Chapter Text
One was born with a heart that glowed like gold,
the other with a tail that shimmered silver
— and somewhere between them, fate had tied its knot.
Hongjoong was there when they ripped him out of the ocean.
“Ain’t that a beauty,” one of the pirates sneered, as five of them were dragging a net of heavy chains abroad, “Careful with the tail—”
But they weren’t careful.
The merman’s silver tail hit the deck hard, crashing on the wood with such a force that would break all 206 bones in a human body–the impact making Hongjoong flinch.
Blood, dark blue as ink, dripped between the glistening scales. The merman gasped, but no cry came—just a sharp breath, like he was choking on the air itself.
Soon the deck stank of wet iron, blood, and smoke, and for a moment it looked as if the ocean itself grieved for his fate.
The ship’s crew was louder than the thunder ever was. Others cursing, others roaring with laughter, and two men pointing their swords on the merman's throat to stop his writhing as he was desperately fighting his way out of the net. Back into the ocean.
And then silence, as Hongjoong's father made his way towards the brouhaha.
The blades didn't seize from the merman's throat.
''Captain, our fate changed! We pulled this instead of a whale pup.''
Hongjoong’s father prowled around the merman like a wolf that had cornered a wounded stag. His boots already slick with the blood pooling beneath the merman’s torn fins. His eyes gleamed with something sharp and greedy, his mouth twisted in a sneer that made Hongjoong’s stomach turn.
“His species is damned,” an old pirate yelled, his voice thick with disdain. “Good for nothing but their magic.''
''Cursed fucks —'' another hissed, ''Better chained than left to pollute the seabed. But pricey to us, Aye! We’ll bleed him dry before we’re done. A treasure chest that refills itself.” the man laughed.
''Look at him.'' the quartermaster barked, a feral ugly sound that echoed off the deck boards. ''A pretty bauble, soft as jelly, and twice as helpless out of the damn sea.''
Hongjoong's father crouched low, his fingers reaching to seize the merman's face and turn it toward him– like inspecting livestock. “This is going to make me rich. Make us real kings, lads. Remember that.”
The merman writhed weakly.
Silver hair clung to his damp skin, the strands brushing just to his shoulders like threads of moonlight tangled among the chains. His tail, magnificent even outside of the water, shimmered with silver scales streaked in soft blue, glinting whenever the day light caught it. Sea-water still dripped from it, pooling at the deck. The skin on his body was pale but luminous, as if carved from sea-foam or the inside a shell.
He wasn’t built like the monsters the stories told—there were no fangs, no claws, no threat. Just long limbs, shaking, and a face that seemed too delicate for this world. High cheekbones, a gentle jawline and lips hanging parted as if he tried to catch a breath between terror and plea.
But it was his eyes that held Hongjoong frozen. A gray-blue color, so light they seemed part of the sky itself. Even wide with panic, even rimmed with tears, they looked soft—like they could only know kindness– as if cruelty was something unknown to him.
No beast could have eyes like that. No curse could live behind them. And all Hongjoong could think was: How could such a life form ever be—damned?
He stood frozen, while the crew lifted him up–quick to haul their prize below the deck— the chains clinking heavy around his struggling, silver shape. They dumped him unceremoniously into a small tank made of glass, the tangled net of chains around him splashing half of the water in it outside. The rest of the water barely reached halfway up the merman's body, and it was already clouding with his blood.
“That’ll do,” the quartermaster grunted. “Enough to keep him breathing. No need to waste clean water.”
''Aye, his kind don’t need convenience.'' his father spat with an evil chuckle, ''Just make sure to keep him alive. We got a lot'a work to do.”
Hongjoong’s fists clenched at his sides,his nails biting into his palms. His father’s laughter clinged in his ears, a sound he had hated since boyhood. A sound that always meant something or someone was about to be crushed.
Hongjoong should speak. He should stop this.
The words clawed at his throat, but they wouldn’t come — not with the eyes of the crew on him. Rough men loyal to their captain, not to the captain’s son. Men who would easily gut him as quick as any fish if he dared defy their master–their shared blood meaning nothing to them. As it meant nothing to his father himself.
Not a single ally stood with Hongjoong on this deck in his eighteen years now.
Not one soul who would back his fist if he raised it.
And Hongjoong's own skills — he was quick, sharper than most with a blade, but not enough. Not yet. He had been building his strength, waiting for the day he could break free, clean — not die bleeding out on the planks of this cursed ship.
So he stood silent, burning inside, as the merman lay gasping in that foul tank, his silver hair matted with filth and blood, and the chains already forming bruises into his skin.
Gods curse this world, Hongjoong thought bitterly, as his father’s crew crowded around the catch. A world where worth is measured in coin, in what a man or creature can be made to give up under a blade or a chain. A world that calls beauty weakness and kindness folly.
