Chapter Text
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep;
the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
- Shakespeare
Seonghwa takes another bite of the meal in front of him without tasting its flavor on his tongue.
His eyes are trained on the man sat at the bar, frayed clothes hanging off his heavy frame atop the stool. A woman’s beside him, her dress pushing up her breasts that she presents to the man as she drapes herself over him.
She bats her eyelashes, runs her hand down the man’s arm, he grabs her waist with grimy fingers, and Seonghwa takes another bite.
His focus is interrupted, the raucous sounds of drunken conversation invading his senses when a man sits down at his table in the seat across from him, breaking his line of sight with the man at the bar. The newcomer has a hood over his head, obscuring his face and blocking the glow of the tavern’s yellow light from revealing his features.
“Lovely weather for a hunt, don’t you think?” His smooth voice asks.
Seonghwa brings the cup in front of him up to his lips, taking a sip of the rich beer inside. His answer follows with ease.
“Only for those who favor shadow.”
The man leans forward, resting his clasped hands on the table, “I have a job for you.”
The woman at the bar giggles at something undoubtedly mundane that the man next to her uttered. Seonghwa rests back in his chair and waves a hand for the man to continue.
“I need you to steal a compass from the Captain of The Aurora.”
Seonghwa appreciates a man that can get straight to the point, but the proposition makes him raise an eyebrow.
“You want me to steal from The Pirate King himself?”
The man nods, “I’ve got the money, if you think you’re up to the task. I’ve heard you’re one of the best.”
“I am.” Seonghwa answers, “But it’ll be a heavy price to pay for something like that.”
“Bring me the compass and I’ll give you five thousand gold pieces.”
Not much surprises Seonghwa anymore, but that’s more than he’d see in a year, and his heart jumps at the amount.
“Deal.”
He sees the man smile in the dark of his hood, “Wonderful. Although I must warn you, should you be captured, and you tell them who sent you, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself if they don’t rip you to pieces first.”
Seonghwa lets out a chuckle, “Do share how I’d tell them who sent me, when I don’t even know your name or your face.”
The man hums, “Just thought I’d remind you of your options if it comes to that, you can do with it what you will.”
Seonghwa doesn’t respond again, just stares and waits for him to continue.
“One month from today, meet me at dusk on the outside of the castle by the western wall, there will be a stone path and an archway. Bring the compass there and you’ll get your payment, but come alone or the deal’s off.”
Seonghwa wonders why he chose the castle for their meeting location. Most people engaging in deals with him want to get as far away from the city center as possible, away from wandering eyes where they can duck into the shadows. But Seonghwa shrugs it off, it’s not his concern. Perhaps the man means to keep his enemies closer.
With nothing further from Seonghwa but a nod in agreement and with his message complete, the man stands from the chair and melts into the throng of patrons, black coat disappearing.
Seonghwa takes another bite of his food.
It’s not minutes later that the man and woman at the bar are standing on wobbling legs and stumbling to the door. Seonghwa leaves his meal’s worth of gold on the table and follows them.
His boots echo against the cobblestone as he trails them down the dark streets to an alleyway around the corner, but the pair is too engrossed in tasting the insides of each other’s mouths to notice him approaching.
The man has the woman pinned against the rough brick wall, his hands on her breasts and his lips devouring hers, their excessive moans muffled against each other. Seonghwa grips the guy’s shoulder and wrenches him back, ignoring him as he tumbles to the ground to face the woman, who lets out a startled shriek.
“Get out of here.” He instructs, and she runs from him, tossing a glance over her shoulder at the man she’s leaving behind as the clicking of her heeled shoes fades.
Seonghwa steps to the side as the man swings a slow punch past him, the force of his miss knocking him off balance again.
“Who the hell are you?” The man slurs.
Seonghwa lets him finish throwing his tantrum of flailing fists before he unsheathes his knife and swings his leg out to trip him, sending him sprawling to the stone floor where he lands on his back with a huff.
He keeps the man from standing with a boot on his chest, looking down at him through bored eyes.
“The fuck do you want?” The man tries to mask his fear with anger, but his voice shakes.
“I’m here courtesy of your wife.” Seonghwa figures that at least he can give him some closure before he dies.
The man’s eyebrows furrow, rage and sadness clouding his eyes while he clenches his teeth, his jaw flexing, Seonghwa noticing the tremble in his bottom lip. The man opens his mouth to speak, but Seonghwa’s really just ready to get home, so he plunges his knife deep into his neck, silencing him. He gurgles around nothing as the life fades from his eyes, blood spilling from the wound in his neck, and then he goes limp, his head falling to the side and his breath ceasing.
