Chapter Text
When you’re born as a creature tailored for a singular task, your existence revolves solely around fulfilling that duty. Though you have a family, they too are bound by the same fate. You find yourself alone in your yearning to escape a destiny they have long since accepted and resigned themselves to.
This was the existence of Park Seonghwa, a siren whose heart yearned for a life beyond the confines of the waves. What would it be like to walk among mortals? That question haunted Seonghwa, especially on the nights when he escaped to the shore, drawing tiny pictures in the sand, just like tonight. Seonghwa slowly dragged his heavy, limp tail onto the sand, resting on the shoreline as he gazed out at the tranquil water. The siren always admired the way the moon and the stars reflected on its surface, like nature’s own mirror. It almost looked as if it were sparkling in their subtle light.
He let out a heavy sigh as he wrote his name into the sand beneath him with a small star beside it, aware that the tide would erase it by morning. In a way, the fleeting act was liberating, as if the erasure of his name symbolically washed away his identity, providing him with a rare moment where he could simply exist without being defined by who, or rather what he was.
It was such a peaceful night. Seonghwa silently wished he could pause time and live in this moment forever, where there was nothing plaguing his mind. The life he wished for could only ever exist in a utopia, though. These were the only moments where he truly enjoyed singing: completely alone, where no one could hear his voice—a place where he didn’t lure even a single fish.
However, the siren wasn’t exactly alone. Kim Hongjoong, captain of a ship by the name of UTOPIA, was not far when the siren’s song filled the night’s silence. He knew better than anyone never to give in to this creature’s deadly harmonies, but it was far too late to stop himself. The pirate had only recently returned from a tiring journey across the seas; surely he could blame his behaviour on his exhaustion, yet at the same time, he was only out because he couldn’t sleep. He had no excuses for this lapse in judgment. He was captivated, not only by the siren’s bewitching voice, but also by its beauty: its wet, midnight black hair mirrored the night sky, and the way it glistened reminded him of the stars above them. In such a trance-like state, it was hard to discern whether it was the song or his thoughts leading him astray.
It was an ethereal being. The captain had always heard of the beauty of these creatures, but everyone always cautioned him about the effects of their gorgeous voices. No one prepared him to be entranced by their physical beauty too. For the first time in his journey as a pirate, he was speechless.
The siren’s voice stopped just as Hongjoong’s feet touched the sand. Both of them froze completely still, unwilling to make even the slightest movement. The creature made no effort to see who was approaching.
The pirate in Hongjoong knew he should seize the opportunity to kill and sell the thing and make a pretty penny, but that wasn’t what he wanted to do. A huge part of him felt guilty that his first instinct was to harm such a beautiful creature, but he knew that if he mentioned this to anyone, they’d remind him that was likely the siren’s first thought too.
Hongjoong didn’t believe that, though. If that was the case, why did it stop singing when it heard him? Why were they both on the sand, met with complete and utter silence?
That moment of silence was finally broken when the siren began slipping back into the water. For a second, Hongjoong panicked. He didn’t want to see it leave, not like this. Was he falling right into its trap, allowing it to lure him closer to the water? Before he fully realized what he was doing, his feet were already carrying him straight towards the creature. When he reached the water’s edge, the siren glanced back at him, and Hongjoong was stunned. He felt as though he might lose himself in its dark, captivating eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” the words left the captain’s mouth faster than he could even register them; though, it didn’t mean his words were any less genuine.
The siren didn’t offer him a verbal reply; it simply stared at him with a small look of surprise before vanishing into the water. Hongjoong tried to watch it leave, but the dark water made it difficult to follow. Questions started flooding his head: why didn’t it hurt him? Wasn’t that what sirens were supposed to do? Instead, it seemed more frightened of him than he was of it. The pirate remained where he stood, his gaze dropping to his feet; that’s when he noticed the writing in the sand, still untouched by the calm water.
“Seonghwa…” he muttered to himself.
Hongjoong believed he’d never see that siren again, but this was just the beginning: where hearts and worlds collided in ways they were never meant to.