He had never fit. Not when he was a boy, watching them spit and jeer at anything strange, anything softer than their own hardened souls.
Not when they boasted of unfair slaughters and sported with hunger in their eyes.
Hongjoong grew up in it. The hollow pit of loneliness that came from knowing he was wrong in their eyes. Wrong for the way he wouldn’t join in when they tormented captives. Wrong for thinking that a man’s heart should be judged by more than just the swing of his sword.
He didn't have the words for what he believed. He just knew that to him, no creature of the sea or sky was beneath him for what it was born as. He hated the way his father spat on anyone not of their kin, not of their tongue or skin or land. And Hongjoong always kept silent when the men jested cruelly about what made a man a man — knowing in the pit of him that he was not what they wanted him to be. And would never be.
And now, standing above this broken merman, his father’s prize, Hongjoong felt that loneliness like a chain round his neck too. He should act. But here, he would be nothing but one more body for the sea.
The merman’s pain-filled gaze met Hongjoong's for the briefest moment, before his father grumbled, ''With me, son,''
Hongjoong followed him silently to the captain’s quarters.
The door closed behind them with a heavy thud that made his heart sink further.
His father poured himself a cup of rum, his broad back to Hongjoong.
“We fucking made it boy.”
Hongjoong could hear the wicked smile in it.
“I don’t understand,” he tried to keep his voice steady, his tone not too frightened, not too angry. “Why keep him like that? He’s hurt. He’s—he didn't even attack the crew.”
His father turned then, a glint of amusement—or disgust—in his eyes.
“Hurt? He’s merfolk. They don’t feel pain like we do. And if he does, good. The more broken it is, the more use it’ll be.”
Hongjoong’s stomach twisted.
“Use,” he echoed.
“Their tears.” his father took a long sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ve heard the rumors, lad. Those tears, when they fall into the water, they harden—turn to crystal. Rare as any jewel. Worth more than gold. And their song—if you can force it from them it draws ships to ruin. We’ll use him for both. Let him weep, let him sing. He’ll fill our coffers.”
“That’s not–honest,'' Hongjoong shook his head, ''The sea… the sea’s not ours to use like that. We shouldn’t—”
''Honest?'' his father’s face darkened in an instant. He crossed the room in two strides, towering over Hongjoong. “Spare me your soft heart, Joong. You think you know the sea? You know nothing. Merfolk are snotty filth. Born of the ocean’s blackest depths. They lure sailors to death. They mock the landfolk. The only good mer is the one chained at our feet, paying his debt to us.”
“But he didn’t do anything!” Hongjoong’s yelled despite himself. “He’s just—he’s just alive. Like we are.”
“You sound like your bloody mother.” his father sneered.The words felt like a slap. “You’ve got her weakness in you. But I’ll beat it out if I have to! Don’t let that thing’s pretty face fool you. Beneath it hides a monster waiting to drown you.”
Hongjoong’s heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to fight him. To scream. But the weight of his father’s gaze, the harshness in his voice—it pinned him down, left him chocking inside his own skin. As it always did.
“Now get out of my sight,” he ordered. “And stop questioning your blood. The sea is ours to take, and anything in it.”
Hongjoong left the cabin, with a fuse of rage and shame burning in his stomach.
And all he could see everywhere he stepped on the ship was the merman's face. Terrified. Exhausted.
Too paradisiacal for these chains.
*
The night air felt heavy with wet wood and the stink of the day’s violence.
Long after the crew’s laughter faded into snores, Hongjoong moved like a shadow below the deck, his bare feet silent on the worn planks.
He closed the door of the held carefully behind him.
The tank reeked of rot and salt, its water gone murky with blood. Hongjoong had to swallow hard before stepping closer. Inside, the merman was slumped against the glass like a man too drunk to keep upright, his cheek pressed to the wall as though it might cool his fever. Some strands of his silver hair knotted and dark with grime, stuck across his face. His tail was twisted awkwardly beneath him, her scales dull where blood smeared over them.
Hongjoong’s throat tightened painfully. He walked next to him and crouched low, pressing his palm to the glass. “Hey,” he whispered, voice shaking more than he meant it to. “Are you—do you understand me?”
For a breath, there was nothing.
Then, slowly, the merman's head lifted, heavy as if the weight of the world rested on it. His eyes found Hongjoong’s. Not wild. Not even hateful. Resigned. And still—still—so gentle.
“I understand,” he said softly, his voice was raw and ragged. “I can speak some of your tongue.”
Hongjoong froze. “You can… you can talk.”
His heart leapt into his throat. He had thought—he didn’t know what he had thought. That merfolk didn't speak?
A faint, sorrowful curve touched the merman's lips. “You are surprised.”
“I—yes. I mean—no. I don’t know.” Hongjoong swallowed hard, shame burning his cheeks. “I shouldn’t be, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for what they did.”