Seonghwa keeps an ear out for any nearby footsteps and starts the familiar process of removing a head from a body, his knife carving through tissue and veins and muscle. He puts the head in his leather bag, tossing it over his shoulder and standing.
The rest of the man’s body stays lying in a growing pool of blood for someone to discover in the morning. It’s far from the first time, and it won’t be the last. Just another mess for the city to clean up, another body swept under King Yeongsu’s precious rug. His island named Utopia that’s anything but that for those anything other than rich, the entirety of The Crescent Kingdom nothing more than a sellout empire that abandoned its citizens.
Seonghwa leaves the alleyway with his leather bag in tow, straightening his coat as he walks.
The man’s wife is waiting for him at their meeting location when he gets there. She’s pacing back and forth alongside the alleyway near her house, worrying her lip between her teeth, her hands fiddling with the apron on her dress. She startles, letting her apron fall and rushing towards Seonghwa as soon as she spots him.
“Is it done? Is he dead?” She asks, her eyes frantic.
Her face and arms are blotted with dark purple rings, the skin swollen around her cheeks, eyes, wrists, angry blooms of black, blue and faded yellow.
Seonghwa pushes the bag into her arms. She opens it, peering down into the contents, and Seonghwa sees the way she swallows around nausea, squeezing her eyes shut against the sight and closing the bag again.
It’s always the same, almost like people don’t actually want what they’re paying Seonghwa to do, but that’s their cross to bear, not his. He wonders when he stopped feeling that churning in his gut, the threatening pressure in his throat when he encounters death. It must’ve been years ago.
The lady takes a deep breath, opening her eyes as she lets the air out of her lungs.
“Here, as promised.” She digs in her pocket with the hand not holding the leather bag and extends a small sack.
Seonghwa takes it and checks that the amount they’d agreed on is inside. Once satisfied, he gives her a nod in farewell and turns to leave, but her thin fingers on his arm stop him.
“Wait,” She steps towards him, pressing herself to his side, “why don’t you come home with me? I can thank you in another way too…” she rubs her palm over his chest, looking up at him through hooded eyes, “my husband hadn’t properly pleasured me in so long, and you’re so handsome, I have no doubt that you would.”
Seonghwa wishes he could say that by a woman carrying a dead man’s head was the strangest way he’s been offered sex.
He grabs her wrist gently and takes her hand off his chest.
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to decline.”
He steps back, separating them, and the lady’s shoulders fall, her face sullen as she seems to shrink in on herself, and Seonghwa sighs inwardly, all too aware of the lost look in someone’s eyes when he’s fulfilled their darkest desire. So he tells her what he tells all of those who display their battle within.
“I hope I’ve helped you find happiness.”
She watches him without saying a word, and he bows his head to her before taking his leave, money in hand.
Once in the solitude of his own small home, he peels off his layers and collapses into bed, exhaustion hitting him like a bullet to the chest. His hand slips under his pillow to ensure that a knife is still tucked away there, and as soon as his fingers fit into the worn grooves of its handle, he surrenders to a dreamless sleep.
—
In the morning he makes his way through the city, passing booth owners setting up for the day, men and women in lavish suits and dresses laughing on their way to gorge themselves on gluttony. The crisp air brushes against the thick material of his jacket, never reaching his skin but biting the tips of his ears.
He nears the king’s castle, the early sun illuminating its decadent architecture, the massive structure shining in the amber light. It’s beautiful, with broad stairs circling up to its towering archways and perfected angles. If only beauty resided within as well.
Instead of climbing the staircase, Seonghwa veers to the side, walking down the streets next to the castle. He sees multiple guards and pays them no mind, keeping his head high and his eyes peeled. He finds his target patrolling behind the castle, the city’s crescent emblem stitched on his uniform.
He bristles when he sees Seonghwa, his eyes narrowing.
“What do you want, Seonghwa?”
“Hello to you too, Hyunwoo. Is that really any way to greet me, after how much I helped you?”
“That was a long time ago, I was desperate. Things are different now, and I told you I don’t want to see your face again.”
Seonghwa ignores him and says, “I need to know how to find The Aurora.”
Hyunwoo’s shoulders square, his posture giving off all the defensive threat of a stray cat with its hackles raised.
“No, you don’t.”
“I assure you, I do.”
“I will not risk them finding out I said anything, now get the hell out of here.”
Seonghwa suppresses a laugh, “I’ll get the information one way or another, now I really don’t think you want to make this hard on yourself.”
