoulders, boots striking against my tail. His hat is gone, hair loose in the current, fanning around his face like a halo. The bubbles rip from his mouth in desperate bursts, silver trails rushing to the surface.

So small. So stubborn. So mine.

He tries to wrench free, nails dragging across my arm, leaving thin streaks of blood that dissolve into the sea. Futile. Every movement only tangles him deeper into the terror. I know this water, every pull, every current. He knows only air, and it abandons him fast.

His chest heaves, throat convulsing. His eyes flash with rage, but beneath it, panic. Mortal panic. The body’s refusal to die.

I tighten my grip, coiling around him. My tail sweeps once, dragging us lower, deeper, away from the ship’s glow. His fists hammer against my chest, weak already, the blows scattering like shadows through the waves.

I could let him go. Let him sink. Let the darkness eat him whole until his lungs fill with salt and water.

I pull him closer instead, so close our foreheads nearly touch. His wide, furious eyes bore into mine. Even drowning, he defies me.

I press my lips to his ear, my voice soft, carrying even here, in the water that steals all other sounds.

“Now we’re even.”

I feel the shudder run through him. His body jerks once, sharp, as if the words themselves strike him deeper than the lack of air.

Not lifeless. Not yet. Just waiting. Waiting to see what I will do.

And gods, I like him better this way.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa

The captain thrashes in my arms, but the sea swallows sound, swallows air, swallows everything. His mouth is open, bubbles tearing free in frantic bursts, eyes wide, wild, locked on me with terror and rage in equal measure.

I drag him down.

The water is cold, merciless. It presses against his chest, squeezes his ribs until every breath he stole from the air above feels like a lie. His boots kick, heavy, useless in the drag of the current. His fists beat against me, weak already, each strike slowed by the crushing weight of the deep.

I do not let go.

He deserves this. The ropes around my throat, the nets biting my scales, the air scalding my lungs - he deserves to feel all of it, magnified. To feel the panic as the body betrays itself, as the chest convulses, as the last pockets of breath rise up in shimmering silver and vanish into the endless black.

I watch it happen. His jaw clenches. His body jerks, fighting the inevitable, every nerve screaming for oxygen. His hands claw at me now, not striking but pleading. Nails rake my shoulders, desperate, frantic.

The deeper I pull, the darker it grows. His lanterns fade. The pressure builds, pushing down on his chest. His eyes bulge, a film of red seeping across them as blood vessels snap.

His lips part.

The first rush of water floods him, forced into his mouth, into his throat. He convulses hard, body arching against mine, a silent scream breaking into a choke. His arms flail once, twice, then seize.

I feel the moment. That fragile point where fight becomes failing. Where defiance buckles under the weight of the sea.

His pupils widen, frantic. His gaze blurs, lashes trembling. The fire in his chest is snuffed, replaced with the dull glaze of a body preparing to die.

It should thrill me. It should feel like victory.

But my chest burns hotter than his.

Not from water. Not from lack of air. From something deeper, harsher, gnawing at my gut.

This is wrong.

I tighten my grip on him, shaking him as though I could will him to keep fighting. His head lolls. The frantic kicks slow. His lips are blue now.

I could let him go. It would be easy. Let him sink, let the sea finish what I began.

But Yeosang’s face blazes in my mind, fierce and desperate as he cut my bonds. Yeosang, the boy who stared at me like I was not just a monster, but something worth saving.

This man is his. His captain. His anchor. His torment.

I can’t take him.

Not for myself. Not like this.

My grip changes. My arm curls beneath his shoulders, my hand pressing to the back of his head, shielding him from the sea’s crush as best I can. His body is limp now, dead weight, but still warm. Still alive.

Barely.

I snarl, furious with myself, furious with him, furious with the burn in my chest that will not ease. My tail lashes, driving us upward in great sweeping arcs, muscles screaming as I force us toward the surface.

The ship’s glow sharpens above, the gold smear turning to lanterns, the creak of timbers filtering faintly through the water.

I clutch him tighter. His hair streams around his face, eyes closed now. No bubbles rise from his mouth. Nothing stirs in his chest.

“Don’t you dare,” I rasp. “Don’t you dare die before I get you back to Yeosang.”

The surface rushes closer, rippling silver.

One last surge of my tail, one last desperate heave. The sea parts around us, foam and spray exploding as I break through the surface, dragging the captain with me, lifeless and heavy in my arms.

Lantern-light lashes across me, blinding after the dark, and shouts rip down from the deck above.

“Captain!”

“Hongjoong!”

“Pull him up, gods, get him up!”

Their cries overlap, panicked, ragged.

The captain hangs limp in my arms, head tipped back, water streaming from his mouth. His chest does not rise. His lips are bluish-grey. His coat drags him down, heavy, but I refuse to let him sink. My grip on him is iron.

The ship looms above, its hull cutting black against the moon. Shapes crowd the rail, faces pale and frantic. Lanterns swing wildly, gold light breaking across the waves, catching the sheen of my tail as it slashes to keep me afloat.

“Yeosang!” It is San who shouts, voice raw, furious. “He’s not breathing!”

Yeosang leans so far over the rail I think he’ll fall. His face is chalk-white, eyes locked on me, not in fear, not in disgust, but in something desperate. Hope. Pleading. His knuckles grip the railing until his skin splits.

“Get him up here!” he screams, voice cracking. “Now! Don’t you dare let him-”

His words choke on themselves.

The others are in chaos: Wooyoung nearly vaults over the rail before Mingi catches his arm, dragging him back with brute strength. Yunho barks orders, trying to steady them, voice low and commanding. Jongho plants himself at the center, shoulders squared, gaze fixed on me with a calmness colder than steel. He sees me. Measures me.

And still Yeosang’s voice drowns them all out, hoarse and frantic.

“Please! Please!”

I rear back, tail curling, and fling the captain upward with all the force I can muster. His body arcs through the spray, limp, drenched, crashing against the hull before strong hands grab hold. They haul him over the rail, rolling him onto the deck like driftwood torn from the tide.

Yeosang is on his knees beside him instantly, pressing his hands to Hongjoong’s chest, shouting for him to breathe. His face is wet, but whether with spray or tears, I cannot tell.

“Captain!” he gasps, pushing hard, again and again. “Breathe, damn you, breathe!”

The others crowd around, Wooyoung shoving in close, panic etched across his features, Mingi whispering half-prayers, half-curses, his huge hands shaking, San with fire in his eyes, snapping at anyone who hesitates, Yunho steady, commanding, counting the rhythm with Yeosang, and Jongho, still, watching, arms folded, gaze flicking from the captain to me.

I hover in the water below, arms folded tight across my chest. My gills flare on my neck, the ones along my hips letting me breathe. I will not leave until I know.

The captain coughs.