The merman’s lashes lowered, his hair veiling his face again. “Sorry will not change what I am to your kin.”
“You’re not cursed,” Hongjoong said fiercely. “They’re wrong. How could anyone like you be cursed?” The words tumbled out, low and desperate.
The merman didn’t answer. But something in his gaze softened, as if he had expected something else and found it missing.
Hongjoong hesitated, then leaned closer,“What’s your name?”
The merman blinked, clearly startled. His lips parted as if the question itself was foreign to him. For a moment, he simply stared, the chains creaking softly as he shifted, unsure.
“You… wish to know my name?” he asked, his voice etched by disbelief.
“Yes,” Hongjoong said, almost pleading. The merman seemed to search his face, as if weighing whether it was safe to give him this small piece of himself. Finally, he spoke, the word like the first note of a song carried on the wind.
“Seonghwa.”
Hongjoong let the name settle between them, soft on his tongue, “Seonghwa,” he repeated, as if memorizing it.
His gaze stopped at the tank again, the little water, the blood that floated in it like ink clouds.
Without thinking he stood and ran up on the deck. He grabbed the nearest rope, and climbed onto the rail. The sea a heaving, endless black beneath him. He let down a bucket on a line, and hauled it up, brimming with clean seawater.
One. Two. Three.
He returned to the held, balancing them on both his hands.
Each time he poured one of them in the tank, the filth thinned. The blood dispersed. The water brightened.
Seonghwa shivered as the fresh water washed over him. His gills fluttered, and he drew in a deeper breath. Hongjoong noticed some color finally returning to his face.
''May I–''
Hongjoong's hands were wet and trembling as he reached inside the tank. He untangled what chains he could, loosening them where they bit into Seonghwa’s wrists and his arms. His fingers brushed the merman’s skin—cool, soft, like silk drawn over muscle. The touch made his chest ache.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised. “I’ll bring more water. And I’ll—I’ll figure out something better.”
Seonghwa’s eyes glistened, not with tears, but with something quieter. Relief, maybe. Or hope? A fragile, dangerous thing.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.
“…Hongjoong.”
Seonghwa tried to smile, even though it soon crumbled.
“Then I will remember it.”
But morning carried a different fate.
The sky was still pale with the blush of dawn and the ship’s deck damp with sea mist, when Hongjoong’s father found him. His boots thudded solid against the planks, his shadow falling long in the dim light.
A heavy hand clapped down on Hongjoong’s shoulder. The grip was firm, almost too firm. Pride masked command in his father’s voice, as he spoke.
“Today’s the day, boy. Time you left this nest and built your own. No more living under my sails.'' Hongjoong stared at him, caught off guard, his heart throbbed, like holding a knife by the blade with both hands. Today? The word echoed in his chest. His gaze flicked toward the hatch that led below the deck.
''You’ll take a boat to the nearest port, commandeer yourself a proper ship, and find a crew worth their salt. I’ve arranged one man to go with you—he’ll see you started right. We’ll toast to your fortune before you go.”
“Today?” Hongjoong parroted, his voice thinner than he wanted.
“No better time eh?” his father's tone allowed no argument, as if the decision has long been made. “You turned 18 now. A captain makes his name young. And you—” he gave Hongjoong’s shoulder a squeeze that felt more like a hit than affection—“ You ought'a be ready. Don’t look back. The sea doesn’t wait for dreamers.”
There was something in his father’s eyes—harder than usual. As if the flickers of mercy Hongjoong had shown the day before had tipped some fragile balance.
As if this was the cure his father had chosen: to send him out, as quickly as possible.
Hongjoong opened his mouth—to question, to argue, to ask for a day longer even while staying in this ship has been a noose around his own throat since forever.
But his father's favorite line on the back of his mind made his words dry up.
Not your ship–not your saying.
He forced a nod, the knot against his throat tight and cutting.
“Aye. I’ll make you proud.”
His father grinned, and shook his head, “That’s my boy.”
As the crew readied Hongjoong's boat, the sails caught the wind, all he could think of was a silver broken tail, a quiet voice in the dark.
How he hadn't kept his promise.
How he hadn’t even said goodbye.
***
1 year later
They called him a prize. Α cursed thing. A monster.
But Seonghwa had never known such monsters as these men.
The tank — barely large enough for him to stretch — stank of old blood and rust.
Chains weighted his wrists, chafing the skin raw, and thicker links coiled around his tail, biting between his scales. An iron collar was always locked around his throat.
When they struck him, sharp and merciless, they laughed at his flinches, at the inky blue that colored the water.
They wanted his tears.
The first ones he shed, in confusion and terror, turned to small pale stones. The way they snatched them up, with greed burning in their eyes, haunted Seonghwa even when they finally banged the door of the held behind them.