“Is that a threat?” Hyunwoo grips the hilt of his sword where it's snug in its sheath at his hip.
“Only if it needs to be.”
“You should turn back before you regret it.”
“Sorry, but I really can’t do that.” Seonghwa takes a step towards him.
Hyunwoo’s eyes harden in resolve, and he unsheathes his sword, sending it slicing through the air.
Seonghwa side steps it, swinging his elbow to catch Hyunwoo’s jaw in a crunch, a pained cry coming from the guard.
Taking advantage of his stagger Seonghwa’s fist comes down on his wrist, sending his sword clattering to the ground.
Hyunwoo snaps back and punches Seonghwa’s stomach. Seonghwa absorbs the blow with a pained grunt but responds quickly, throwing his own punch to Hyunwoo’s cheek before using the momentum to grab his knife and rush forward, shoving Hyunwoo until his back meets brick and Seonghwa’s blade presses against his neck.
Hyunwoo struggles against his hold but Seonghwa keeps him pinned and lets the sharp edge of his knife dig into his skin until he stills, his breath hitching.
“Talk.” Seonghwa growls.
“I don’t know how to find the ship.” Hyunwoo’s eyes flicker down towards the knife.
“I know you met them when you were younger. You mentioned it when you were sloppy drunk.”
“Well I still don’t know-”
Seonghwa punches him in the nose with his free hand, blood spraying from it and dripping down his face, and Seonghwa puts more pressure on the knife.
“I don’t think I need to remind you what happens if you don’t cooperate.”
“Fuck- okay, I’ll tell you what I know.” Hyunwoo’s voice is thick, his teeth stained red.
“Tell me what happened that day.” Seonghwa pulls his knife back just enough for Hyunwoo to take in a full breath before he speaks.
“When I was a kid, I snuck on board a ship following my dad, and it went to The Desolate Port, back when it was still being used for trading.”
Hyunwoo pauses, and Seonghwa lifts the blade enough for him to turn his head and spit blood onto the stone and then it’s on his neck again.
“The port was invaded by pirates, they were slaughtering everyone. I thought I was going to die, but another pirate ship came, and they killed all of the others. They saved my life, even offered me a place on their ship. I’ll never forget the flag I saw when I ran, the crown turning to flame.”
“Why would they do that? Why save you?”
Hyunwoo loses the far away look in his eyes, returning to the present, “I don’t know, but I kept sneaking back to the port for weeks after that day and I never saw the ship again.”
Seonghwa’s eyebrows pull together as his mind assembles the pieces of information.
“Was there anything special about that day?”
“It was so long ago, I don’t remember-”
Seonghwa digs the knife deeper in again, red beading on Hyunwoo’s skin.
“Think harder.”
Hyunwoo gulps, “I- I think it was the day that the king was supposed to visit the port. He would check on the guards and negotiate trade vessels and things like that. It was only twice a year.”
Seonghwa frowns, thinking out loud, “There’s no way the king goes there anymore.”
Hyunwoo says nothing, but Seonghwa sees the telling shift in his eyes and the way they avoid his own.
“You know something- what is it?”
Hyunwoo still says nothing, not denying the claim or answering it. Seonghwa sighs, and yanks his shoulder, flipping him around and shoving him face first against the wall, his knife still held against his neck and his other hand gripping his wrist.
He pulls his wrist up, putting pressure on his shoulder until he winces, and then some more.
“Don’t make me break this arm.” He warns.
“Okay, okay- I don’t know if the king goes there anymore, but I do know that he sends guards there on the same days twice a year to check for pirate activity, and there have been rumors of The Aurora being there too, but they’re never confirmed.”
“Why would they go there on the two days a year the island’s crawling with guards?” Seonghwa asks himself as much as Hyunwoo.
“I have no idea, I swear, that’s all I know.”
“How close is the next day that the king sends his guards there?”
“It’s two days from now.” Hyunwoo answers, his voice strained from the pressure Seonghwa’s putting on his shoulder.
The gears in Seonghwa’s head spin at how close that date is, how conveniently timed the whole thing seems to be. He thinks back to the cloaked man in the tavern, grasping for answers that he doesn’t have before he lets the thoughts slide away.
“Good to know, thanks.” He lets go of Hyunwoo’s wrist, sheaths his knife, and steps back.
Hyunwoo scurries away from him, shaking out his arm and picking up his sword. He casts another glance at Seonghwa, seeming like he’s contemplating saying something, and then he takes off in the other direction.
