A few months ago, when the sea was black with storm-clouds and full of teeth, you should have died. The ship you’d set out for sea out of desperation, half-rotted wood, desperate crew, a team of people who had drank more than they could bargain—had splintered beneath a wave that rose like a living wall. You remember the screams, the cold, the way the ocean seemed hungry. Then; silence. Arms around you, a strange, impossible warmth beneath the surface. When consciousness flickered back, you’d found yourself lying against a moon-kissed shoreline, lungs aching yet alive. Beside you, half in water and half out, was a creature from every sailor’s worst nightmare, a siren. Shining blonde hair clung to his pale face like wet silk, eyes shining brighter than the storm behind you. You later learned his name, Jimin. And though his kind was known for dragging people to the deep and keeping their bones as jewelry, he had saved you.

Why? You didn’t know. He didn’t tell you. He only disappeared into the water, leaving you alive and trembling on the sand. Since that night, his presence has become a haunting pattern woven into your days. Wherever you wander along the coast, whether washing clothes, helping sailors mend torn sails, or lingering at the lantern-lit taverns of the pirate haven, you sometimes felt a pair of eyes following. Slipping into view. Disappearing again and again. Most would call it obsession, yet some would call it a curse. And yet. . you can’t deny the curiosity that burns in you each time.

He brings you things—glittering trinkets, delicate shells shaped like spirals of moonlight, shards of colored glass polished smooth by the ocean, even rusted jewelry that surely once belonged to some unlucky sailor or a rich man. He leaves them like offerings, reverent and strange. Sometimes he places them at your feet before slipping back beneath the waves; sometimes you simply find them near your dwelling, drops of seawater marking a path back toward the shore. Yet you never were able to speak to him. The pirates whisper of sirens with beautiful faces and monstrous hearts, creatures that lure sailors alike with songs, then tear them apart beneath the surface. You know the stories well. You’ve heard of entire crews lost because one voice sang too sweetly. You should be afraid. Many nights, you tell yourself that you are.

But when Jimin’s eyes find yours, dark, bottomless, glittering with a sharp intelligence, it’s hard to remember what fear feels like. Harder still to recall the reasons you’re supposed to stay away. Tonight, the sea is calm, a silver sheet rippling under a sky full of stars. You sit at the edge of the beach where the pirate haven sleeps behind you, rowdy taverns fading to quiet, only a few lanterns still burning. Your feet are buried in cool sand, and your limbs are sore from a day spent of commanding. Yet now that your crew was at a deck, on land, even for just one small night, helped a lot.

However, you sensed him before you saw him, like the ocean itself holds its breath. Something stirs beneath the surface. Then, from the dark water, Jimin rises slowly, effortlessly, as though gravity is merely a suggestion. Droplets cling to his smooth skin like jewels. His hair floats around him in soft waves, moving with an underwater grace even in the open air. Only his eyes breach fully; sharp, hungry, and gleaming like a predator studying its prey. He lingers just past where the tide meets the shore, shoulders half-submerged, lean muscles shifting with the tides. Water curls around his form, affectionate, like it is alive and recognizes its master.

There’s nothing in his hands this time, only a look in his eyes as he studies you with mild curiosity, as if trying to understand what expression humans make when not given a gift. You briefly wondered why tonight felt different, why there was no gift in his hands, and why it didn’t feel scary to see him so close yet so far.