It is small at first, a twitch of the chest, a wet spasm. Then violent, water spews from his mouth, his body convulsing as breath claws its way back into him. His hands grasp at nothing, clawing the air, until at last a ragged, broken gasp splits the night.

Relief breaks across them in a wave. Wooyoung sobs. Mingi drops his head into his hands. San mutters thanks to gods he pretends not to believe in.

And Yeosang? Yeosang cradles his captain’s head in shaking hands, whispering words I cannot hear. His eyes shine like stars.

It makes me sick.

My chest twists, a strange, sour ache that burns worse than the rope ever did. I should leave. Sink back into the black where I belong. Away from them. But I linger, eyes locked on the boy and his captain, listening to the crew’s gasps and cries.

The captain lives.

Because of me.

Almost died.

Because of me.

And though the crew cling to him, though Yeosang looks at him like salvation itself, I know the truth that will never touch their lips:

I saved him.

Not them.

Not their prayers.

Me.

And why? I don't really know. For Yeosang, I suppose. Not for the Captain. For his crew.

Hongjoong

I awake with a cutting breath, burning, scraping at my throat, tearing my lungs apart. Bile and water sprays across the deck, salty and hot.

Strong arms haul me to a sitting position, then further, allowing all the water, like poison, out of my body.

“I told you, I wouldn't let you die first, Captain. So don't you fucking die on me.”

His voice, deep and warm, but edged with pain, fills my mind, bringing me to my senses. Yeosang. He holds me steady, firm but caring. His hands don't have the callouses I do. Softer.

“What—”

I'm cut off as I retch again, salt and acid burning in my throat. It's vile, but at least I know this is real.

“Shhh…” Yeosang rubs my back. “Just take a minute.”

A minute? I don't have a minute! The siren, that beautiful siren... He could hurt them too, what if...

“Captain, stop. We're not going to get hurt. I know what you're thinking.” Yeosang's voice leaves no room for argument.

“San, give me a hand here.”

Yeosang and San's strong arms encircle me, and help me to my feet. I mindlessly find myself walking across the deck, and my eyes drift...

To him.

The siren stares at me, cold eyes... Softer. Not the hostility I saw before, something raw, something... Almost like remorse.

But that's silly. It's nothing.

“Come on, almost there.”

I suddenly break from their grip and run to the side, locking eyes with him once more before I lean over and vomit over the side. He leaps back into the water with one last fleeting glance, and then he's gone.

“Alright, okay, let's get you inside. It's okay.” San's gentle voice, for once, does little to soothe the burning in my chest. A flutter.

And then all I know is warmth, and the soft silk of the sheets as my eyes close.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa

What have I done? Have I killed him?!

Why hasn’t he woken up?

It’s been days.

Every night I circle the hull, waiting for the flicker of a lantern, for the shadow of him pacing the deck like always. But there’s nothing. No barked orders. No curse at the wind.

I watch him through the porthole. He looks peaceful, but… he’s not okay.

The crew whisper. I hear them when I press close to the wood, their voices carrying through the cracks. Fever, they say. His lungs filled. He’s drowning on the air now, fighting a battle he already lost in the sea.

Did I do this?

No. No — I dragged him back. I kept him alive. I gave him to Yeosang. He coughed, he gasped. I saw it. I heard it. He lived.

So why hasn’t he woken?

My claws dig into the hull until wood splinters under my nails. I’ve never let anyone go before. Never pulled back when I had the kill in my hands. Never spared.

Why him?

Because of Yeosang. That’s all. For Yeosang.

But the boy’s prayers won’t wake him, and still the captain lies cold in his bed, fever eating him alive.

My tail thrashes under the water, boiling with something I don’t name. Anger, fear, shame — they blur together until I can’t tell one from the other.

If he dies now, what was the point?

If he dies now, then all I’ve done is fail.

Yeosang… He looked so worried. They all did. However much he shouts, they put up with it.

He must be good at heart, really. Yeosang doesn’t seem the type to love without reason. Under what I see, there must be kindness. Something that deserves his crew’s love.

I wish I deserved that kind of love.

Hongjoong

A warm, familiar scent fills my room, gently waking me from my slumber. A slightly sheepish Wooyoung shuffles in, a steaming bowl clutched in his hands.

He meets my eyes and almost drops the bowl as he jumps back.

“Captain! You’re, uh… up.”

“Yes…?”

“No, it’s just… it’s been a while. We thought we might have lost you.”

“I’m not that old, Wooyoung.”

He laughs.

“Yes you are—” he shakes his head, “sorry.”

I watch his eyes crease as he laughs, and the way he corrects himself immediately. My gaze drifts to the bowl, and he notices instantly.

“Oh, right! I made you soup. Bean sprout soup. But… we didn’t have any bean sprouts.” He sets the bowl on the table beside me. “So it’s just soup.”

“So… how does that make it bean sprout soup?”

“Well—” he thinks.

“Green onion soup? Garlic soup? Salt soup?”

“It’s just— just soup!”

“Well what’s the most common ingredient?”

“Bean sprouts, but…”

“No bean sprouts!”

“I DON’T KNOW THEN!”

“YOU’RE THE CHEF!”

“YEAH BUT—”

“DASHI?”

“YEAH THAT—”

“BUT THAT’S THE SOUP ITSELF!”

“THE OTHER INGREDIENTS DON’T GIVE ENOUGH FLAVOUR ON THEIR OWN FOR IT TO BE ANYTHING ELSE—”

“BUT I TASTE GARLIC!”

“THAT’S THE POINT OF PUTTING IT IN THERE! YOU TASTE IT IN ANYTHING I MAKE WITH GARLIC!”

“SO WHAT IS IT?!”

“SOUP!”

He stamps in frustration and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

It’s quiet without him.

He creaks open the door and his little face pops round the frame.

“Enjoy your no-bean-sprout bean sprout soup!”

The door shuts behind him with a click.

Ah, Wooyoung. I love him really, however much I pretend not to. We argue a lot, but it’s nothing serious. Just… debates?

And I must admit, the soup is really rather good. Delicate. Just what I needed after—

Nope. Nononono. No.

I lean over the side of my bed and fumble for the bucket, before throwing up again.

Everything reminds me of it. Salt, water, anything. I can’t keep it down.

I put the bucket back down and flop back on the bed, letting my eyes close again.

But all I see is him.

Seonghwa

It has been nights and days measured by cold lanterns and the scrape of rope against wood. The captain still lies under quilts, and every night the porthole is a square of breath that calls me.

Why hasn’t he woken?

I circle again until my muscles ache, until the barnacles bite into my skin. I push my face to the wood and listen. Yeosang’s steps. Soft, even, always. The boy moves like he belongs with people of flesh and worry. He is in there, leaning over the bed, bending as if he can will the fever away.