He tried not to give them what they wanted. He bit down on every sound, held his breath until his chest burned, glared back at them through swollen eyes.They dragged blades across his scales, they twisted the chains tighter, and still he swallowed every cry. His silence enraged them more than screams ever could.
When silence wasn’t enough, he fought. He lashed out with the full force of his tail, cracking glass and flesh alike when he could. Once he snapped a man’s wrist between his shackles; another time, he nearly dragged one into the water with him, teeth sinking into the intruder’s arm until they beat him bloody to make him let go.
Every strike earned him worse punishment, but he refused to bow easily.
When they couldn’t make him sing, they beat him harder. They split his tail fins to the bone, and still he tried to hold the song in. His voice was sacred. Not destined to cause disaster. But they would have it —So they broke him piece by piece.
“Cry for me, sea rat.”
“Sing, or I’ll slice off those pretty fins.”
Seonghwa’s nights blurred into pain.
His days blurred into dread.
Hongjoong vanished the day after they met — no voice, no kind eyes at the edge of the tank. Back then a new terror took root in Seonghwa's chest. Had they discovered him? Had they killed him for trying to help?
The thought twisted in his chest, more suffocating than the walls of his prison.
Still, he hoped — hoped the sea would come for him, hoped for mercy from the depths.
2 years later
Hope drowned.
The tank was a dam of filth now. Thick enough to choke him. His silver tail was marred, his scales torn away in patches, revealing the vulnerable flesh beneath. His hair — once bright, shimmering — hung matted down his shoulders, plastered with muck and blood.
They learned how to force the song. Knives, barbs, heated metal pressed to his tail until his voice cracked out, wrong and full of agony. The song that once lulled tides now lured ships to ruin. And Seonghwa could feel it. The destruction he caused at their command weighed heavier than the chains.
Tears came easier. They found ways to draw them with less effort: starvation, threats, twists of blades where his wounds had barely closed.
“What’s left of your magic now?”
“A jewel a day — you’ll earn your keep, beast.”
Seonghwa no longer looked at them.
He stared up at the dark beams above — no sky, no light, only the weight of the ship pressing down — and still, he imagined the sea beyond, vast and endless, so far out of reach.
3 years later
He no longer remembered the ocean's warmth.
Only cold.
The tank: a liquid grave.
His body had grown thin — too thin. The old, rusty, chains bit into his bones, but the weight of them felt like nothing compared to the emptiness inside him.
His silver tail was scarred beyond recognition. The blue highlights dulled, but no longer hidden beneath grime and blood. The water was cleaner now. Changed more often. They scrubbed him too. Not out of kindness. But because they found more ways to use him. Seonghwa could see it unfolding — the way they looked at him, the way their hands touched as they cleaned him, as they chained him back, testing how far his spirit had truly broken.
He felt the shame down to his bones. Felt it every time their laughter echoed in the dark–their rough hands lingering where they had no right to. They forced themselves on him and he was nothing more than a useful thing for their pleasure– however and whenever they wanted.
His song was broken, but they made him do it when they wanted wreckage.
His tears came without effort now. He didn’t fight them — what was the point?
“Look at him. Pretty wreck. Not so proud now, are you?”
“Just a toy. That’s all it is.”
Seonghwa stopped answering. Stopped pleading. Stopped waiting.
He only lived because he couldn't die. They wouldn't let him.
But whatever they had set out to destroy — his soul, his will, his dignity — had been shattered long ago.
The ocean felt like a story he had once heard, ages ago, in another lifetime.
***
The Maritime Standard
Published in the Port of Busan,
17th Day of Summer,
Year of Our Lords 1713
YOUNG PIRATE CAPTAIN SINKS NAVY FLAGSHIP — THE SEAS TREMBLE UNDER THE CRIMSON TIDE
Citizens of the realm, mark this day with dread: the pirate menace known as The Crimson Tide by those few unfortunate enough to come across him— has struck a grievous blow to His Majesty’s fleet.
The HMS Valiant, pride of our Navy and scourge of pirates, was lost at sea under his guns and fury.
Under cover of darkness, his black-sailed vessel ambushed the Valiant, outmaneuvering and outgunning the ship famed for bringing pirates to justice.
Cannon fire lit the night as the Valiant burned, and its shattered hull slipped beneath the waves — a grim tomb for her loyal crew.
This marks the most audacious act yet in the pirate captain's bloody campaign.
Remember, readers: this is no longer the petty thief meddling where no one asked him to, snatching from the rich to feed the hungry.
In but three years, The Crimson Tide has torched colonies, seized gold-laden galleons, and now — most fearfully — vanquished a Navy ship tasked with ending his reign.
The Crown declares him enemy of the realm, traitor to the sea, and threat to all honest folk.
A bounty of two thousand gold coins is hereby offered for his capture, dead or alive.
Let every loyal sailor be warned: the new Pirate King rises.
And he shows no mercy.