Chapter Text
Mingi was probably a complete failure.
Looking at his life, he had never been lucky at all. From the very beginning, his birth fell on the day of his grandmother’s death—the former queen of the great kingdom of Ayrinde, who had tragically died defending her homeland in war. Therefore, he never knew what it was like to receive gifts, decorate a hall for a grand celebration, or invite friends to a table filled with delicacies from every corner of the country.
On the other hand, he never really had friends anyway, because his father always repeated the same thing: everyone around you will want to use you; all they care about is your money. Because of this, he spent almost his entire childhood reading books, sometimes drawing, and sometimes trying to befriend his older brothers—though even they were judgmental of him. Still, he did not feel sad about it. Perhaps only occasionally, he wanted to lock himself in his room and cry into his pillow for a few hours. Still, usually, thereafter, he would come out full of strength and determination to keep living.
Everything changed when he turned twenty-three. His brothers were already married; some even had children, so the king kept his eyes fixed on his youngest son, desperately searching for him a bride. It was normal—to marry without love—but Mingi was not that kind of person. He had books. Many books. They all told wonderful stories: about a prince falling in love with a beggar girl, about two great warriors overcoming every hardship together and building a family, and about two eternal enemies learning to mend their relationship. But most of all, he loved the story of a princess who fell in love with a pirate.
Every time, the young man would take the same book into his hands, flip through the pages, and look for his favorite moments, just to relive those same emotions again. In that story, a young princess abandoned her kingdom and renounced her crown for only one thing—a handsome pirate king, who agreed to become her eternal companion.
Perhaps because of that, Mingi began to romanticize pirates. He even dreamed that one day, some pirate woman would accidentally find him, fall in love with him, and he would take her to his castle. Or she could bring him aboard her ship so that they could travel beneath the blue sky until old age.
But his fate was entirely different. The day his father began searching for a bride became the darkest day of the young man’s life. Everything followed the same pattern: girls of different ages were seated before him, and he was expected to choose who looked prettier and who could potentially bear many children. The age range of those girls was varied. He saw very young ones, which sent a shiver down his spine and left him unable to understand why he was supposed to do this, as well as rather old ones—probably the same age as his mother.
Mingi hated those days. Oh, he simply could not stand it.
He had to reject every single one. And in that rhythm, months passed. A girl—rejection; another girl—another rejection. It became exhausting, but he could not pick an eternal companion for himself, which made his father grow angry. One day, the king slammed his palm on the table and told his son that he no longer had any say in this matter, which enraged Mingi beyond measure. How could this be? He dreamed of the kind of love found in books, and now he was going to be married off to the first woman available—one who might not even be his age.
And then he met the girl who had been chosen for him.
And he spent the entire day crying into his pillow.
He felt sick—at the mere thought that he would have to share a bed with someone he would never love. Women… they were beautiful. Mingi liked them; it was pleasant to talk to them occasionally, and they always smelled nice. Yet for some reason, at that very moment, staring at the portrait of his future bride, he could not shake the feeling that all of this was wrong.
Chaos reigned inside his head—endless fury mixed with tension and sorrow. The young man did not understand himself. Everything was dreadful, from the day he learned about the engagement to the moment when he was supposed to walk to the altar.
To an altar he would never reach.
The day before his wedding, Mingi came up with a plan. He stuffed the pockets of his expensive suit with various gold and silver ornaments adorned with diamonds and other precious stones. He shoved it wherever he could, into every free corner, putting on as much jewelry as possible, telling others that he simply wanted to look handsome for his beloved.
Then, into the remaining spaces, he poured gold coins, and under his jacket, he hung several small bags filled to the brim with money. From the other look, it was strange, as if he had gained some weight, but the young man had no other choice. And then, they came for him.
Accompanied by the guards, he walked forward, straight toward the place where he was to be married. The guards in front, he behind them, head lowered, as was expected of a prince about to lose his bachelor life. In his hands was a bouquet of gold-plated roses, which he was meant to present to his bride as a symbol of their endless love—at least according to the people. But in his mind already fluttered a plan that would change the course of his life. It worked in his favor that the capital was currently consumed by pure chaos.
The wedding of the youngest prince, awaited for years, was gaining momentum; people were celebrating. For them, this day was just another holiday, a chance to rest and rejoice that all the royal children now had life partners and that there was no need to worry about the future. And so, no one paid attention to fugitives, thieves, or other scum slipping through the crowd.