Seonghwa ignores the dull throb in his abdomen where Hyunwoo punched him and moves through the city streets again, leaving the castle looming behind him.
That night he sleeps with his fingers fitted to the handle of the only family he has left.
—
The next day, before he sets out, he clasps his knife holster around his waist and pulls on his coat to conceal it.
His target for today is at the heart of the city, where only the most luxurious booths take root, selling only the most extravagant merchandise, and only the most wealthy peruse their contents with the possibility of purchase.
He walks through the busy city square, ignoring the sticky sweet smiles of vendors coaxing him to look at their products, until he gets to the one of interest. It’s a booth selling jewelry, diamond rings shimmering in the sunlight, gold necklaces shining like fire holding polished rubies.
As he approaches, the young salesman flashes a smile as bright as the diamonds before him, and Seonghwa returns it with his own. His head runs through all of his plans of action, and settles on the one most likely to succeed.
“Hello, my name is Jihun, what can I help you with today?” The man - Jihun - asks, his voice bright but not too bubbly to get on Seonghwa’s nerves.
“I’m looking to buy a ring today.” Seonghwa keeps his eyes wide, aware of how many men declare that they melt their heart, and doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips as he surveys the selection of rings.
He glances up in time to see Jihun’s eyes flick down his body before he asks him, “Are you shopping for your girlfriend?” with a little too much obvious interest in the answer to be strictly professional.
But Seonghwa does appreciate a man who gets straight to the point, afterall.
“No, it’s for me.” He says, Jihun nodding in understanding, “My boyfriend and I recently separated, so I decided to treat myself to mend my heart.'' And at that Jihun’s eyes light up.
“A true pity.” He tsks, before smiling, slightly darker, something teasing, “For him, of course.”
Seonghwa’s smile widens without him forcing it.
“This elegant gold band would look beautiful on you, here-” Jihun grabs the ring and Seonghwa lets him take his hand, slipping the ring on his finger. It really does look beautiful, but it’s not the one he has his eye on.
“So what do you think?” Jihun prompts.
“It's gorgeous,” Seonghwa holds his hand up to get a better look at it, but then lowers it again and frowns, “I just worry that my own is no match for its beauty.”
Jihun shakes his head in disapproval, “My job as a salesman aside, I guarantee that none of these jewels compare to your beauty.”
Seonghwa gives him another bashful smile, figuring the heat he feels on his cheeks is a nice touch. While it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, Jihun has a certain charm that appeals to him.
“You’re far too sweet.” Seonghwa looks down at the ring again, humming in thought, and then he takes it off his finger, handing it back to Jihun. “How about this one?” He points to the furthest end of the table.
Jihun’s eyes follow his direction, his attention on determining and discussing whichever ring Seonghwa had pointed to, and it gives Seonghwa just enough time to snake his other hand out, plucking the three stone diamond ring from the other side of the table and tucking it away in his pocket before Jihun has the chance to notice he’d moved.
“This is another wonderful choice.” Jihun hands him a second ring, and Seonghwa pretends to consider it for a polite amount of time before returning it.
“Thank you so much for your help, but I can’t possibly choose one right now. I’ll have to come back another time.”
“Of course, I’ll look forward to your return.” Jihun purrs, and then, “If you feel inclined, you can come back to see me at sundown when I close the booth.”
Normally Seonghwa would ignore the offer completely, but he likes the way Jihun smiles at him, the transparency in his eyes as they stare at his lips, so this time he actually means it when he says, “Maybe I’ll see you tonight then.”
He sends Jihun a wink and then he turns and leaves.
His feet take him back through the city, down the cobblestone streets, past the misleadingly well-kept landscapes and too-expensive architecture.
They take him down the familiar path to the back of the island. As he walks the bricks become cracked, thorny vines grow over crumbling stone, and the people are skinnier, with faces sunken in, ribs protruding underneath tattered clothes, their pockets and stomachs always empty.
Seonghwa knows this place far too well.
He gets to the small ramshackle house and knocks on the wooden door. The woman he’d spoken to before answers, the bags hung beneath her eyes even deeper than when they met, but she still greets him with a tired smile.
He met her when he was walking through the city square on another job a few days ago. He passed by a booth selling food and overheard a lady counting gold pieces over some bread and a carton of eggs.
“I’m so sorry, I was sure I had enough,” She’d said to the vendor, “maybe if I-”
“Come back when you can pay.” The vendor snapped.
Seonghwa stepped in, saying “Allow me,” and set more than enough gold pieces on the table before laying the bread and eggs in the woman’s arms.
“Thank you so much, but you didn’t have to do that.” She said as they walked away from the booth together.
