Chapter Text
The ocean had always been a world of its own.
Far beneath the glittering surface, where sunlight broke into ribbons of gold and scattered across the coral gardens, the kingdom of the merfolk flourished in a beauty that no human could ever truly imagine. Palaces carved from pearl rose between towering reefs. Schools of fish moved like clouds through the water, and the songs of the sea carried through the currents, weaving themselves into the very heartbeat of the kingdom.
It was a world of magic, ancient traditions, and unspoken promises.
A world where every merfolk child was taught to respect the ocean, to fear the dangers of the surface, and to remember that the human world was not a place meant for them.
Zhang Shuaibo had never been particularly good at remembering that last part.
From the moment he was old enough to swim beyond the palace gardens, he had been fascinated by the world above. While other young merfolk collected shells or raced through the coral tunnels, Shuaibo spent his days searching for things that had fallen from ships—broken glass that caught the sunlight, strange metal objects, pieces of painted wood, and scraps of fabric that carried the faintest traces of a world he had never touched.
To him, every human object was a little piece of a story.
And every story made him wonder what else was waiting beyond the waves.
"You're staring at the surface again."
Shuaibo didn't turn around. He was floating near the edge of a rocky cliff, his fingers loosely curled around a small brass compass he had found that morning.
Beside him, JL swam closer, his expression already carrying the familiar look of someone who knew he was about to have a very exhausting conversation.
"I'm not staring," Shuaibo replied.
JL glanced at the surface.
Then at Shuaibo.
"You're doing that thing where you stare at the surface and pretend you're not staring at the surface."
Shuaibo finally looked at him. "Is there a difference?"
"Apparently not, because you've been doing it for the past hour."
Shuaibo smiled faintly and returned his gaze to the shimmering water above them.
The ocean was calm today. Sunlight poured through the surface, making the world above appear almost unreal. Sometimes, when the waves were still enough, Shuaibo could see the faint outline of the sky—a vast, endless blue that seemed to stretch farther than anything he had ever known.
He wondered what it would feel like to stand beneath it.
Not swim beneath it.
Stand.
To feel the ground beneath his feet. To walk through a forest without being carried by currents. To hear the rain without it becoming a thousand little disturbances in the water.
To breathe air.
"Do you ever wonder what it's like up there?" Shuaibo asked quietly.
JL sighed.
"Here we go."
"I'm serious."
"I know. That's the problem."
Shuaibo turned the compass over in his hands. Its needle trembled uselessly beneath the glass, unable to find its direction in the water.
"Do you think humans look at the ocean and wonder about us?"
JL considered the question for a moment.
"Maybe."
"Do you think they wonder if we're real?"
"Probably."
"Do you think they—"
"Shuaibo." JL reached over and gently pushed the compass down before Shuaibo could drop it. "I think humans are strange, dangerous, and probably very bad at swimming."
Shuaibo laughed.
JL grinned, pleased with himself, but his expression softened when he noticed that Shuaibo's eyes had already drifted back toward the surface.
"You know Ten won't like it if he finds you out here again."
At the mention of the king, Shuaibo's smile faded a little.
King Ten had never been cruel. In fact, Shuaibo knew that his father's sternness came from a place of love. The ocean was vast, and its dangers were real. There were shipwrecks, storms, hunters, and humans who would never hesitate to hurt what they did not understand.
But love could become a cage when it was wrapped too tightly around someone.
And Shuaibo had begun to feel the bars.
"He doesn't have to know," Shuaibo muttered.
JL stared at him.
"That is exactly what you said the last time."
"And he didn't find out."
"He found out."
"Eventually."
"Shuaibo!"
Shuaibo burst into laughter, swimming away before JL could grab his arm.
For a moment, they were only two young merfolk racing through the open water, their laughter mingling with the distant songs of the kingdom. The sunlight followed them through the currents, and the ocean seemed endless.
But even as Shuaibo laughed, a familiar ache settled quietly in his chest.
He loved his home.
He loved the palace, the coral gardens, the warmth of his family, and the sound of the kingdom waking each morning. He loved the ocean in all its colors and moods.
Yet somewhere beyond it, there was a world he could not stop imagining.
And the more he imagined it, the harder it became to ignore the feeling that a part of him was waiting for something he had not yet found.
~~~
Far above the kingdom, the human world moved beneath a sky that Shuaibo could only dream of touching.
There were cities filled with lights, forests where the wind moved through the trees, and ships that traveled across the ocean carrying people toward places they had never seen.
Among those people lived a young prince named Park Han.
Han had been born into a life of privilege, raised within the tall stone walls of a seaside palace overlooking the vast, restless ocean. The palace stood upon a cliff, its pale towers catching the morning sunlight and its windows reflecting the shifting blues of the sea. From his earliest days, he had been taught the duties that came with his title—how to carry himself before nobles, how to listen during council meetings, and how to one day rule with wisdom and kindness.
Yet, for all the lessons and expectations placed upon him, Han's favorite place was not the throne room, the royal library, or even the grand gardens where the royal family often entertained their guests.