And so, no one would notice if he carefully slipped away right in front of the great monumental doors of the temple. When the guards opened the entrance for him, he simply… fell into the nearest bushes. All that remained of Mingi was that very bouquet, which would never end up in his bride’s hands. The young man himself ran as fast as he could, trying not to make any noise.
The pounding of his heart echoed in his head, already throbbing from the tension of the moment. He was terribly afraid of being caught, of being dragged back—of having no other option left but to take that girl’s hand. And so he ran. He slipped past another group of guards, stole a black cloak from some commoner—one the man had probably saved for half a year to buy—and then headed for the stables, where a prepared horse was waiting for him.
The most important thing in his situation was not to get caught. He held himself together, mounted his black steed, and calmly rode out of the stables without drawing attention. Everyone around was far more focused on the news that the prince had suddenly vanished right before his wedding. Judging by the rumors spreading among the people, they were convinced he had simply been kidnapped.
Perhaps even pirates had dared to attempt to kidnap the youngest, most vulnerable prince, hoping to extort a ransom from the king, knowing how crucial it was for him to secure that particular marriage. After all, a political marriage was incredibly appealing to everyone—except the newlyweds themselves, who would have preferred to live a quiet, measured life without an unwanted person at their side.
The guards ran past without paying any attention to the young man confidently riding his horse straight toward the port. They took him for an ordinary merchant leaving the town after a failed celebration, and no one even thought to look beneath the black hood that concealed his features better than any mask. Thus, calmly and without incident, he reached his desired destination. People were still running about, shouting about the unimaginable tragedy and how every pirate who had dared to lay a hand on the prince must be punished. He merely smiled modestly, gazing at the dozens of different ships before him.
The next stage of his plan was to find a captain willing to take him anywhere at all. Of course, he hoped to end up on some enchanted island where he would work as a cook—Mingi cooked incredibly well and adored doing it—and where there would be a house overlooking the endless ocean. He dreamed of such a place, with palm trees, funny little animals, and exotic food, where everyone was free to do whatever they pleased and where there were no kings, no princes, and no guards watching every step.
It would be nice if delicious, sweet fruits grew there too—fruits he was given only on holidays and only if he was lucky. Usually, they all belonged to his older brothers, and he was left only the peels, and even then, only because he was supposed to take it to the pigs. And when he asked why the servants could not do it instead, no one ever answered him.
Carefully, without drawing attention with the sound of coins and jewelry still hidden in his pockets, he dismounted and patted the horse on the neck. Unfortunately, Mingi did not have an apple with him, so he was unable to reward his faithful savior; instead, he loosened the tack and let it go to graze. He planned to leave it here, waiting for some peasant to take in the fine stallion—young and strong—because there was no way to take such a valuable friend aboard a ship, no matter how much he wished he could. Then Mingi surveyed the quay before him—merchants had already packed up their goods, hiding the fish they had diligently caught in large barrels, preparing for the next day. The street was growing dark; the sun was slipping beyond the horizon, painting everything in a blend of vivid golden hues.
Disappointed by the absence of a celebration, people were returning to their ships, which allowed Mingi to easily figure out who owned which vessel. For example, if he saw a burly man in a peculiar uniform, that man had clearly come from another country—perhaps a guard of some duke or another prince. And if it was an ordinary lady in a long dress, already dirty along the hem after a long day, then most likely she was just a traveler who had been eager to attend the ceremony.
And then, he saw exactly what he was looking for. A young man wearing a loose red shirt, his trousers slightly torn as if he did not even pay attention to it, a strip of black cloth tied at his waist, accentuating his slender figure. His shoulders, surprisingly broad—he truly worked hard, perhaps even with weapons. Mingi could already imagine how that man’s skin would gleam under the sun’s rays—so tanned, so beautiful, as if he had been kissed by the sun itself. This man was different from the others. He ran a strong hand through his hair, scanning the surroundings, then stepped onto the gangplank, heading toward the rest of the crew.
Definitely a pirate.
Only pirates were that tanned and beautiful. An ordinary person, even one who worked in the fields, would not be so well-built, so strong. To be able to fight—and on water, no less—you needed powerful arms and equally strong legs, and these sea predators searching for treasure had everything that set them apart from the rest. Mingi did not even notice how long he stared at that young man before he disappeared among the vast deck.