I find myself floating closer, nearer to the glass, watching the two of them. Yeosang presses cloth to the captain’s brow and then, like a prayer, touches his hair. He whispers things I can’t discern, but his hands stay long after the cloth does.

I should be furious. I should be scorning him for that softness, calling it weakness. Instead my tail curls. Why this ache? Because the boy is small, because his hands are gentle, because when he saved me he looked like he could love without condition.

I did not save the captain for myself. I tell myself that until the sound of it becomes nonsense. For Yeosang. Just for Yeosang.

But nights stretch thin. The fever claws. The crew’s whispers drift through cracks: “Pneumonia,” “lungs,” “he’s burning.” If he dies now, I will have carried a body out of the sea for nothing. I have never carried a life for nothing.

One evening Yeosang lingers after the others leave. He does not go to bed for himself. He sits, the lamplight soft behind him, and does not sleep. I watch as he smooths a blanket over the captain’s chest, his shoulders trembling. At one point he slumps forward, asleep sitting up, hands cupped, exhausted.

Once, when Yeosang stirs awake and stands, he walks to the porthole and stares out. For a blink he looks straight at me. His eyes search the dark and his lips move in a small, broken sound that could be thanks, or plea, or prayer.

Instead I only press my forehead to the glass, leaving a fogged crescent that slides with the tide, and then I go deeper, burning with a feeling I cannot name.

Hongjoong

The first thing I see is not the ceiling or the room — it is Yeosang’s face, close, eyes ringed with sleeplessness and a kind of fire that makes my chest both ache and tighten.

“Captain?” he says, voice thin with relief. “Oh — you’re… you’re awake.”

The world is full of small sounds. Wooyoung fussing outside the door, the hush of someone turning pages, the creak of the bed settling. My throat is raw, as though I swallowed glass. My tongue tastes of metal and the ocean. Of him. It is a perfume I cannot wear without wanting to claw it off.

Yeosang’s fingers are in my hair, brushing it out of the sweat clinging to my forehead. He won’t go. Even when I try to sit up, he forces my shoulder back down, not roughly, just steadily, as though he will be the light that keeps me from tilting into dark.

“Yeosang.” My voice rasped, small. “You… why did you—”

His jaw tightens. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re stubborn. You’d rather die than admit weakness. You scared us.”

I should be furious that I needed saving, that I was helpless. And then memory slices through. Cold fingers, a whisper, a voice in the dark: Now we’re even. Not Yeosang. Not any of them. A hand that was not human and yet held me like a promise or a threat.

I close my eyes and the image stays: someone beneath the water, something like a shadow that had hands and heart. My siren. I open them quickly, because Yeosang is watching, because I catch his hand squeezing mine, unwilling to let go just yet.

“Don’t you dare die,” he whispers into my hair, and the words are a vow as sharp as any command I gave to a crew. They make me want to laugh and want to cry, both at once.

Later, when the ship is quiet, I go to the rail. The deck creaks beneath my boots. The sea breathes darkly. For a moment I want to step out into the black and find him — the thing that held me when I was under. For a moment I want to promise myself I will.

Instead I whisper into the night, not to the sea but to something that listens anyway:

“You didn’t finish it. Why?”

The wind answers with nothing but the slap of waves. But I do not feel empty. I feel hunger, the first small, dangerous shape of wanting.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa

He looked for me last night.

He looked for the one who almost killed him.

He must be insane. I can't be anywhere near him. I can't risk losing control and hurting him again. I can't put Yeosang through it again. Can't put any of them through it. I heard he's really ill, too. Because of me.

Why didn't I finish it? I don't... I don't know. For Yeosang, I think.

No, definitely for Yeosang.

I see a figure over the rails, quite a small frame, but not the one of the captain. Yeosang!

Mustering all the courage I can, I steel myself before breaking the surface of the water, almost silent, directly before the boy.

"Yeosang!" I call out, somewhere between a whisper and a shout, if that's even possible.

He breaks from his thoughts with a start, and his eyes find mine.

"You- y-"

His eyes fill with something like admiration, then harden again.

"You tried to kill my captain."

My captain. The words sting like the salt spray from the waves.

"I know, I-"

"He's really ill. Been coughing up blood, he's got a fever, he's still being sick all the time. You did this."

The last words are hissed, but I see tears in his eyes. He really loves his captain.

And I almost took him away.

"I'm sorry, Yeosang. Really, I am."

He scoffs.

"Really. I really am sorry. I don't know why- no, I do. I was angry. Humiliated. I hated him. I wanted nothing more than to take revenge for what happened that morning, that morning you saved me." I sigh, "And how did I repay you? By drowning the man you love the most."

Yeosang turns his head from me, and when he looks back, his gaze is softer. Almost fond.

"But you didn't. You brought him back to me."

A choked sob is all I can manage. I don't deserve his forgiveness. I really, truly don't. I'm a monster, just like Hongjoong said. And I'm not proud of it now.

"Don't- don't think of yourself as a monster. I know you're thinking it. You stopped yourself. You knew you couldn't do it." He leans further, "You saved him."

"No! No, I hurt him! I'm the reason he's like this, the reason he's hurting, the reason you're all hurting."

"No, listen to me. You're the reason he's alive. You could have killed him. You didn't."

Somehow, his kindness hurts more than my anger ever did. Having someone talk to me in a way that isn't full of fear or hatred.

I don't understand the ache I feel. The yearning for more. I don't want to let this go.

"Yeosang..." My voice is a broken sob.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry!"

"Why don't you hate me?"

Hongjoong

It all hurts.

I'm cold, then hot, sweating, but still freezing. I don't understand what's happening. They won't tell me.

All I know is it's bad.

Another cough rips from my throat, bringing up hot blood with it, metallic and bitter. The door bursts open and Wooyoung rushes in, holding yet another bowl of some concoction.

"Captain!"

"No-" I cough and splutter again, ripping up my throat, "No, Wooyoung, I don't-"

I push the bowl back to him, weak, but it's all I can manage.

"Captain, please, you need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Please, just eat!"

"I'm really not hungry, please just don't-"

Wooyoung puts the bowl on the side for me, with a sigh, and steps back.

"I'll leave it here. Just promise me you'll eat. You'll get more ill if you don't."

I can't win with him. I never could. So, I just nod and let my head fall back on the pillow, as he leaves, with a final, worried glance.

My head is swimming with fear and pain and all the things I can't quite place. No one will tell me what's going on. No one will tell me what's wrong with me. Why I'm like this.

I'm scared.

My night is fevered and my mind is full of someone I haven't seen for so long, yet yearn for every day.

"General..." I whisper, reaching out to caress his face with a gentle touch, the strong scent of his cologne filling my senses and wrapping around me. "You're back..." I pull him closer to me, revelling in the closeness.

