Chapter Text
Seonghwa once had a happy life, but it feels like a distant memory now, so long ago that he can barely recall the details. Yet, he knows there was a time when he felt safe and cared for. Unfortunately, those moments were fleeting, gone far too quickly.
Seonghwa's life changed drastically when he was around ten years old, the age when his father his only parent was killed by pirates. Before that, Seonghwa and his father had lived a humble, but peaceful life. They were street vendors, mostly selling shoes and clothing. Every morning, they would wake up early, set up their stall, and work together throughout the day. Although they earned little, it was enough to get by each month. Life felt somewhat stable, and Seonghwa loved working alongside his father, content with their simple routine.
But everything changed when a particular group of pirates arrived.
Seonghwa still remembers that day with perfect clarity. It was early in the morning, and their stall wasn’t even fully set up yet. As usual, Seonghwa was helping his father prepare for the day’s work when a group of around five people began to approach them. Pirates weren’t an uncommon sight in their area, so at first, there was nothing that raised any alarm bells. However, the moment Seonghwa looked more closely, he saw that all five men were walking toward them with weapons drawn. That was when the tension in the air grew thick.
His father, however, remained calm. With a steady hand, he instructed Seonghwa to go hide behind the stall. Then, without a hint of panic, he faced the pirates and spoke to them in the same calm, humble manner he always used when dealing with others. His voice never raised, never wavered, as if he were talking to a friend rather than a group of armed men. It was a composure Seonghwa had always admired in his father, but that day, it couldn’t protect them from what was to come.
Seonghwa could only catch fragments of the conversation, but one thing was clear: the men were asking about his mother. Seonghwa had never met her and knew almost nothing about her, as his father rarely spoke of her. He couldn’t recall every word exchanged that day, but one memory stood out with chilling clarity, the sudden crack of a gunshot, followed by the heavy thud of his father’s body hitting the ground. The sound echoed in Seonghwa's mind, marking the end of the life he once knew.
Seonghwa bolted from his hiding spot, his small legs moving as quickly as they could carry him. But he was too late. His father lay motionless on the ground, a single gunshot wound between his eyes. He’d died instantly, gone before he even hit the ground.
Seonghwa despised his mother. She was a mermaid, and though his father had once fallen madly in love with her, she had abandoned them both. They’d met when his father was working at a dock; it had been love at first sight. But soon after Seonghwa was born, his mother left and never returned, leaving his father to raise him alone. She hadn’t even bothered to stay for her own child. Now, she was the indirect cause of his father’s death too the very reason Seonghwa was now an orphan. His hatred for her ran deep.
Seonghwa vaguely remembers clutching his father’s lifeless body, screaming and crying as the pirates pried him away. They dragged him to their ship, ignoring his pleas and grief. He’s been with them ever since, spending the last fourteen years of his life aboard that ship, his only home since that tragic day.
At first, the pirates questioned Seonghwa about his mother, but it quickly became clear that he knew nothing. They pressed him about himself, curious about his half-mermaid heritage, but Seonghwa couldn’t answer their questions. He’d never even been near the ocean, his father had always kept him far from it. Yet, Seonghwa had inherited certain traits from his mother. Whenever he touched water, small, silvery scales would appear scattered across his collarbone, upper arms, and legs, a subtle reminder of the part of him he wished he could ignore.
The pirates saw little value in Seonghwa, but they kept him aboard the ship, forcing him to serve as their slave. He worked day in and day out, barely given enough food to survive and frequently subjected to brutal beatings. His days were a cycle of relentless labor and harsh punishment, leaving him worn down and struggling to endure.
During his years on the ship, Seonghwa began to uncover more about himself, particularly the mysterious things he’d inherited from his mother. Around the time he turned fifteen, he noticed he could sense the weather, predicting rain, storms, or sunshine with uncanny precision. Navigation came naturally to him as well, always knowing their direction without the need for a map or compass.
Other, subtler abilities began to reveal themselves, too. Sometimes, he could feel the gentle tug of the tides, even from miles away, as if the ocean itself called to him. His hearing grew sharper, allowing him to pick up distant sounds, like the quiet creaking of ships approaching on the water. And on rare, desperate occasions, when he was alone, he discovered he could heal small injuries faster by simply dipping his wounds into saltwater, watching as they closed quicker than they ever would on their own.
Seonghwa kept his abilities hidden, focusing instead on surviving each day as best as he could. The days were long and brutal, and there were moments when his will to live was hard to find. But he kept going, holding onto the faint hope that things might someday get better. Over time, he became skilled at the various chores aboard the ship, learning how to stay out of everyone’s way and keeping to himself.
In particular, he became a talented cook, managing to create decent meals from the few, often stale ingredients available. Although he rarely got to enjoy the fruits of his labor, cooking brought him a small sense of peace. It reminded him of his father, with whom he used to cook back home, and in the cramped ship kitchen, he felt a small, comforting connection to those distant memories.
On the ship, Seonghwa was treated horribly. The crew called him a freak of nature, insisting that someone like him should never have been born. He was given neither proper clothing nor shoes, and he didn’t even have a bed to sleep on. Instead, he was confined to the cells at night, locked away like a prisoner because the pirates feared he might jump overboard and swim away.
The irony was that Seonghwa didn’t even know how to swim, he’d never been in the ocean. But the pirates didn’t care. He slept on a thin, worn-out blanket, often left shivering and cold during the long, frigid nights. Each night was a painful reminder of how far he had fallen from the boy he once was, and he lay awake, longing for a sense of safety and warmth that always seemed just out of reach.
Seonghwa grew into a strikingly handsome young man, a fact his father had often pointed out, claiming he had inherited his looks from his mother. This realization filled him with resentment; he hated being reminded of her, and the attention his appearance drew was unwanted and uncomfortable.
He did his best to hide his face, striving to appear as unappealing as possible whenever he was around the pirates. Despite his efforts, it wasn’t always enough to deter their leering gazes. Fortunately, he had managed to stay just out of their reach, able to slip away before they could act on their desires. Yet, the constant scrutiny left him feeling uneasy and vulnerable, a reminder that even in the depths of his suffering, his looks could bring him more trouble than solace.
Life in that hell continued for fourteen long years, and by the time Seonghwa turned twenty-four, he was utterly exhausted. He had endured relentless suffering, bullying, and harassment throughout his youth. But little did he know that a new chapter of his life was about to begin, one that would challenge everything he thought he knew about himself and the world around him.