The ship… was impressive. It had beautiful white sails, currently lowered, and its dark wooden hull was adorned with various carved figures—mermaids, sharks, and some fish alongside other magical sea creatures. The pirates probably believed that by placing such gifts upon their vessel, they would receive the sea’s blessing.
Without waiting, he began to approach the ship, taking in more and more of what awaited him ahead. He hid behind barrels, trying to gauge the number of pirates on board—but unfortunately, he did not succeed. Or perhaps there were simply too few of these sea criminals. The young man carefully examined the part of the deck that was still visible, and it seemed that there was no one there at all. Strange. Usually, ships were full of life—from the sailors to the captain himself, walking about and checking whether his pirates were working diligently. And now… nothing. As if it were a ghost ship, or an abandoned one. Shouldn’t they be afraid? It seemed that anyone could step onto the deck right now and steal whatever they wanted.
All in all, that was exactly what Mingi needed.
Watching the path ahead of him, he followed the same route as the pirate he had seen earlier. Carefully, without drawing attention, he stepped only on the more even planks so that they would not creak and attract unnecessary notice. And so he climbed onto the deck and immediately hid behind more barrels, only to realize… There was no one to hide from.
The ship was just as empty. Not a single soul, not a single tanned sailor; even the crew that should have been preparing to return to the raging sea was nowhere to be seen. It was so strange. Where was the guard? Mingi nodded to himself and noticed a door. At first glance, it was completely ordinary, slightly ajar, which made him want to go inside. Perhaps that was where the captain’s cabin was—the one he wanted to speak to and negotiate with about the possibility of being taken somewhere else. Anywhere. Behind him, he could hear the patrols continuing, and worst of all—judging by the guards’ conversations, they were planning to check every ship.
Right. Mingi remembered that everyone in the kingdom suspected the prince had been kidnapped, so it was only a matter of time before the guards reached this place as well. Without wasting a moment, the young man headed for the door, carefully opening it. Instead of a fine captain’s cabin, he saw only narrow, partly cracked stairs leading downward. There was no light there at all—nothing but darkness, blacker than the terrifying castle dungeons. He did not want to risk walking straight into the unknown, and instead was already ready to turn around when suddenly he felt a touch.
Someone touched his back.
Someone shoved him straight inside.
Mingi knew he was a failure. And now, as his body fell against his will all the way down, into the very bottom of that darkness, he was convinced of it once again. At this stage, he regretted ever deciding to follow his plan, his own dream, because the landing promised nothing pleasant. His arm twisted painfully and improperly, sending a sharp wave of pain through his entire body, touching every single nerve. Moreover, he struck his back hard as well, and that would not escape bruises either.
The young man let out an unpleasant groan mixed with a pained hiss, and everything before his eyes was… simply black, as one would expect in a place like this. Mingi tried to get up; with his uninjured hand, he attempted to feel for something—anything—but it was useless. Beneath him was nothing but an ordinary wooden floor, slightly damp, which made it clear: this was the very bottom of the ship.
Then, footsteps echoed. Someone—most likely the same person who had shoved him down here—was walking carefully. Like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for it to die. The person held a small lantern, and Mingi was finally able to see part of the stairs. With every step downward, the unknown figure brought not only fear, but light into the space as well. Still, the young man could barely see. After the fall, something seemed to have gone wrong in his head—everything around him was so… blurred. Even when the stranger descended all the way down and stood before the still-helpless boy on the floor, Mingi could not clearly make out his face.
The man looked like a blot. A blot of burgundy, to be precise. A burgundy shirt, trousers a shade darker, and, as expected, an old lantern with a candle burning out inside. The stranger said nothing, testing him with silence, watching as if Mingi were just an ordinary animal—defenseless, wounded. At one moment, he brought the light source closer to the other’s face, and then finally did something.
Unfortunately for Mingi, this man showed no mercy.
With his heavy boots, he kicked him somewhere under the ribs, drawing out another painful groan. If the fall downward had already been shocking, this only finished off his already injured body. He doubled over, and in that very moment, another blow landed on him—this time no less cruel, straight to the back. Along with it came strange laughter, as if the man actually enjoyed beating his victim, sparing no strength.
It seemed he was about to deliver another strike, but this time he was interrupted. More footsteps rang out; someone else came down, surveying the space and noticing the stranger aboard this ship.
“What are you doing?” The words sounded in the silence.
“I spotted a rat on the ship. Thought it’d be better to finish it off before it spoiled the food.”