His eyes catch mine, dark and knowing, the corners of his lips tugging into that faint, unreadable smile that always left me guessing. The sharp cut of his uniform brushes against my skin as he leans closer, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"You’re burning," he murmurs, voice velvet and dangerous. "What have you done to yourself, Captain?"

"I waited," I whisper, clutching at his chest as though I could keep him tethered here. My body feels weightless and heavy all at once, every muscle tensed. "I’ve been waiting for you."

Ten’s hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking lazily over my cheekbone. It’s gentle, so gentle, the sort of touch that only makes the ache worse.

"I shouldn’t be here," he says, though he doesn’t move. His forehead presses to mine, his scent thick and dizzying. "You don’t know what you’re asking for."

"I do," I insist, breath breaking, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. "Don’t leave me again. Please."

He huffs a low laugh. "Still so stubborn." Then his lips graze the edge of mine, just a brush, enough to steal the last of my breath.

It tastes of smoke and salt, of his dark cologne. For a heartbeat, I think I could drown in it willingly.

I lean up, wanting more, needing more, clutching at the fabric of his uniform. The kiss is greedy, hungry, what comes from waiting so long.

"Ten..."

I collapse back onto the bed, sweating, trembling, hot and cold all at once.

And he's gone.

I let the fever pull me under again.

Seonghwa

We stay in silence for a long time, the boy with his knees to his chest, sitting on a rather conveniently placed crate, and me just above the water, gills fluttering, tail cutting through the black sea.

Taking a deep breath, I break the quiet, "So what's wrong with him, really?"

He startles a little, but his eyes find mine again.

"What? I wasn't listening."

"What's wrong with your captain?"

I watch his eyes darken with worry as he sits up straighter.

"We don't know. No one wants to suggest it, but-" he stops, and sighs again. He seems far too old now, years of sea life have weathered him to be at least twice his age.

"But what, Yeosang?"

"I think he's got pneumonia."

I look at him blankly. Such terms are foreign to me. In the water, you get ill, you die. No one knows why. But you don't eat the ones who died ill. I assume it can't be good.

"Do you-" he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "Do you even know what that is?"

It feels as though I've disappointed a prestigious figure as I shake my head. Yeosang just looks so... done with it all. Tired, though he tries to look strong.

"It's bad, okay? I don't know if he'll get better."

I rise further up, fire in my eyes, "He will."

"But how do you know that?!"

"I've been watching him. All the time. He doesn't want to give up."

"But he-"

"Yeosang, stop! Just... Stop."

Hongjoong

Where did he... Where did he go...?

"Ten?" I call out, feeble and shaky. "General?"

He's not there... I don't... I don't understand...

"Captain?" Wooyoung once again rushes in, immediately pressing a cool damp cloth to my forehead, pushing me into the pillow again.

"T- Ten... He..."

"Shh... Shh... Go to sleep."

"I... But..."

I eventually give in to his relentless whispers, and it all fades away.

Seonghwa

"But what if-"

"Yeosang!" Another boy sprints onto deck from below, running to Yeosang and gripping his arm. "The captain, he-"

He stops as his eyes fall to me.

"It's... It's..."

His eyes widen.

"It's you!"

Chapter Text

Seonghwa

“It’s you!” The boy exclaims, expression a mix of fear, shock and awe.

“Uh….”

“Wooyoung, this is the siren. Yes, the one from-”

“Sorry, ‘the siren’? No name?”

“Well no, I- He-”

“There is no way you’ve been talking for this long and you don’t know his name. Really Yeosang? That’s weird, even for you!”

“Come on Wooyoung, we just haven’t-”

“It’s Seonghwa.”

They stop, finally seeming to realise I am still here.

“Seonghwa?”

“Seonghwa,” I repeat, the word rough on my tongue. “That is… my name.”

The boy — Wooyoung, Yeosang called him — gawks at me as though I’ve just confessed to being the sea itself. His mouth works open and closed, and then, with no hesitation at all, he blurts:

“You’re the one who dragged him under.”

My tail lashes hard enough to slap the water, spray misting up between us. “Yes.”

Wooyoung flinches, but doesn’t step back. Bold, this one. Too bold for his own good. “And then you’re the one who brought him back. Which is it? Murderer or saviour?”

The word murderer twists sharp in my gut. I could dive. Should dive. End this now. But Yeosang’s eyes are on me, steady, unblinking. He doesn’t move to stop me, doesn’t move to explain. He just… waits. The salt wind whips his hair across his face, but he doesn’t blink.

“I don’t know,” I say finally. “Both.”

Wooyoung snorts, half-disbelieving, half-angry. “That’s not good enough. He’s coughing his lungs up down there, fever burning him alive, and you—” His voice cracks, then steadies into a brittle, too-bright laugh. “You don’t even know if you’re saving him or finishing him off.”

I go very still. The sea beneath me rocks slow and heavy.

“He is still alive,” Yeosang says quietly, cutting in before Wooyoung can spit more fire. His hand rests on Wooyoung’s shoulder, a weight that calms without forcing. “Because of him.” He tilts his head at me. “He didn’t finish it. He’s been watching every night.”

Wooyoung blinks at him, then at me. His expression twists, unsettled. “That’s—” He stops. Exhales. “That’s insane.”

I want to argue. I want to defend myself. Instead, the only words that come are: “I didn’t want him to die.” My claws dig into the railing until the wood splinters. “Not for him. For you.”

The words hang heavy, swallowed by the creak of the ship and the hiss of the waves.

And then a sound cuts the air: a hollow, racking cough from below, followed by silence so deep it freezes all three of us in place. Wooyoung’s face drains pale.

“The captain,” he breathes, and he’s already sprinting for the stairs, feet pounding the deck.

Yeosang lingers half a second longer, eyes locked with mine, unreadable. “Stay,” he whispers, and then he’s gone, too, chasing after Wooyoung.

I am left alone at the rail, saltwater dripping from my hands, the captain’s ragged silence echoing in my skull.

I need to see him.

Hongjoong

My chest is on fire.

No, it’s worse than fire. It’s drowning all over again, but inside. Every breath is a mouthful of seawater, heavy and thick, rattling my lungs. My ribs heave, clawing for air, but nothing quite reaches deep enough. In, out. In, out. Useless. The walls blur; the ceiling ripples like water.

“Captain!” The cry rips through the haze, urgent and terrified. Wooyoung. He’s suddenly beside me, his hands pulling me up from the mattress as my body lurches with another fit of coughing.

Something wet and metallic fills my mouth, like copper on my tongue. I choke, coughing until the basin rattles against the floor where Wooyoung shoves it under my chin just in time. The smell of salt and iron rises up, turning my stomach.

“Yeosang! He’s-” Wooyoung’s voice cracks, too high. “He’s spitting up blood!”

Feet pound the floorboards, and then Yeosang’s there, breathless, eyes wide with a kind of fear I’ve never seen in him. His hand is at my forehead instantly, and I feel the damp cloth slip away, replaced with another. Cool relief that lasts only a second before fever burns it off again.

