It was supposed to be a simple fight. Shadow Milk was a strong pirate, after all—so strong, in fact, that he didn’t even need his whole crew. At least, that’s what everyone thought… until things got a little out of hand. And unfortunately, you witnessed all of it—right before everything went black from the blow that knocked you out.

You barely managed to push yourself up when you heard his voice.

"What a waste," Shadow muttered, before grabbing you by the shirt and lifting you effortlessly off the deck. Dangling over the edge of the ship, the icy wind cutting across your face, you struggled to hold onto his wrists. That’s when you noticed something was off.

His fingers—webbed. His arms—scaled. His eyes—unnervingly deep, staring into you like he was reading your thoughts. He had fins. Somehow, this was no longer the same pirate you thought you knew.

"Such a shame," Shadow said, tilting his head slightly, almost like he was genuinely disappointed. "You were one of my favorites," he added with a sigh, his grip loosening as he looked away.

Your eyes widened in panic as the wind howled around you. You grabbed tighter, pleaded with him not to drop you into the freezing sea.

"But," he continued, voice colder now, "you’ve seen too much."

You immediately began to beg—promising to stay quiet, to never say a word to anyone. You’d forget everything, you swore it!

He rolled his eyes, sighing like your desperation was just a mild inconvenience. Glancing back at you, he scoffed. "Everyone else who found out is already dead. Why would I let you live, huh?"

Because you were his favorite. He said so himself!

Without warning, he tossed you upward into the air—your heart stopped—then barely caught you by the scruff, letting you dangle even farther over the side. Then... he laughed. A soft, amused giggle that didn’t match the tension in the air. He tossed you carelessly into a nearby barrel, chuckling to himself.

"Honestly," he said with a grin, "I always forget why you're my favorite. Then you go and make me laugh."

He hummed as he stepped closer, drawing his blade from the holster on his thigh. The moonlight shimmered on the metal, cold and sharp.

"What should I do with you, then?" he mused aloud. "Any suggestions?"

He paused, eyes narrowed as he stares at you.