A rat? So now he was no longer the youngest prince of the kingdom, but just an ordinary ship rat? That infuriated Mingi.
“This one? A rat? Look at his body,” the pirate sounded indignant, “he’s better fed than any of us.”
And that sounded insulting. Mingi had a good build, as a prince was supposed to; he trained for hours in the courtyard, knew how to handle weapons, and could even have taken part in a war, so being called well-fed felt unnecessary to him. But the terrible pain spreading through his body made it impossible to argue.
“And so what? Maybe he stole food; that’s why he’s so…”
“No, look at his clothes,” they finally noticed his ceremonial attire beneath the black cloak—something that clearly did not mark him as a commoner. “Rats don’t wear things like that. They walk around in rags, and this one is dressed as if he ran away from a wedding.”
The pirate was right. That was exactly what he had done. Run away from his own wedding, only to be beaten to death on a pirate ship and then thrown into the sea, where fish would devour his body. A wonderful plan. Perhaps even better than spending his life with a woman he did not know and would never love.
“Can we strip him?”
At that moment, he heard a sound as if someone had been struck on the head.
“Are you insane? What will the captain say if he sees a naked man in our prison hold?”
The other—his friend—exhaled, sounding disappointed.
“He’ll think I found another boy for the night and brought him onto the ship again, even though I promised to do that outside.”
This was starting to get irritating. The dialogue between the two pirates dragged on, giving Mingi time to come to his senses and look around. It resembled an abandoned compartment: shackles hung from the walls, and overturned and empty barrels stood nearby, strange rags stained with something red lay scattered about, and in some corners something moved—probably real rats or mice. He pushed himself up slightly on his hands, and while their voices echoed in the background, he reached for something that felt like a stick. More precisely, it was a thin plank left from a broken surface, but it was enough for him to grip it in his palm and point straight at the pirates. His only form of defense at that moment.
“And what’s that?” one of them said, surprised.
Now that his vision was slowly clearing, Mingi could see their faces better. They looked confused, but showed neither fear nor laughter. One of them was fairly tall—perhaps even handsome—while the other, dressed in burgundy, looked smaller beside him, with sharper facial features and long black hair falling over his eyes. Yet both of them were staring at him as if they had just seen a ghost.
“I thought you finished him off,” said the taller one. He leaned in slightly, examining Mingi’s face. “He looks… familiar. Maybe we should show him to the captain?”
“What for? Let’s strip him and throw him into the sea.”
“You can’t do that, Wooyoung! He’s—”
“The captain won’t find out!”
“And what exactly the captain won’t find out?”
This time, a completely new voice rang out. Another figure descended into the compartment, his steps carrying the weight of a dangerous enemy. The man moved slowly, never taking his eyes off the pirates. He was different from them. While the two pirates looked rather poor—their clothes slightly torn, holes visible here and there, bad seams barely holding together—the newcomer… the newcomer looked expensive.
The color of his clothes was similar to that of one of the two fools who had been tormenting him. The same deep burgundy, rich and saturated—probably a color belonging specifically to these pirates. On one side, a strip of fur was visible, framing his left shoulder as if adorning it and granting this man a special status aboard the ship. He was… predatory. Cruel. Perhaps worse than all the others. That gaze, made even more terrifying by the darkness of the hold, refused to leave Mingi’s mind. He was afraid to break it—there was nothing left but to stare back helplessly, hoping that by the end of the day, he would not be lying as a lifeless body in the depths of the sea.
“Who is this?”
“It’s a rat,” one of the pirates answered immediately.
“Too big for a rat,” and once again, they chose to insult him. Perhaps even Mingi’s father had not been as cruel as these men.
The imposing pirate stepped closer but, fortunately, did not resort to violence. He took one of the lanterns and raised it straight to the stranger’s face, now reading every emotion that had been so difficult to hide. A moment later, even this formidable pirate’s expression changed—from command to sheer horror.
“You two,” he snapped, straightening up and turning around, “you absolute idiots—where did you find the prince?!”
It was foolish to hope he would not be recognized. Mingi would have been better off pretending to be an ordinary traveler, but fate was playing against him.
“A prince? Do princes really wander around pirate ships seeking food?” one of them muttered under his breath, averting his gaze.
“And besides, I heard some prince is supposed to be getting married today. Someone was shouting that he… disappeared.”