It was the shore.
Whenever his lessons ended and his royal tutors finally allowed him a moment of freedom, Han would slip away toward the sea. Sometimes he walked along the cliffs, watching the waves crash against the rocks below. Other times, he wandered barefoot across the sand, allowing the cool water to wash over his feet as he searched for shells, smooth stones, and pieces of driftwood left behind by the tide.
The sea fascinated him in a way he could never quite explain.
His tutors often reminded him that a prince ought to spend his time preparing for the responsibilities of the crown. His father spoke frequently of diplomacy and leadership, while his mother gently encouraged him to understand the people he would one day serve.
Han listened. He tried to be the prince they hoped he would become.
But whenever he stood before the ocean, watching its endless horizon, he found himself wondering what existed beyond the borders of his kingdom.
There were days when he imagined distant lands hidden beyond the waves—kingdoms with unfamiliar customs, forests untouched by human hands, and people whose lives were nothing like his own. He wondered whether the sea carried stories from those places, whether every shell had once rested upon a shore he had never seen.
Sometimes, he would sit for hours with his knees drawn to his chest, listening to the waves as though they might answer him.
"You're going to wear a path into the sand if you keep coming here," Jeongwoo once remarked, finding Han seated near the water after another long afternoon of lessons.
Han glanced up, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Then at least I'll have something of my own."
Jeongwoo laughed and settled beside him. "You have an entire palace."
"I know."
"And servants who practically chase you whenever you leave without telling anyone."
"I know that, too."
"Then what exactly are you missing, Your Highness?"
Han turned his gaze toward the horizon.
For a moment, he said nothing.
"I'm not sure," he admitted quietly. "I just feel like there's something out there I've never seen. Something I haven't found yet."
Jeongwoo followed his gaze, though the only thing stretching before them was the endless blue of the sea.
"Well," he said, nudging Han's shoulder, "if you ever find it, try not to get yourself killed searching for it. I'd rather not explain to the king why I let his only son drown chasing a pretty view."
Han laughed, the sound carried away by the wind.
"I'll try to remember that."
But even as they returned to the palace that evening, Han found himself looking back at the water.
He did not know that somewhere beneath those waves, another boy was looking toward the same distant horizon.
He did not know that the sea, which had always felt like a quiet companion, would one day bring someone into his life who would change everything.
For now, he was simply Park Han—a prince who belonged to the land, yet whose heart had always been drawn to the sea.
~~~
Neither Han nor Shuaibo knew that their worlds were already moving toward one another, that the ocean, which had kept their lives separate for so long, was about to become the place where everything changed.
And neither knew how much it would cost to cross the distance between them.
The first time Shuaibo saw the ship, he thought it was a floating palace.
It moved across the water with enormous white sails, cutting through the waves as though the ocean itself had opened a path for it. The vessel was unlike anything Shuaibo had ever seen up close, and his excitement was immediate.
He swam toward it before he could think better of the decision.
Behind him, JL called his name.
"Shuaibo! Don't you dare!"
Shuaibo ignored him.
He had only meant to take a quick look.
Just a few minutes.
Just long enough to see the strange creatures moving across the deck, to hear the unfamiliar sounds, to catch a glimpse of the world he had spent his entire life imagining.
He never intended to get close enough for anyone to see him.
But then he heard laughter.
It was a bright, human sound, carried across the water by the wind.
Shuaibo surfaced just enough to peer over the edge of the waves.
And there, standing near the ship's railing, was a young man with dark hair tousled by the breeze.
Shuaibo did not know his name.
He did not know anything about him—not where he came from, what he dreamed about, or why he was smiling so gently at the ocean.
All Shuaibo knew was that, for one strange moment, the world seemed to grow very still.
The young man leaned over the railing, watching the water.
At the sudden movement Shuaibo quickly ducked beneath the surface, shielding his body from the boy's line of sight.
His heart was beating far too fast.
He told himself it was only excitement.
Only the thrill of being so close to the human world.
Only the surprise of seeing a human so clearly for the first time.
But when he resurfaced a little farther away, he found himself looking for the young man again.
And when he finally caught another glimpse of him, Shuaibo forgot entirely about the compass tucked safely in his hand.
He forgot about JL's warnings.
He forgot about the king's rules.
For the first time, the human world was no longer just a distant place filled with impossible dreams.
It had a face.
And somehow, without knowing why, Shuaibo had the unsettling feeling that he would remember it for the rest of his life.
The ocean continued to move beneath him, vast and indifferent, carrying the ship toward the horizon.
Above, the sky stretched endlessly beyond his reach.
And somewhere between the two worlds, a story began—not with a promise, nor with a spell, but with a single glance that neither of them understood.
A glance that would one day ask them both what they were willing to sacrifice for love.
Because the sea could keep secrets for centuries.
It could hide treasures, swallow ships, and bury the memories of those who dared to cross it.
But there was one thing even the ocean could never promise.
That a heart, once awakened, would ever be content to remain where it had always belonged.