Chapter Text
His age was of 25 years when he sent himself as a seafarer in replacement of his father who fell ill from traversing through the vastness of the ocean for almost two decades. Jihoon, with high hopes of pursuing bounties to keep their family at sail has no disapproval of such thought.
Although he had to admit that his knowledge of what lies forth is not of great amount, after all he has only worked as a fisherman all throughout the years. His father, a bearded man, a carouser as described by the crew, defied his aims of getting into ships for voyage. His father thinks he won’t last long.
He remembers what he has told him way back his younger days, that he dreams of sailing through the seven seas, searching for the biggest treasure rumored around their island. Gold, pennies, jewelries, call the fortune any name you want it to be, surely having a grasp on such booty would mean a lifetime spent with luxury, but his father shakes his head.
“It ain’t the rough waves, nor the stormy nights that we ‘came afraid of out there. Dead men often tell no tales at all but it’s hard to believe that there are far more things that stir yer fears underneath the azure horizon, ain’t easy to empathize with ‘em tales since men who gets 'em chances to see, they never return. They become feeds for fishes, ye know? But trust me, lad, yer ass would be shakin’ if ye came across such fables. I don’t want my boy to see what he might regret.”
It was no use to ask his father regarding those stories either. He kept his mouth shut every time he comes home with a bulgy loot of good ol’ pennies, along with the maritime discussions of pillaging a warship they have come to defeat.
Now his father was an old salt, lying on his bed when he comes to him for a blessing before he go on account. He recalls how his father, although not disappointed per se, obviously sank down on the duvet of his nest with a scoff. He didn’t want his only son to take after his steps, but he sees the determination in Jihoon’s eyes, his hopes of continuing the legacy established by his father, the hope to keep their family going, and his father has been reminded of how rough it was when he first asked his father about it too.
With no other choice, he hands the lad his former rum bottle, along with a golden compass he had found from one of his embarked journeys from his younger days. There was a pat on Jihoon’s back, before he was engulfed in what felt like a bear hug.
“I promise, pops, I’ll find my way back home no matter how rough the tides may be. I'll come home and bring you treasure, just like what you came home with before.”
He trusts his son.
But he never trusted the sea.
“Fair enough, just be careful, aye? The ocean holds a lot of danger within its arms. Not only pirates and fishermen go forth. Maybe mysteries and legends lie hidden for you to be discovered. It only takes courage and hope that ye don’t get yerself killed while lookin for 'em, kid.”
When Jihoon strides to exit his room, his father calls him up again, because there is no guarantee that he’ll get home, take it from him who almost drowned out there. The luck out there is not the same with how it works for those that struggle on the lands. A dead body is nothing but a set of bones sinking in the ocean floor, never to be found again. He might not be the best pops, but he prays inside that he gets to see his son come home safe again.
“When ye hear good ol’ songs within the mist, cover yer ears, close yer eyes. No matter what happens, don’t follow ‘em voices, yeah?”
He doesn't pay attention to what that might mean, and his father mouths an 'I love you' as to which the lad responded with his warmest smile.
“I love you, pops. Be well while I’m gone.”
Better to say it now, than to never say it at all.
He wasn’t unfamiliar of his father's crewmates. He met them a few times through his popsy’s drinking expeditions in town, as to where he had tagged along for a few times. Nevertheless, he was opened with warm smiles. It was a shame that his father has to go off now, but he was trusted enough that he’ll be of great help considering his strong built. He trusts that his experience in fishing for a few years and being on boats will pay off.
Or not.
Because during his first few months abode, he finds himself vomiting his gut’s content, like this one afternoon that the waves are hitting their ship a bit rough, shaking their places just a bit, but for Jihoon it was more than enough to lose his balance. He gets so dizzy and he’s not going to deny that. He has to remind himself, a boat and a ship are two different things.
He's still not used to it, add the fact the he also misses home.
There was a heavy hand on his back, roughly patting him while he hears them laugh. He finds himself chuckling over how stupid he might have looked.
Man, those are just waves, I ain’t giving up my way of living now, am I?
It made him earn a new nickname from his folks.
“We got a new landlubber, e? Is fine, kid. We’re all like that during our first time sailing,” said Bill, one of their boatswains. He wipes his mouth using the hem of his shirt as he sits on the wooden panels of the ship. Their captain, Dirty Dane as they call him, was looking at him with a fond smile on his lips.
“Yer going to be fine, lassie. Yer gon’ get yer groove soon enough.”
His first few years of expedition with the Maine (the name of the ship, as told by Cap’n Dirty Danny) was spent with him going on for lookouts at the ship’s crow’s nest, or him having to clean the filthy bilgewater from below. He has to agree that the latter one was disgusting, having to clean that sucks big time. Being on lookout ain’t that good enough either, as he spends his hours standing under the heat of the sun, drenched in his sweat and burning from its rays.
However he likes it, smelling the sea through his nostrils, catching sights of the dolphins and whales that occasionally swims across them sometimes.
He hasn’t seen any danger yet. He draws a conclusion that he’s taken a likeness for the vast azure world for now.
Few months prior to his first days in the Maine that another pirate ship had crossed their paths, a “bloody hell” coming from Jihoon’s throat when he spotted their flag from a distance. The ship was smaller than theirs, but it didn’t stop the seafarers to try seizing the Maine. And nobody ever wanted to give up their fights in the sea.