The man froze, as if the full scope of the problem had just dawned on him. The pirates exchanged looks. Lying right there on the floor was a real prince, whose wedding was supposed to take place today—but instead, he had run away and ended up here, amid the damp belly of a ship. And moreover, countless patrols were currently sweeping the town, inspecting every vessel with the firm belief that it was the pirates who had stolen their precious royal. Rather than the prince choosing to flee of his own will.
“The captain will kill us,” said the one in charge. Or rather—not the one in charge, considering he was not actually the captain, as Mingi had initially thought.
“What do we do?”
“There’s good news,” the man began. “We’ve already left the port, so they didn’t manage to inspect our ship.”
“And the bad news?” One of the younger pirates glanced at the prince.
“We have to show him to the captain—and have an accusation of kidnapping the prince hanging over us.”
The room fell silent. None of them spoke, as if they feared that a single extra word might summon the terrifying captain no one wanted to see. Not even Mingi himself. But would he even have a choice? He was afraid to say a word, expecting the pirates to start beating him immediately, so he remained silent, curled up on the floor, still clutching the wooden stick in his hands. The boy pressed it to his chest as his only form of protection at that moment.
“We need to show him to Hongjoong.”
“He’ll throw him into the sea.”
“He’ll throw both of you into the sea if you don’t show him.”
That made sense. Letting out a breath, one of the pirates—the one who seemed the tallest of the three—crouched down to Mingi’s level and began examining him.
“Your Highness,” he said, nudging Mingi’s shoulder with his free hand, checking whether he was even conscious. Mingi blinked and didn’t respond. “What’s your name?”
At first, he didn’t want to speak. He thought it might be better to shout something like, “I’ll only speak to your captain,” but the thought that they likely had good weapons and strong legs, too, frightened him.
“S-Song Mingi,” came the quiet reply, his voice trembling slightly, betraying his vulnerability.
“Damn, he really is a prince,” the pirate ran a hand through his hair and then exhaled just as tiredly. “I don’t know how he got here, but you two will be to blame.”
“We didn't do it! He came in here himself, and then… Yunho pushed him! Stupid Yunho,” the pirates began arguing among themselves. “What if he had died? They would’ve said we killed the prince, and we’d all be hanged.”
“Wooyoung, we’re pirates,” this “Yunho” said. “They’ll hang us anyway.”
Finally, everyone fell silent, probably trying to come up with a plan for what to do next. Meanwhile, Mingi began to seriously fear for his own fate. He didn’t know exactly what they wanted to do with him or how, and therefore, it felt as though all his past desires were sinking to the very bottom of unrealized dreams.
A second later, the boy felt two strong hands lift him and set him on his feet, holding him firmly by the shoulders. He swayed slightly, unsure whether he could move on his own at all, because the world still felt too unreal before his eyes. His body continued to ache, though not as badly as when he had met the floor.
Then they led him upstairs. Carefully supporting him, the tall pirate guided him up the stairs, and surprisingly, his touch felt pleasant to Mingi. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t try to cause pain—though recently he had seemed ready to kill—but instead treated him like a prince. The boy even managed to blush a little, feeling the other man’s palm tighten around his waist as they both stepped out onto the deck.
It was bright there, illuminated by the lanterns. Life was easier to see now. He noticed two more pirates who stared back at him in surprise, as if they had dragged up a real corpse from that strange place rather than a desperate prince.
They led him in a completely different direction, straight toward the stern of the ship. Mingi couldn’t stop looking around, watching as the land grew farther and farther away with every passing minute, turning into nothing more than a small dot somewhere on the horizon. Yet the ship still felt empty, despite the few pirates he had encountered. Was it even possible to control such a magnificent vessel without a crew worthy of it?
Then again, that would be a good topic of conversation with the pirates—if, of course, they wanted to answer his questions and decided to keep him alive at all.
Everyone stopped right in front of the next door. They looked slightly different—more massive—with engravings of mermaids and, in the center, a ship sailing through a storm. At that moment, Mingi regretted not coming here right away. This had to be the captain’s quarters, the place he needed to reach so badly. All that remained was to hope he would leave it alive. Mingi had also read that pirates sometimes liked to cut out tongues, especially if someone spoke carelessly to the one in charge. So he needed to do everything possible to make sure that didn’t happen.