Seonghwa returned to the grotto within his small pack’s island that night in a state of disarray. He felt weak—not because he hadn’t completed the job like a typical siren would, but because of how things had unfolded. The mortal had approached him so effortlessly, with not a single ounce of hesitation in each step, and wasn’t afraid to chase after him when he started to leave. Was it the song that had lured him in? If it was, it certainly hadn’t seemed like it. That was not your typical enchanted behaviour.
As he submerged himself in the water, he attempted to wash away these thoughts, but he couldn’t rid himself of them. Under the influence of a siren’s song, a mortal typically compliments the siren’s voice. It is their greatest weapon, after all, and it is undoubtedly beautiful. Despite this, that’s not what the human took from the situation. He called Seonghwa beautiful. Not his voice, but him.
Although Seonghwa was born a creature often labelled as “deadly but gorgeous,” he never saw himself that way. In fact, he didn’t believe he possessed either of those traits. Climbing out of the water and onto the rocks in the grotto, he glanced down at his reflection, trying—even for just a moment—to see what that man had seen in him.
Beauty wasn’t necessary when all you needed was your voice, so why did those words weigh so heavily on his mind? The compliment reverberated in his head, lingering far longer than it should have. It all felt so trivial, fretting over the opinion of someone he’d never see again, but oh, to be seen as beautiful.
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
The next day, despite the long journey he had endured, Hongjoong boarded his ship with his head held high. In his eyes, you didn’t always need a destination to set sail. With his crew, whether serious or spontaneous, every adventure became unforgettable. They weren’t a large group per se, but they were what he could only describe as a family: Hongjoong, the captain; Yunho, the quartermaster; Yeosang, the helmsman; San, their master-at-arms; and Jongho, the boatswain. Each person had an important role to play, and together, they made a wonderful team.
Yeosang and Jongho stood at the wheel, conversing quietly out of earshot. Hongjoong leaned against the railing at the edge of the boat, gazing out across the sea. He had hoped that a good night’s rest would make him forget about the siren and their encounter, but the thought lingered as if it was tattooed in his mind.
Yunho approached and wrapped an arm around the captain’s shoulders. Hongjoong wasn’t usually easy to read, but if anyone could, it was his quartermaster.
“What’s up with you? You seem a little off today,” Yunho asked, not expecting a very detailed answer.
“Nothing. I think I’m just tired,” Hongjoong replied just as expected. You could poke and prod, but he typically brushed off these kinds of questions. That’s just how he was. “We had a lengthy trip.”
Although the quartermaster knew better, he chose to let it go. If it was going to affect the crew, he’d say something. If it wasn’t important enough for Hongjoong to mention, then it couldn’t have been that big of a deal, right? It wasn’t like they had much time to dwell on the thought before a voice called out to them.
“Captain! Over here, look!” San hollered, gesturing for Hongjoong to come to his side of the ship, pointing over towards a rock sticking out of the water with a vague figure on top of it. At first, Hongjoong wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see, squinting his eyes to get a clearer look. But then—wait, no. It couldn’t be. That was…
“A siren,” Yeosang unknowingly completed Hongjoong’s thoughts for him. That was the same siren Hongjoong had seen the night before—the one that had been haunting his mind ever since.
He didn’t think he’d ever see it again, but there it was, right before his very eyes. It was even prettier in the daylight, with the sun shining down on it. The captain knew there were only two things that could possibly be on his crew’s minds: either kill it, or run away from it.
Hongjoong didn’t want to do either of those things—quite the opposite, actually. He wanted to get closer to it; he wanted to talk to it. He didn’t want it to run away from him again.
He couldn’t find the words. He simply stood at the side of the ship, his expression nothing short of gobsmacked. Of course, his crew had no idea of the true reason why. There was no way they could have known; their captain was very particular with his words and would never let something like that slip so easily.
Yet, despite everything, he still found his way back to this siren. Perhaps it was fate playing games with him, teasing him for his weakness last night. Was this his second chance to act like a real pirate captain, instead of hesitating because of its beauty? A baker doesn’t hesitate to cut the bread. A pirate captain shouldn’t hesitate to kill their enemy.
“I say we go after it,” Yunho interrupted his thoughts. “It’s completely silent; it doesn’t see us coming. It’s a perfect opportunity that even we can’t pass up.”