“He’s burning,” Yeosang mutters, half to himself, half a prayer. “Gods, he’s burning alive.”

I try to speak, but it comes out as a gasp, words torn apart by coughing. “S-stop… it’s just—”

“Don’t.” Yeosang’s voice is steady but breaking at the edges. “Don’t waste your breath. Please.”

Wooyoung kneels so close his shoulder knocks against the bedframe, one hand gripping mine so tightly I almost forget the fever, forget the drowning. Almost. “You can’t leave us, Captain. You’re not allowed. Not after everything. Not after you-” His throat closes, and the rest vanishes in a choked-off sob.

Their voices blur as another wave of coughing drags me under. The basin clatters again, hot liquid spilling against my lips and chin. My vision goes black at the edges. For a terrifying second, I wonder if this is it, if the sea has finally come to finish what it started.

“Hold on. Just- hold on. We’ll keep you here. I swear it.”

I want to laugh. I want to tell him the sea doesn’t let go that easily, that I’ve already felt its hands on me once. Instead, I slump back against the pillow, chest heaving, every breath shallow and broken. My body is heavy, useless. My mind drifts.

Somewhere beyond the fever, beyond the fire in my lungs, I think I see water lapping at the edge of the bed. A shadow leaning close, eyes I can’t name watching me from the dark.

The siren hasn’t finished with me yet.

Seonghwa

I’m terrified. Terrified of what I’ve done to him, terrified of the look on Yeosang’s face. The boy’s eyes are swollen red, his hands trembling as he presses cloth after cloth to the captain’s burning skin, whispering words that I can’t hear.

It should have been clean. One pull, one drag, one death. That’s how it always goes. But I let him go, and now he suffers worse than if I’d finished it. He’s dying slowly, and I made it so.

Through the hull I hear every rasp, every cough that rips his chest apart. The sound is unbearable. I claw at the wood until splinters wedge beneath my nails, until blood mixes with seawater.

Yeosang’s voice breaks on a whisper: “Please.”

My throat tightens. Sirens do not answer prayers. We are the storms people fear, not the salvation they beg for. And yet… my lips part before I can stop it.

A note leaves me, low and trembling, rolling into the dark water. Not the luring song, not the sharp edge that drags sailors into the depths, but something softer, something I barely remember how to use. It slips between the cracks of the hull, weaving through the cabin like mist.

Wooyoung startles at the sound, I can hear it in the way his voice stutters: “Wh—what’s that?”

“Shh,” Yeosang breathes, though I know he hears me. His silence tells me he understands. He doesn’t stop me. He lets it happen.

Inside, Hongjoong’s coughing doesn’t vanish, not at all, but it falters, spaces widening between the violent spasms. The basin still rattles now and then, but weaker, less frequent. His breathing is still shallow, still ragged, but the rhythm grows heavy. Weighted. Sleepy. My voice threads through his fever, dragging him down into some kind of rest.

Not healing. Never healing. Just buying him a few stolen hours of peace.

My voice quivers as I keep it going, barely daring to breathe myself. I don’t know if this is mercy or cruelty. Maybe it’s both. Maybe I’m only tying him to dreams he can’t escape.

But if I stop, I think he’ll wake in agony again. If I stop, he’ll call for that name — the name of a man who is not me.

Hongjoong

I hear something. Quieting my brain, blocking out my pain. A soothing tone, a low hum, stable. It doesn't stop for... hours. I hear it when I sleep, hear it in my dreams.

But Ten isn't there. Has he left me?

The only one I can see is him. The siren.

Gods, I still don't know his name.

But he's so...

He's always here. I pretend not to notice, but I see his shadow at my window. His eyes piercing the blackness of the water. He seems afraid.

I can't help but fall...

Chapter Text

Seonghwa

The captain still burns, but the fever hasn’t taken him yet. Every time his chest rattles, every time his body curls in on itself from the coughing, I remind myself, he's alive.

Alive — but not mine.

I watch through the porthole as the crew take turns at his side. Jongho sits with his arms folded tight, guarding him in silence. San brushes damp cloths over his skin, murmuring little jokes as though laughter could burn the sickness out. Wooyoung sprawls across the side of the bed when exhaustion wins, one hand still clutching the captain’s wrist like a child unwilling to let go.

They touch him so freely. They can. Their hands move across his arms, his hair, pressing cups to his lips, steadying him when his body shakes with a cough. I have dragged him under the sea with claws and teeth, and now I can only cling to the wood outside, barred from even brushing the sweat from his brow.

It’s worse at night, when the fever dreams set in. His voice drifts out, whispering one name.

“Ten…”

The word spears through me every time.

Who is this ghost, this man with no face, no presence on the deck, yet the captain clings to him as though he were the one who hauled him from the sea?

His lover?

But me? I am only the shadow outside the window. The thing he fears, the thing he won’t name.

The monster.

I want— gods, I want— what they have. To rest a hand on his wrist and feel the life pulsing weakly there. To hold him when his body wracks with coughs. To press his head against my chest until the trembling stills as he cries.

But if I touch him again... I don't want to hurt him now.

So I listen. I watch. I burn with envy at every hand that steadies him, every whispered word that draws a flicker of peace across his features. And when his lips shape that name in the dark, I dig my claws into the hull until wood splinters beneath them, until the salt water around me clouds red.

I am the one who nearly killed him.

I am the one who brought him back.

So why isn’t it my name he calls?

“Hey! Fish-boy!”

The shout makes me start. My tail thrashes before I can stop it, sending ripples slapping against the planks. I tilt my head up. A mop of dark hair hangs over the railing, and then Wooyoung leans right out, chin propped on his hand like he’s talking to an old friend.

“Yeosang told me everything,” he says, sing-song.
“About you. About how you tried to eat our captain and then decided, nah, let’s drag him back instead. Very confusing, by the way. We’re all confused. You’re confusing.”

“I…” The words come rough in my throat. “I don’t answer to you.”

He grins, utterly unfazed. “Oh, good. Because I wasn’t really asking. I was talking. That’s what I do.”

My tail curls tight, irritation pricking my scales. But he keeps going, relentless.

“You know, you’re kind of pretty up close. Oh come on, don't try to be scary now. I think you're cute."

Cute...?

“Yeosang says you’ve been out here every night. Listening. Watching.” He tilts his head. “Why?”

The question knots something in my chest. Why indeed. Why when it tears me apart to watch them touch him, when every whisper of Ten burns like a brand in my ears. Why when I can never be the one at his side.

I don’t answer.

Wooyoung hums like that’s answer enough. He tips his head back, gazing at the sky for a moment. “He’s really sick, you know.” His voice softens, catching me off guard. “He scares me sometimes with how fragile he looks. But then he yells, and we all remember - oh, right, that’s Captain.”