The strictest of the pirates—the same one the other two seemed slightly afraid of—carefully knocked, and when he received no answer, finally opened the door, letting them in first. This time, the cabin looked different… no, wholly different. It was luxurious. Large windows revealed the blue of the sea, and an equally large bed stood at the far end of the cabin. Various trophies covered the walls, from bizarre fish to rifles that belonged to different kingdoms. There were even helmets of warriors Mingi had never seen before. An exquisite carpet stretched across the floor, decorated with equally intriguing patterns twisting into unusual lines, resembling flowers or perhaps exotic plants that grew in his mother’s gardens.
But the king of this place was the desk, and behind it sat him. The captain of this ship. This man, surprisingly, looked young, like the rest of the pirates Mingi had seen. His clothing carried shades of black and red that contrasted with his hair. Light hair, which surprised the prince. No, he had heard of algae in the eastern kingdoms capable of changing color to any desired shade, but in his homeland, this material was not popular.
Perhaps thanks to their travels, pirates had access to anything foreign merchants could offer, and the captain had decided to take advantage of that. His hair was longer than the others’, shaved at the sides and tied into a small tail with a black ribbon. At first, the man did not raise his gaze; he was too focused on the paper in front of him, apparently working. Beside him stood a bottle with something dark—likely rum, so beloved by pirates even in books.
When he finally lifted his eyes, Mingi felt a chill run through him. He could already read on the man’s face, “You’ll be thrown to feed the sharks today,” and he didn’t like it. The boy didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do, but one of the other pirates—someone from the captain’s crew—shoved him in the back, causing him to fall to the floor. There, without thinking long, he lifted his head again, looking up at the captain from below, as if submitting to his command.
“What have you dragged in here?” he said harshly, inspecting the prince before him. Apparently, he did not recognize him.
“We found him in the prison hold,” so that was what that place had been…“He climbed onto the ship.”
“Stealing something?”
“What can you steal in a prison hold? Rats, maybe…” one of the pirates muttered under his breath, but the captain heard it and shot him an equally irritated look.
The man rose from his desk, and Mingi was surprised to realize that in height he was… probably the smallest of them all. No, really, this captain was small. Even that other, intimidating one looked far more like a pirate in his build and clothing than the true commander of this ship standing before him. But as Mingi remembered, he couldn’t laugh—not in front of pirates, and especially not at this moment, when everyone around was ready to kill him.
“Then why is he here? Throw him into the sea, and that’s it,” He reached for his glass, drinking the liquid inside without even grimacing. Though pirate alcohol was supposed to be extremely harsh.
“There’s another problem,” the tall one began.
At that moment, the captain realized something was wrong. The look in those dark eyes lingered as he examined Mingi and had already noticed that the captive boy’s clothing differed from ordinary garments—it was embroidered by professional tailors and had a rich white color that was impossible if one lived the life of a common mortal. And also… his jewelry… Right now, it wasn’t so noticeable, but if the captain tried to touch him, to check every possible pocket, he would find wealth enough to buy a new ship.
“What is it this time?”
“He’s a prince, captain,” said that handsome pirate.
“What?” The captain was surprised. He set the glass on the table and stepped closer.
“The youngest prince, the one being searched for all over the capital, the one who was supposed to get married today.”
Now the room was filled with silence. No one could find words, and Mingi was afraid to speak at all, so as not to anger the captain needlessly.
“Leave us alone,” came the command in his own voice.
“But—” One of them tried to object, but was quickly cut off.
“Seonghwa, I said, leave us alone.”
All the others—the three pirates—nodded and, within a second, headed for the exit, leaving the prince alone with the cruel captain. The latter, meanwhile, returned to his place, sitting down at the desk, but his gaze never left the boy’s helpless body. A smile grew on his face.
“So, a prince,” Mingi nodded, “and what brought you here?”
Mingi swallowed hard. He was still scared; his hands clenched into fists, trembling slightly, and his mind was empty. Not a single word. Not a single desire to act. Only a confused look that irritated the captain even more.
“I asked you a question,” he slammed his palm against the wooden surface, and the boy flinched, lowering his eyes to the floor. “What are you doing on my ship?”
“I…” he began, feeling his throat dry from anxiety. “I want to ask for something.”
The captain’s eyebrows lifted; he looked at his prisoner with surprise, with a certain suspicion.
“And what does a prince want from an ordinary pirate?”
“I want you to take me somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Any… any place. An island, a country, anything. As far away from this kingdom as possible.”
Now the captain laughed—lightly, running a hand through his hair that had slipped slightly from beneath the ribbon.
“I can send you to the other side, if that’s what you want.”