Jihoon suffered from a swollen, lower lip torn from a punch, and a purple bruise forming around his left eye but he can’t hide his grin. He’s happy that the Maine wasn’t taken away and they are not to serve a whole another captain (who, he says, will probably make them lick their damned footwear because some pirates have ego as big as a king’s).
Sailing through the deepest of the night, he hears the cheers of his crewmates, singing their chantey loud in the air. The ship that attacked them, the Expedition, steered away empty handed earlier. Their supplies were hoarded by Jihoon’s folks and they had no choice but to dock on the nearest island to reload their supplies.
The taste of rum on his tongue was as sweet as their victory, now they wouldn’t worry about their life in the sea for a few months. As a present for his own, his eyes sparkle at the dagger he had snatched from the one he fought against.
Well getting punched is worth it after all.
He closes his eyes and feels the cool breeze when he feels another presence beside him at the ship’s helm. He turned to look at it and saw one of the crew’s eldest man, Hansen O’Dollie.
“How’re ye doin’, matey?” he asked, a mug of rum in his hand while he looks out on the darkness.
“Truthfully, never felt this good in a while.”
Hansen hummed in response, nudging Jihoon’s elbow with his own.
On the nights that he had feel lost, old Hansen has been his pillar of support, often guiding him with the work that goes around the quarters and the myths and mysteries circling around the seafaring. At this point, he probably knows the story about Davy Jones by heart. He has been told about the legends of Calypso (and the tale of how bringing home a proof with an encounter with the sea goddess is to be rewarded with a great bounty, but as you guessed it, most of them went home with nothing at all).
“Ye know, lad, yer pops wasn’t afraid of ‘em legends. He didn’t really believe that much, e. Unless his two eyes had seen, he won’t admit his fears.”
True to his words, neither Jihoon or his father really had showed vulnerability even when met with such horror. He never underestimates himself either, for if he sees one that he fears the most, he’d probably lost his shit too.
“But people of the Maine, them fear stemmed from sea nymphs, ye know? Err, yer pops was the one been terrified the most by those.”
As he has been told that night, through the course forth Sicily, there’s an island rumored to be a cursed one. From what they have gathered from other pirates that come along that way, it was an island of the fallen muses that sing of great loneliness and deception, often luring sailors to be their companion, as they are not to leave the premises of the waters surrounding that area. And rumor has it that in the heart of the island lies a treasure chest a lot has dared to seize, only to be never found again.
Old Hansen reminded him that it is dangerous to hear their voices or even bat an eye at those creatures, for that to be avoided, beeswax were often used as earplugs to drown any sound away. Nobody knows what they look like. Nobody wanted to know.
Nobody was ever brave enough to go.
All throughout the journey of the Maine, it has only coursed through Sicily once. However, due to unforeseen storms and hurricanes, their original plans were submerged and has no other direction to turn to but to a risky path. (Although reckless, Jihoon has been told by his cap’n he’s afraid the sails would be shredded and theirs masts won’t last long if they chose the original course of their voyage.)
Leaving the main duties to those who can handle it better, Jihoon spends his night in is quarters, playing with the newest knife he had plundered. He swears hearing Hansen and Gregory scream something about the path being “too misty” or “too dark”, but it faded away in the distance.
It feels off.
He hops off from his hammock and strides towards the helm of their ship. Indeed it was too dark. Even by looking up, it seems that the night sky ain’t visible at all. As if they are enveloped by velvet cloaks of the night: it feels eerie.
There was a humming in the distance that sounds too sweet for Jihoon, until it gradually gets louder. He guesses that the maiden, or whoever it may be that possess such voice is not that far. He stands still, unsure of what to do because his mind is being filled with nothing but the song, all other thoughts being wiped clean like a slate.
It’s beckoning him to come close.
He walks to the edge of the ship, humming with the voice that sings of him about finding a love that suffices for lifetimes. He can hear it clearer here.
It seems lonely.
His heart constricts in pain when he hears the voice sing about helplessness, of how not being able to find the one it yearns for had cost its soul to be trapped in a loop of never ending desire to be embraced, to have someone that slips away when it grasps their warm figures.
Jihoon closes his eyes. He doesn’t know of such song from the maiden that performed in the cabins he frequented to before. No one has sang such sweet song in his lifetime, and he feels himself longing to follow that voice, kiss the living daylights out of its owner, save the soul from the trap of pain from being alone for centuries.
When he opens his eyes, he’s standing waist deep in the black waters, grounded beneath the sand by the kelps that entangle each of his ankle. He doesn’t take notice.
Because his eyes are glued to the half-naked muse sitting on the giant rocks, with golden scaly tails that reflect the light of the moon from above, its eyes were glued to him, drowning him. Its lips are luscious, singing a song of finding the sailor meant for it. It opens his arms, welcoming him to take a step forward, to wrap such beauty in his embrace.
The voice tell him its name was Hyunsuk, the muse of songs of love and devotion that are hidden away, forgotten.
I know exactly what your heart desires of.
His chest constricts.
Come closer, Jihoon.
It hurts.
Closer to me, my love.
He can’t look away, even when the voices behind him tell to.
Even when the voices tell him to cover his ears.
For when he blinks, he was underwater with an unfamiliar palm on his cheek. Clawed talons sinking through his skin, bruising him. The stench of blood through his nostrils are flaring it up, but he focuses on the creature in front of him.
He thinks it still looks beautiful even with its sharp teeth and cold blooded stare, vertical slits on each side of its mouth appearing like gills. Hyunsuk, he whispers in his mind.
Did he hear Hyunsuk snarl at him?
He fails to answer as he succumbs to darkness.