He glances back down at me. His smile is smaller now, almost gentle. “It makes Yeosang feel better, having you out here. Even if he won’t say it. Even if Jongho would kill me for admitting it.”

I blink at him, caught between confusion and something dangerously close to warmth.

Then he ruins it. “So, Seonghwa, right? Do you, like… get jealous?”

The word slams into me like a spear. My claws dig into the wood. “What?”

“You know. That we get to be close. That we can touch him.” His eyes sparkle wickedly, but his voice stays soft. “Because you do look jealous. Like you want to crawl through that little window and shove us all away.”

My throat works, but no sound comes out. He’s too close to the truth.

Wooyoung just shrugs, rocking back on his heels. “It’s okay if you do. Means you care.” His grin returns. “And between you and me… I like you better than that General."

He winks, then disappears from the railing, leaving me confused in his wake, the waves clawing at my chest.

Hongjoong

When the singing stopped, it all hurt again. My mind cleared, now it's cloudy again. Ten was gone, now he's back again.

The dark scent of his cologne engulfs me, familiar and enticing. It's a scent I know well, and it means he's here.

My General.

"Captain..."

Cold fingers brush my cheek, tearing me from the daze. I look up to meet his eyes, heavy and dark, pulling me deeper into his love.

I reach for him, grasping at the coarse material of his naval uniform, trying to pull myself up to him, needing him, drowning in the scent of his cologne.

"Oh, Captain..." He chuckles, a low sound. "So impatient."

His gloved hand slides down, cupping my chin, tilting my head to look at him. My heartbeat stutters, weak against the fever, but I lean into his touch anyway. The room swims, edges blurring until the only thing I see is him.

“Tell me,” Ten murmurs, his lips close enough that I feel the ghost of the words against my mouth, “how long have you loved me?"

My throat is raw, voice barely more than a rasp. “Always.”

“Always,” he repeats, as his thumb drags across my lower lip. “And yet, you wait until you’re half-dead to see me.”

I choke on a laugh, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters except him, the steady pull of him. I want- no, I need him closer.

For a moment, it seems he’ll grant it. His mouth hovers above mine, close enough that I can almost feel his lips on mine. My body trembles, caught between fear and longing.

The hum.

It threads through the fever like a current, low and steady, wrapping around me with a gentleness that Ten never had. My body reacts before my mind does, shoulders loosening, breaths dragging just a little easier.

But Ten...

“No,” I gasp, clutching at him as he starts to fade, his cologne thinning like smoke in the wind. “Don’t go- don’t you dare-”

Ten’s smile is sharp, cutting. “You’re called for by someone else.”

“I’m not,” I protest, desperate

“You are.” He leans in, presses the barest kiss to my temple, and the chill of it runs straight to my bones. “And you don’t even know his name.”

The words shatter me. I reach again, but he’s already gone, slipping through my fingers like water. His laugh lingers, low and cruel, even as his body vanishes into the haze.

All that remains is the singing.

I turn my head, chest heaving, and through the fogged glass of the window, he’s there. The siren. His eyes lock with mine, wide and desperate.

My body aches to reach for him, though I can’t. My arms are too heavy, my chest too weak. But he’s here. Not Ten. Him.

My eyes feel heavy, the sound tugging me under, but even as sleep takes me, I cling to that last sight: the glow of the siren's eyes, the way he looked at me like he was afraid.

Seonghwa

Watching through that window has become almost all I know. Waiting for him to get better, waiting for something to change.

Waiting for Hongjoong to smile, and actually mean it.

But still, the captain longs for that Ten. The one I've grown to loathe. How can Hongjoong love a man who's not there?!

Why can't he just look around, see all the people who actually love him? Yeosang, Jongho, San... Hell, even Wooyoung. But not me. I don't love him. Not like that.

It breaks my heart to see the crew so distraught, so afraid. I may not understand their reasons, but I see how much they love him. Really, really love him. Not... Whatever the captain thinks General Ten feels. That's not love, that's lust.

A low noise snaps me from my thoughts. I clutch the hull of the ship, staring through the window.

It's happening again.

Hongjoong reaches for someone who's not there, moving for someone who's not there, someone who's never there. He looks desperate, pained, as he murmurs words I can't make out.

All I can do is watch. Something aches inside me that I can't name, as I'm stuck to the glass, looking in. I want nothing more than to tear him away, out of his fevered haze, to see, for once, the real world.

But I can't. I'm stuck on the outside. Always on the outside. Never- never there.

Overwhelmed by that strange feeling, curling in my gut, I sing. Low, long, steady. Something in the water stills, the air in the ship shifting. The captain's breathing stills, the sweat fading from his brow. His eyes widen as he reaches further, clutching desperately, wanting him.

But I know Ten's gone. The illusion, the fever, replaced with stillness.

And his eyes find mine.

Chapter Text

Hongjoong

This illness… it’s felt so long, yet so short. My fever’s finally broken. I’m not quite on the edge of death now.

My mouth doesn’t taste like salt and blood anymore, just… air. Clean. Sharp. Almost strange in my lungs after so much burning.

My body feels foreign. Weak, weightless, and sore all at once. Every muscle aches like I’ve been fighting the sea itself, and maybe I have. Maybe I lost. Maybe I won. I can't tell.

My mind is clearer now. No more shadows whispering in the corners of my thoughts.

But his scent still lingers, buried deep. That dark cologne. I can almost feel his touch still pressed to my skin, familiar and cold.

I shake my head to rid myself of it.

Yet the memory clings to me, tighter than it should.

I sit up slowly, the ship groaning beneath me. The motion makes my stomach twist, but I don’t stop. I need to see the world again. To see my crew. To see that they’re real, that I’m real.

The door creaks open before I can stand. Yeosang’s there, quiet as always. He freezes when he sees me upright, and for a moment I think he might cry.

“You’re awake,” he says, voice soft, disbelieving.

“I think so,” I rasp, then manage a weak smile. “Unless this is another dream.”

Yeosang steps closer, careful, as though I might break if he moves too fast. “You scared us.”

“I scared myself,” I admit.

He huffs a quiet laugh and sets a glass of water on the table. His hands are steady, but his eyes are red-rimmed, tired. “You should drink. Slowly. Wooyoung will kill me if you choke to death after all that work.”

I do as he says. When I hand the cup back, I catch his wrist before he pulls away. “Yeosang… was there someone singing?”

He freezes.

It’s only for a heartbeat, but I feel it — the way his pulse jumps under my fingers.

“During the fever,” I say quickly, trying to sound casual. “I kept hearing… something. A voice. A song.”

He swallows. “You dreamt it.”

“I don’t think I did.”