“It’s not a problem,” Seonghwa assured her, “but if you’re in need of money, I have a way to help.”
She seemed hesitant, but asked, “How?”
Seonghwa’s broken from his thoughts of the past when the woman steps aside to give him room, saying, “Please, come in.”
Seonghwa walks inside, the woman following, and he sees her children in a doorway, two girls that are all bones. They’re huddled together, their little hands holding each other for protection as they watch him with wary eyes.
“Hello.” He nods at them, keeping his voice light.
The smaller one waves at him, while the other doesn’t move. Seonghwa turns back to their mother.
“Here.” He takes the diamond ring from his pocket and hands it to her.
Even though she knew what Seonghwa agreed to get for her, her eyes still blow wide when she sees the ring, and she takes it from him with the most gentle touch.
“This will help us so much,” she whispers, looking up at Seonghwa, “I- I try so hard every day to find work, but with all the permits and restrictions the king’s put in place, it’s nearly impossible to get a job unless you already have money.”
As she talks, Seonghwa sees his mother in her. His chest clenches, his heart aching. Buried in her eyes he sees the exhaustion of a woman suffering, yet refusing to be anything but strong for her family.
“Here’s the amount we talked about,” she continues, “but I still wish I could do more to thank you. I know you could sell this ring yourself for far more than I can offer you.”
Seonghwa looks down at the few gold pieces in her extended hand, and thinks about his mother buried in blankets because she was always cold, her hands trembling when she’d try to lift them to cradle his cheek, how pale and frail she’d been at the end.
He thinks about the woman in front of him, killing herself for work that her king won’t bother to provide for her, just trying to feed her daughters. He thinks about how much money he’ll have in his pockets once he gets the compass.
He closes her fingers around the gold pieces and shakes his head.
“Keep it.”
She looks at him like he’s given her the world.
“No- I couldn’t possibly-”
“Please.” Seonghwa insists.
Her eyes well with tears, her bottom lip wobbling, and she pulls Seonghwa into a tight hug. Seonghwa returns it, and for just a moment he feels like a kid in his mother’s arms again. When she pulls back she wipes at her eyes, and looks at the ring as Seonghwa speaks.
“If you can, try to wait a week or two before you sell it, by then they’ll forget it ever went missing,” he says, “and if anyone asks you about it tell them it’s a family heirloom.”
The woman nods, and another tear rolls down her face that she swipes at as she smiles.
“I can’t thank you enough.” She takes his hands in hers, “This world needs more men like you in it.”
Seonghwa wonders if she’d say the same if she knew the things he’s done.
“Thank you.” He smiles back, his own eyes stinging.
When he leaves the woman’s house his heart feels lighter than it has in a long time, even with thoughts of his past pressing against the corners of his mind.
His mood feels light enough that he finds himself walking back to the jewelry booth in the evening. Jihun’s smile looks even more appealing in the sunset, and he takes Seonghwa back to his house.
He calls Seonghwa pretty and kisses him softly, but Seonghwa wants to feel more. He beats his dark thoughts back by kissing Jihun harder, by crawling into his lap and telling him to touch him.
He lets Jihun fuck him into his mattress, wishing it stirred something in him when they kissed, but the pleasure he feels from being filled is enough for the night. He faces away from him, his cheek pressed against a pillow that his fingers claw at as Jihun thrusts into him until they both come.
Jihun slumps onto the bed, his eyes drooping, and he tells Seonghwa how good he made him feel.
As soon as Jihun’s asleep Seonghwa pulls his pants on over the come leaking out of him, slipping out of the house and into the shadows.
—
In the morning Seonghwa eats what’s left of his cold soup and stale bread, nibbling around the green spots of mold. He thinks about being able to buy fresh bread when he gets back, maybe he can even afford some meat.
He straps his larger holster around his waist and over his chest, arming himself with his knife on one hip and tucking his sword into its sheathe on the other. He pulls a black hat low over his eyes, shrugging his dark coat over his shoulders and tugging on his boots.
Standing in his doorway, he takes a deep breath. He's about to steal from the infamous Pirate King, and he can't untangle the knot of feelings in his chest to decipher what they are.
Once it's done he won't have to work for a long time, won't have to come home at night smelling of blood and death. He’ll be able to do so many more jobs to provide for those abandoned to the back of the island.
With that thought he walks out his door.
He heads toward the front of the island, the sky glistening with early morning light as he walks. The closer he gets to the bay the saltier the air is, growing heavy with the ocean breeze.
