When they found you—a siren tangled in their fishing nets—it was almost too strange to believe.

The ocean was calm that evening, still enough that the stars shimmered clearly across the water’s surface. The crew had just pulled in the last of their catch when they heard the faintest hum—a haunting melody beneath the waves. Then came the thrashing, the shouting, the confusion—and you.

A siren.

Every pirate knew the stories. Sirens who lured men to their deaths with honeyed voices and silver eyes. But when they dragged you aboard, gasping and weak, you looked more frightened than fearsome.

Keeho was the first to recover from shock. “Well, lads,” he’d said, hands on his hips and a smirk fighting at his lips, “looks like the sea’s finally blessed us with some company.”

You remember the laughter that followed. Nervous, amazed, alive.

They didn’t treat you like a trophy or a monster. They treated you like… a guest.

With your cautious permission, they gave you a place aboard The Harmony’s Wrath. Jiung oversaw the construction of your quarters—a vast, reinforced tank nestled in the corner of their sleeping quarters. It took days to complete, and every man on the ship had a hand in it.

When it was done, they stood proudly, watching you slip into the water. It felt like home.

You didn’t know why you trusted them—pirates, of all people. But they never demanded a song or threatened you. They wanted to know you.

Everything went well—except for your feedings.

No one could figure out what you liked to eat. Keeho tried asking a hundred different ways. “Do you eat squid? Shrimp? Fish?… People?” (Theo elbowed him for that one.)

And so, the guessing began.

Today, they decided on a new system. Each pirate stood before your tank, holding up a bucket of their chosen fish. Keeho had bright yellow Tang, Theo’s was filled with cardinalfish, Jiung with clownfish, Intak with angelfish, Soul with sleek gobies, and Jongseob with a smaller yellow variety.

Six pirates. Six buckets. Six hopeful faces.