Yeosang hesitates, eyes darting toward the window. Then he shakes his head and forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You dreamt it,” he repeats, and before I can say more, he slips out, leaving me with silence. I catch a grin cracking his calm facade as he leaves.

The sunlight glints off the windowpane. I turn my head, expecting nothing.

A ripple.

And then a shape beneath it. The faint shimmer of scales catching the light, gone as quickly as it appears.

My breath catches.

He’s still here.

The siren.

The one whose eyes I saw in my fever — the one whose song steadied my breath when nothing else could.

The one who tried to drown me.

I don’t know his name. I don’t know why he stays. But when the ship rocks gently and a low hum carries up through the water again, I can’t help it — I watch him move. Gods, he's stunning. Like... really stunning. I don't care what he did. If anything, I'm glad Yeosang let him free from that net.

I got to be close to him. Feel his fingers on my skin. Feel his lips against my ear. Gods...

The hum fades.

But this time, I know I didn’t imagine it.

Seonghwa

The nights have been awfully quiet recently. I'd say too quiet, but it's a good thing. It means Hongjoong is okay. Means Ten isn't there. Means Yeosang, Wooyoung, all of them, aren't crying themselves to sleep, not sure if they'll see their captain the next day.

Water drips from my hair and down my face as I break the surface of the water, looking for the boy I've grown rather attached to now, just to see him at least, tell him it's okay.

But my eyes meet the calm ones of Jongho instead.

“Yeosang, your friend's here,” he says, barely batting an eyelid at the fact a siren — the one who almost drowned his captain — is just hanging around. “Waiting politely, in fact.”

The boy almost throws himself over the side of the ship in his excitement, a wide grin plastered on his face. Wooyoung tries to look casual as he saunters over, but he can't hide the twinkle in his bright eyes.

“Seonghwa!” Yeosang leans over to look at me. Jongho's arm darts out to keep him from falling. “I don't know what you did, but Captain is looking a lot better!”

“And the General is gone from his dreams, you'll be pleased to know.” Wooyoung smirks, eliciting a snicker from San.

I splash him hard, looking thoroughly outraged.

“And what is that supposed to mean?!”

He laughs, “You know full well what I mean.”

One of the tall ones pushes him away with a tired exhale, though his eyes betray his amusement.

“Give the guy a break, Woo.”

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at the tall one and runs over to San, seating himself on the older one's lap.

“I'm Yunho. Yeosang's told us all about you. Not that we didn't know you before, but... it's different now.” His smile is so incredibly difficult to ignore. So bright, so warm. Like he has his own personal ray of sunshine when he smiles.

“And I'm Mingi!!” the other tall one practically bounds over, bright-eyed and beaming. Yunho subtly snakes an arm around his waist.

I stare up at the two of them, then at Wooyoung and San.

“You always travel in pairs?”

Yunho stares at me in confusion, then looks down at the arm wrapped around Mingi's waist.

“You mean we're together?” He says, a hint of mirth in his tone.

“Together... Like... Tied?”

Wooyoung splutters on a laugh, burying his face in San's neck as his shoulders shake.

“Not... Not exactly.” Yunho clarifies, “Not physically.”

“Sometimes physically...” Jongho mutters, shooting a pointed look at the two further back. San opens his mouth in shock, and Yeosang whacks Jongho on the arm.

I'm just confused, frankly. Mingi can tell, and he nudges Yunho with a smile.

“Doesn't matter. We're in love, so we say we're together. Not physically tied, just emotionally.”

I tilt my head, puzzled. “That sounds complicated.”

“Yeah,” Yunho says fondly. “It is.”

There’s an easy rhythm to them — teasing, leaning, bumping shoulders — a kind of closeness that feels impossible and effortless all at once.

I watch them for a while, trying to understand what it is they have. It’s not the pull of a song or the bond of shared blood, not hunger or instinct. It’s something else. Something I don’t have a word for.

They talk about the weather, about repairs, about Wooyoung accidentally setting something on fire (“it was one time!”), and somehow it’s… nice. Their voices fill the space above the waves, and I let them.

But then Mingi, ever the curious one, leans too far over, trying to see my hip gills, and I instinctively reach up to steady him. My claws brush his wrist before I pull back.

He blinks at me, wide-eyed. “You’re cold.”

I glance down at my dripping fingers, feeling the echo of his pulse. “You’re warm,” I say, almost to myself. “How do you do that?”

“Blood,” Wooyoung says with exaggerated seriousness. “We have blood.”

“I have blood,” I protest, indignant.

“Yeah, but yours is probably sparkly or blue or something.”

I glare at him. “It is not sparkly.”

They all laugh, and the sound wraps around me like a current — loud, alive, and strange. It makes something flicker in my chest, something sharp and bright that I don’t know how to name.

I sink a little deeper into the water, hiding the confusion on my face. “Humans are loud,” I mutter.

“Better than sulking fish,” Wooyoung shoots back instantly.

Jongho gives him a firm nudge in the ribs. “He’s not a fish.”

“Thank you,” I say, surprised by the defense.

“Fish are smarter,” Jongho adds dryly.

Mingi laughs so hard he nearly falls over the railing again.

I don’t know why it makes me want to laugh. Maybe because for once, they’re not afraid of me. Maybe because I’m not afraid of them either.

When the noise fades, Yunho looks down at me again. “Do you ever come out of the water?”

“Sometimes,” I admit slowly. “It’s… difficult. We can shift—make legs—but it takes too much. We breathe with gills, not lungs. Changing that hurts.”

“So it’s like holding your breath?” Mingi asks.

I nod. “But worse.”

Yeosang frowns, resting his chin on his hand. “You must get lonely out there.”

I blink up at him. The question sounds simple, but it lands heavy. “Lonely?” I echo, tasting the word. “Is that when… you miss someone?”

The crew goes quiet. Even Wooyoung, for once, doesn’t make a joke.

“Yeah,” Yunho says softly. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“Oh.” I look down at the waves. “Then yes. I think I am.”

They don’t laugh this time. They just stay there — six humans leaning over the edge of their world, watching me, the creature they should fear — and I think maybe they understand a little more than I do.

“Next time,” Wooyoung says, breaking the silence, “we’re teaching you cards.”

“Cards?”

“It’s a game,” Yeosang explains. “You’ll love it.”

“I don’t know how to play,” I admit.

Wooyoung smirks. “That’s what makes it fun.”

I shake my head, hiding a small, strange smile. “You’re all very odd.”

“And you’re one of us now,” San says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

One of them.

Chapter Text

Hongjoong

The ship sleeps.
Wood creaks, waves sigh, and somewhere below, something hums — that same sound that once pulled me back from the edge of dying.

The fever’s gone, but I still feel it, like heat trapped in my bones.

And that song… it’s written on my skin.

I shouldn’t know it, shouldn’t crave it. But when the hum drifts up through the boards, I’m already on my feet before I know what I’m doing — blanket falling, bare feet sliding across the cabin floor.