Clearwater Bay is exactly that; a shore with crystal clear water along the inward curve, countless docks extended into the glassy blue waves. Wealthy visitors from every kingdom flock to the bay to experience what the king boasts as a paradise, so long as they don’t venture too far inland.
Hundreds of ships sail in and out from the bay every day, and even now when the sun has only just risen, there’s already trading and cargo boats, and visitors flying their kingdom’s flags. Sails fill the sky and color the horizon as Seonghwa nears the bay.
He goes to the very end of the beach, away from the larger vessels to where small fishing boats dock. He finds a boat manned by a single fisherman who’s untying his rope from its post, preparing to leave.
“I need to be taken to The Desolate Port.” Seonghwa announces, walking up behind the fisherman.
The man turns to face him with furrowed brows and pulled down lips, his face sagging with time and a life of labor.
“Find your own way there, I have work to do.”
“I’m sorry, but I must insist.”
“I really don’t have time for this-” The man continues, his voice raising and arms flailing as he rants.
Seonghwa looks from side to side, checking that everyone in the vicinity is occupied with their own ships and cargo, and then he grabs the man, covering his mouth with his hand to mute his protests. The man fights against him but it’s useless, Seonghwa yanking him away from the docks and behind a nearby storage shed.
He shoves the man’s back against the wood, keeping his hand clamped over his mouth and whipping his knife out to press against his neck, the man tensing when the blade meets his skin.
“You’ve got two options. You can take me to The Desolate Port and then never have to see me again, or I can kill you where you stand.” Seonghwa puts a little more pressure on the blade, “Now, are you going to cooperate?”
The man nods as much as he can with Seonghwa’s hand and knife on him.
Seonghwa’s heart twinges that he has to threaten this man’s life when he’s just trying to make an honest living, something that’s nearly impossible to do in the king’s wasteland, but sheer necessity overrides sympathy, a harsh reality that he accepted long ago.
“Okay, let’s go then. And if you try anything I won’t hesitate to kill you, understand?”
Another small nod from the man and Seonghwa lets him go, walking back towards the bay with the man on his heels. He watches Seonghwa with narrow eyes when he helps him finish untying the boat from the dock and securing the ropes, but he accepts the help and it doesn’t take long before they’re departing with only oars to propel the little boat through the water.
Between islands, out in the open ocean, it’s so quiet, calm, and peaceful. There’s only the sounds of mumbling waves and water lapping at the boat. Seonghwa sits across from the fisherman as he pushes and pulls the oars, looking out towards the horizon. There’s nothing but ocean as far as he can see in any direction. He doesn’t travel to the other islands in the kingdom often, but every time he does he wonders why he doesn’t do it more.
He feels like he can be anyone, rocking back and forth in the waves with only water surrounding him.
“Do you make a habit of threatening people to get what you want?” The man addresses him for the first time since they left Utopia.
“I suppose so.”
The man scoffs, “I bet your parents are proud.”
“My parents are dead, so they most likely have no opinions regarding my profession.” he says, his voice as tight as his throat feels.
The man’s rowing falters and then he nods with a frown, “That’s rough kid, I’m sorry.” he pauses, “but you’re young and strong, you could make an honest living.”
Seonghwa ignores the pang in his chest, reminding himself of the truth as he shakes his head, “I don’t know how to do anything else, it’s too late for me. But I try to help people as much as I can in Utopia.”
The fisherman looks at him, his eyes calculating, and then he asks, “What’s your name, kid?”
On one hand the nickname gets on Seonghwa’s nerves, but on the other it’s almost refreshing to be seen in a childlike light as opposed to being seen as a murderer and a thief, the last face you see before you die.
“Seonghwa.”
“I’m Yaejoon,” The fisherman responds, “and you don’t seem so bad, just got dealt a bad hand in life. Although I do think you could’ve played the cards you got a little better.”
“Thanks.”
A bigger wave smacks the side of the boat, water spraying up and splashing Seonghwa’s cheek. As he wipes it off he turns his head, noticing that the port is now visible in the distance.
“What’s so important at The Desolate Port?” Yaejoon pulls Seonghwa’s attention back to him.
He can’t give away too many details of his job, but he does want to gather as much information as possible, so he answers Yaejoon’s question with his own.
“What do you know of The Aurora?”
“I know its Captain, the Pirate King.” Yaejoon says, “They say he strikes fear in the heart of Utopia’s king.”
“Why would the king be afraid of pirates?”
“The pirates aboard The Aurora act strange, they tend to target the king and his guards more than treasure or pillaging civilian cities.”