Hongjoong took a deep breath, processing Yunho’s words. He didn’t want this, and if his quartermaster was set on the idea, perhaps it made Yunho a more worthy captain. Yunho never hesitated the way Hongjoong did now.
“We follow it then. Yeosang!” Hongjoong spoke with a boldness that didn’t feel like it came from his own body, as if the persona of a captain were speaking for him.
“On it, Captain!”
And so, the crew of UTOPIA set forth to follow the siren as it dived back into the water, determined to make a bold attempt. Killing sirens wasn’t easy—they were intelligent and quick, and while Hongjoong didn’t doubt that this one possessed those traits, it felt different. He wanted to understand more about this one and why it seemed to behave the way it did.
Hongjoong also knew his crew and understood their reactions. They saw an opportunity: weak prey, an easy catch, and easy money. He knew this because it was his first thought when he initially saw the creature. Yet, when he was standing right in front of it, when their eyes met, he couldn’t see it that way. He couldn’t finish the job, which made him feel like the weak one. In Hongjoong’s mind, this siren wasn’t weak at all; it was taunting him.
As it slowly became harder and harder to see the siren, the crew unfortunately began relying on Hongjoong’s unique blend of desperation and instinct, letting the captain tell them where to go. They trusted him to lead them the right way, no matter how strange it sounded. He always came through for them; why would this time be any different?
They were near a remote island when they fully lost sight of the siren within the darkness of the water beneath them. The setting sun over the horizon didn’t aid in their search at all. The time they’d spent following the siren had flown past them so quickly, it was a little startling.
“Let’s stop here for the night,” Hongjoong declared, looking at his crewmates. “We’ll anchor the ship at the edge of this island, rest up, and look for it at dawn.”
“Are you sure? It gives the creature more time,” Yunho expressed his worries. “We don’t want it to get more distance.”
Hongjoong shook his head, confidence radiating off him. “I’m certain it stopped near here. It’s somewhere around this island, we can start looking with fresh eyes when we’re rested and clear-headed.”
“...Right. Yeosang, Jongho! You heard the captain, we’re anchoring at the edge of the island!” Yunho declared, despite his own doubts. He didn’t want to overthink Hongjoong’s words, not only as his captain but as his friend.
“Yes, sir!” The helmsman and boatswain said in unison, following their orders.
As they docked, Hongjoong stared out at the island. It felt so deserted, so empty, but he knew the siren he longed for was here. It felt like it was pulling him in, leading him here, but he could have been a little bit delusional.
What would he even say if he saw it again? That very question haunted him through the rest of the evening, even after his entire crew had dozed off for the night. It was keeping him up, plaguing his mind and leaving him restless. Hongjoong got up out of his bed, rubbing his eyes as he left his quarters. When he stepped out onto the deck, the cool breeze hit him immediately. It was colder than he thought it would be on a late summer’s night.
Without thinking much about it, he leapt off the ship, his boots hitting the sand in near silence. If they were going to find this siren, it was going to be him and him alone. He made this decision long before they arrived to this island. Hongjoong didn’t want to risk finding it with the rest of his crew—he didn’t want to imagine what they’d try to do before he could get a word in.
The captain walked along the shoreline, the gentle sounds of the waves keeping his mind calm. He wasn’t sure if he would see the siren tonight, but it didn’t hurt to have hope. His eyes rested on his feet, watching the placement of each step. The pattern was soothing. Left, right, left. He wasn’t sure why he was keeping such close track, perhaps as a way to feel in control, to make order of something he didn’t truly understand.
Hongjoong walked a good distance away from the ship before his head raised, and in the not too far distance, he saw it. The siren he’d been searching for this entire time. There it was, only a few meters away. He froze, heart hammering, his breath catching in his throat.
His feet picked up quick, running toward it without so much as a thought. He nearly buried his feet in the sand when he stopped short, skidding to a halt just a few steps away from the figure he had longed to find. The silence between them rang louder than cannon fire. And in that moment, everything—the sea, the stars, even his own crew—faded away.
It was just them. The siren he desired, and that heavy feeling in Hongjoong’s chest.