The deck air hits me like a slap. Cold, sharp, alive. The sea stretches black and endless.
And there — near the starboard side, where the moon cuts a path across the water — a shape moves beneath the surface, silver catching against scales.

Him.

The siren.

I grip the railing. My pulse hammers against the bruises Ten left in my dreams. “You’re real,” I whisper, voice hoarse, half in disbelief.

For a moment, nothing.

Then movement.

He surfaces slowly, water sliding off his shoulders like liquid glass. The moonlight turns his skin pale gold, his hair clinging to his neck. His eyes — gods, his eyes — find mine, and I forget how to breathe.

The world narrows to this: the sound of my own heartbeat and the hush of waves breaking against the hull.

He doesn’t speak. Of course he doesn’t. He can’t — not like this, not through the distance. But I swear the air moves around him, charged with something that feels like a word I can’t name.

My mouth goes dry. “You sang for me,” I say.

His head tilts, slow and deliberate.

“You—” My throat tightens. “You saved me. After you—after you tried to—”
I can’t say the word drown. It doesn’t fit anymore.

The siren’s gaze doesn’t waver. The sea ripples around him, soft, pulsing, like it moves to the rhythm of his breath.

I should hate him.

I should fear him.

Instead, I lean closer over the railing, my fingers gripping the wet wood so hard they ache. “Why?” I ask. “Why me?”

His expression flickers — confusion, maybe.

I swear my body remembers the feel of his hands pulling me through salt and darkness.

I close my eyes. “I knew it was you,” I whisper. “All this time. I could feel you.”

When I open them again, he’s closer. The moon paints his throat, the sharp lines of his jaw. He looks almost human. Almost — but not quite.

Seonghwa

He shouldn’t be standing. He shouldn’t be here.

When I saw him rise, wrapped in nothing but the night and that fragile heartbeat, I almost dove — to stop him, to hide, to do anything except let him see me like this.

But I couldn’t move.

He looks nothing like the fevered boy I dragged from the water. He’s smaller than I remember, more breakable — yet when he looks at me, it feels like he’s the one who could devour me whole.

“You sang for me,” he says, and the words slide through my chest like a blade.

I did. I shouldn’t have. Sirens don’t sing for humans — not to save them.

His voice shakes, his hand gripping the railing like he might fall. Instinct takes me before thought does; I rise higher, just enough that the water laps my ribs, ready to catch him if he tumbles.

“Why me?” he asks.

The words mean nothing and everything.

Why him? Because he looked back when no one ever has. Because his voice called through the water and I answered. Because his eyes looked like something I remembered and forgot at once.

Because I wanted to.

I hum before I can stop myself. The sound leaves my chest and reaches for him, brushing against his skin. He shivers.

And then he whispers, “I could feel you.”

My gills flare. The water around me trembles. That shouldn’t be possible. Humans don’t feel sirens. They hear, they drown, they die. But he—he’s still here.

Still breathing.

Still watching me like he knows what I am and doesn’t care.

I lift one hand above the surface. Water drips from my fingers. For a moment, I imagine what his warmth would feel like — how the pulse of his heart might sound against my claws.

But I don’t touch him. I can’t.

His breath clouds in the cold, and he whispers, almost like a prayer: “What are you?”

I want to tell him everything. That I don’t understand what this is either. That when I sing, it’s not to lure him anymore — it’s to keep him alive. That his name feels wrong in my mouth but right in my chest.

Instead, I just look at him. And for the first time, I think he understands me without words.

The wind cuts between us, harsh and cold, but neither of us moves.

Hongjoong

The sea looks endless, but for the first time, I’m not afraid of falling in.

He’s there, a man so beautiful I can't be afraid, and all I can think is... I want to feel him.

To feel what’s real — his skin, his breath, him.

I reach for him. Not all the way, just enough that the moonlight catches between us — my trembling fingers and his dripping ones, two halves of something broken and wrong and impossibly right.

“Tell me your name,” I breathe.

His lips part, but no sound comes. He's almost... Afraid to speak.

Then, so soft I almost miss it, a single word ripples across the water — like the sea itself says it.

“Seonghwa.”

And my heart, traitorous thing, flutters.

“Seonghwa.” I repeat.

He blinks, like he didn’t expect me to say it. His eyes drop, then flicker away, guilt shadowing something else he can't explain any more than I can.

The cold bites at my fingers, but I can’t bring myself to pull back.

“I—” His voice falters. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He looks at me like I’m the impossible one.

Spray catches in my hair, salt against my tongue. I lean closer, and the world tilts with me. I could almost reach him. Almost touch the place where moonlight fades to skin.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. His gaze drops to my hand, misting in the cold air between us.

And for a moment, I swear he wants me too.

Until he flinches.

Just barely, but enough. His jaw tightens, gills fluttering against his neck like the wings of a trapped fly.

“Seonghwa?” I whisper.

But he’s already pulling back. The water swallows him inch by inch — shoulders, throat, the gleam of his eyes last of all.

“N- No. No, no, I can't.” His eyes glisten. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“Seonghwa...”

“No! This- this is wrong. I can't- no, no-”

The siren sinks beneath the waves.

“Wait!” My voice cracks, desperate and- and stupid. “Don’t go!”

The sea answers with silence. Just a ripple where he’d been.

I’m left there shaking, leaning over the rail, the ghost of his name on my tongue.

And for the first time since the fever broke, I feel cold again.

“Captain?”

Slow steps make the boards creak. Light and heavy at once. Cautious. He knows something's wrong.

“Why are you out here?”

Calm. Steady.

Such calmness is unusual for this ship. Apart from this voice. The one I know so well, so fondly.

Jongho.

His hands find my shoulders as he kneels beside me. His presence is comforting to me in an odd way I can't describe. He's just... There. Unmoving. Unshaken. He makes me feel more protected than ever before.

“Yeosang won't want you out here. Nor will Wooyoung. They'll have my head if I let you stay. They'll have yours for being outside in your condition.”

He sighs, not exasperated, not annoyed. Just resigned.

“Not talking, Captain?” He stands, hands never leaving my shoulders. “That's okay. Just come inside. He's not coming back.”

Jongho takes my hands, so gently, and helps me to my feet. His hand rests on my back as he leads me back towards the door to inside.

“You don't have to say anything. I already know.” He smiles, “And I won't tell them. Just be careful next time.”

I barely register if he says anything else. I'm just back in my bed, thinking of the siren. Seonghwa.

The way he left in such a state.

How close I was to him.

Close enough to touch him.

Close enough to-

“Go to sleep, Captain.” Jongho's soft voice cuts through my thoughts. “Go to sleep.”

My head sinks further into the pillow, until all I know is the feeling of the sheets around me, the warmth of my bed, and...

And Seonghwa.