“So they’re after power? They want to overthrow the king?”
“Perhaps. I hear a lot traveling as a fisherman, but so many talk about the Pirate King and his crew, it’s hard to know which stories to believe.” Yaejoon tears his eyes from the approaching port to look into Seonghwa’s, “Just be careful with whatever it is you’re doing. I have no doubt that those pirates are dangerous.”
“Thank you, I will.” Seonghwa can’t help but feel warm at Yaejoon’s concern.
They near the island, but Seonghwa doesn’t see a single pirate ship, or any ships at all, every dock vacant as they pull up to one of them.
He climbs out of the wobbling boat, turning towards Yaejoon and offering him a small bow, “Thank you again for your help.”
“Thank me by not threatening people’s lives anymore, okay?”
“No promises.”
Yaejoon’s lips pull into a small smile, “Good luck, kid.”
Seonghwa turns away from the boat, a faint smile on his own lips, but as he walks further and further from the dock he knows he has to return to reality, he has to focus on his job.
It’s like the entire island’s been abandoned, the air stagnant and too quiet, nothing but salt and the sound of distant waves filling it. While he wanders around the port he notices guard ships start to dot the horizon, white crescent decorated flags billowing in the wind.
Seonghwa ventures even further into the small city, and remembers why he almost never comes here. It used to be as well kept as Utopia, the hub for trading between kingdoms, until pirates took over, becoming the reigning force on the island even when guards arrest as many of them as they can find and capture.
From all of the pirate raids and invasions there’s rubble littering the ground, buildings with holes blown in them, debris strewn over the streets that have never gotten cleaned, and the conditions only worsened over the years with no one to tend to them. The evidence of violence and neglect is ingrained in the once proud city.
The king conveniently forgets to mention this island on the Utopian paradise promotions of his “perfect” kingdom.
Seonghwa sees a lit lantern hanging from a tavern’s wooden sign, the first evidence of life he’s found since he got here, and he heads straight for it.
The door doesn’t budge when he tries the handle, and he doesn’t hear any movement or voices inside, but he knows the lantern’s light holds meaning. He knocks, but when nothing happens he tries his last option.
“I’ve resigned myself to a fate beneath the waves.”
There’s a pause, and then a voice booms from inside, “Swear by the sea to hold silent her treasures.”
Seonghwa responds, “Lest my soul be swallowed by her depths.”
There are footsteps, and then the door creaks open. The corner of Seonghwa’s mouth curls up, pirates are so predictable, always using the same codes he’s heard thrown around while on jobs when they think no one’s listening.
He’s met with hardened eyes underneath a pirate’s hat, and he follows behind the pirate’s long brown coat as he leads him through the empty tavern to a staircase hidden behind the counter. They wind down it, and the lower they get the more sounds of life Seonghwa hears.
At the bottom of the stairs a makeshift tavern awaits, pirates crowded within, no doubt quieter than they want to be, but still filling the space, talking and laughing and singing, drinks flowing from mugs. A bar is set up at a long table, and Seonghwa leaves the pirate from the door with a nod before he makes his way over to it.
Stares follow him through the crowd, but he pays them no mind. Afterall, he did use the pirate’s code to get in, but he doesn’t look like a pirate, dressed in all black instead of the signature whites, tans, and browns. But nobody approaches him so he pushes through until he’s sat at a stool in front of the bar.
He gestures to the bartender, and it’s not long before a mug of beer is placed on the counter.
“Didn’t take pirates for the kind to hide away from some guards.” Seonghwa comments, taking a swig from his mug.
If the bartender is offended he hides it with a shrug, “Just the type ta pick our battles,” he says, his voice thick with a pirate’s drawl, “it be not on us if the Pirate King’s crew and the king’s guards wan’ ta kill each other twice a year.”
Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, “So it’s true then, The Aurora is here?”
“It is. The king’s been after ‘em for years, but they always manage to slip away. We’ve learned to just leave ‘em to it.”
“I heard that they’re after the throne.”
The bartender pauses, “I mightn’t be so sure.”
Before Seonghwa can ask him what he means, gunshots ring out above their heads, Seonghwa’s eyes snapping up at the sound as booming voices and flurried footsteps follow.
Seonghwa knows this must be it, now’s his chance, and he stands from the stool, slapping his payment for the beer down on the counter.
“If you go out there, yer a dead man.” The bartender interjects.
Seonghwa turns away, ignoring the “So be it.” tossed towards his back.
Once outside, Seonghwa scans the streets, surrounded by the commotion of fighting, of yelling and the clash of swords, but he sees nothing. His decision making process of where to go next is cut short when footsteps hurry towards him, a guard running around the corner.
When he catches sight of Seonghwa he sprints straight for him, his sword drawn and raised.
Seonghwa meets his sword with his own, letting his muscles guide his movements as he blocks the guard’s every swing. He keeps his steps light and his movements quick, the guard trained well, but lacking Seonghwa’s precision.
He dodges and swipes, catching the guard’s arm, dodges and swipes, slicing a gash through his stomach.
The dance is fast and deadly, any mistake drawing blood. Seonghwa sees his opening when the guard lets out an enraged cry, his frustration towards losing shown on the surface and making his technique sloppy.
The guard raises his arms high and slams them down, aiming to kill, but Seonghwa’s faster, blocking his blade before swinging his own, slicing across the guard’s throat, blood spraying.
The guard crumples to the stone floor, lifeless.
Seonghwa takes a minute to compose himself, keeping his sword in his hand as he continues. He follows the commotion, winding through the empty streets with no destination but forward. He freezes in his tracks when he turns down a street and another pirate is running straight at him from the other side.
He plants his feet, his fingers tight around the handle of his sword, ready to face the pirate.
“Get down!” The pirate yells instead.
His focus is on something besides Seonghwa, unthreatening to him, so he drops low to the floor, just as an ax whips through the air over his head, lodging in one of the buildings instead of his skull.
The pirate flies past Seonghwa, and he spins around to watch as the pirate buries his sword deep in the guard’s gut that had thrown the ax, the guard that was targeting Seonghwa.
After the guard falls, the pirate and Seonghwa lock eyes. The pirate is small but fast, with looks that could kill as swift as his sword, his two toned hair pulled into a ponytail on his head. With one lasting glance, the pirate shoots off in the other direction, sprinting away from Seonghwa faster than he can blink.
Seonghwa takes off after him, the chaos of battle growing louder.
He runs until the muscles in his legs burn, but he never catches sight of the pirate from before again. He does make it to the source of the noise, most of the fighting centered in the city’s square that he looks down on from the top of the street.
Bodies are strewn across the square, most of them guards, blood pooled and splattered over stone, and more guards keep coming. Seonghwa sees only flashes of fights, the light and dark of guards and pirates colliding.
But Seonghwa’s not here to get between whatever biannual war they’re deep in the midst of, he’s here to take the one chance at The Aurora he’ll get for another six months, so he continues past the square, slipping around buildings to avoid being seen.
As quickly as the clatter of fighting had appeared it vanishes into the air behind him, and it doesn’t take long for him to break through the last line of buildings, his boots digging into the soft sand of the beach at the back of the island, the sea once again stretching in front of him.
Despite it being his entire purpose for coming here he almost can’t believe his eyes when he sees the ship bobbing in the shallow waves, its wood a worn brown and the infamous sails emboldened with a crown and flames. Seonghwa can see why he’s only heard it described with hushed intimidation and revered awe.
Shouts pierce through the distance and he lunges into action, ensuring that his weapons are secured before he starts wading into the water. It gets deep enough that he has to swim, his hat pulled off his head by the waves that lick at his neck, but he lets it sink to the ocean floor and keeps swimming.
The ship towers above him when he nears it, but he’s able to paddle to the side and grab ahold of the rigging, hauling himself out of the water that weighs down his sodden clothes as he grips at the rough ropes and climbs up. He vaults over the side of the ship and before his boots even hit solid wood with a softened thump he’s crouched down, surveying his surroundings.
There’s not a soul on the deck, wind whistling through the quiet, and Seonghwa could almost laugh at the pirates’ arrogance. The only crew member left on board is perched up in the crow’s nest, on the lookout for threats, but they never thought they’d have to look below them.
With practiced, near silent steps aside from the water dripping off of him, Seonghwa crosses the deck and finds stairs that lead into the belly of the ship, his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of movement. The stairs creak under his feet but he keeps every downward shift soft, and the pirate above him stays oblivious.
Below deck holds the crew’s sleeping quarters, hammocks strung in rows swinging with the bobbing ship. Seonghwa hurries through the space, finding storage barrels at the back of the long, narrow room and tucking himself between them. The smells of damp wood and fish fill his senses but he pays it no mind, ensuring that he’s buried deep enough to avoid any chance of detection.
He doesn’t know how long he’ll be waiting once he’s settled, silence descending over him, but he’s adept at letting his thoughts go blank and lying still, poised, ready for the right moment. He waits in the quiet, body on high alert, and mind on what lies ahead.