“No… No, no, I need to… escape.”
“Is this about the wedding?”
The captain glanced at the boy’s ceremonial clothing, and he nodded.
“They’re marrying me to a princess I don’t love.”
“And so what? Why do you need love?” He gestured with his glass. “Love doesn’t exist. Wealth does. And you, the youngest prince, are throwing away an entire kingdom just because you don’t want to marry some princess?”
At that, the captain laughed even harder. He found the situation absurd, and Mingi could understand him. He truly was ready to spend months on a ship, live next to rats, share rum with pirates, and see nothing but the sea, just to rid himself of the walls of his own castle. Of course, he had grown up there—his brothers were there, his parents, his guards—but it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He had no friends; everyone else behaved condescendingly, and even his fiancée seemed like a passive person, so why stay in a place where everything only suffocates you?
“Please,” he said quietly, “I just need to reach some town where they won’t find me.”
The captain let out a heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his hair once again, then his palm stopped at his eyes, rubbing it.
“Your kingdom is looking for you in every port. They’re sure pirates took you. Do you understand what will happen to you when they find out you’re here?”
“They won’t find out,” Mingi assured too quickly, even though he himself didn’t believe his own words.
“And how do you imagine that?”
“I’ll pay.”
After those words, the captain gave him a more serious look. He began to examine him and, in some places, already noticed glints of golden jewelry.
“What are you offering?”
That was the most important thing—pirates loved anything valuable. The main thing was that it sparkled and could bring them a sack of gold; that was what the prince was counting on.
“I took a lot of jewelry with me. With it, you could buy at least a dozen of those ships…”
Of course, it wouldn’t be enough for that many, but the main thing right now was to convince the captain of the truth of his words. He stood up, immediately heading toward the boy’s figure on the floor.
“Show me.”
Mingi held out his hands, bracelets decorated with multicolored stones visible beneath his sleeves. Then he reached into his pockets, spilling out everything he had managed to carry. Everything he could grab. These jewels didn’t belong only to him, but also to his brothers, and some to his mother. Surely, they would be furious if they noticed that, besides the youngest son, the treasures they loved to wear—showing off their status—had disappeared.
“Interesting,” the captain ran his hand over some jewelry, examining it, almost appraising what had been presented to him. “So where do you want to go, you say?”
“Wherever you can take me.”
“There’s one place—not popular for princes,” he stood up. “We can drop you there. But it’ll take over a month to sail, not counting stops.”
“That works for me.”
The captain nodded, and Mingi finally allowed himself to exhale. That didn’t mean he was completely safe now—absolutely not—but a small hope began to take root, brought by this arrangement with the man. Perhaps the others wouldn’t touch him either if the captain treated him as a special guest of the ship. Especially since Mingi was paying for his stay.
“Prince,” the other addressed him again. “Do you even know who I am?”
Mingi’s eyes widened.
He had no idea who this captain was.
But…
“Of course, you’re… the captain everyone talks about.”
“What? What nonsense are you spouting? Who the hell talks about me?”
Apparently, he guessed wrong. The captain had simply tricked him.
“Alright, anyway. What’s your name, prince?”
Strange that he didn’t know. But surely, all these pirates weren’t from the kingdom, so the local monarchy didn’t matter to them.
“I’m Mingi…” he muttered, and the other nodded.
“My name is Hongjoong, but you have no right to call me that. To you, I am the captain. Understand?”
Energetically, Mingi nodded, now afraid to even look at the captain. After that, the captain ordered him to place all the jewelry he had on the table and began examining it, studying each piece. He carefully evaluated the stones, the curves, and the initials engraved on some items, while the prince awkwardly stood nearby. His body still… ached. The hand that had been hurt wasn’t bothering him much, just slightly reminding him of the unpleasant landing, so he reassured himself that there were no serious injuries.
He stood like that, probably for a long time, waiting for the captain to say a word. Hongjoong… it was a strong name. Mingi wondered what the others were called, besides the ones he had already heard. His eyes fell on the captain’s facial features, studying him, trying to memorize every detail, every wrinkle. Despite his short stature, he still seemed formidable, a true commander of this place. Finally, after placing the last piece of jewelry into a small box, he looked at the prince.
“Let’s go; I’ll show you where you can sleep.”
It was wonderful news. He hadn’t expected a room comparable to the one in the castle, but having a place to lie down for a few hours was pleasant. Even if pirates who hadn’t bathed in days were nearby.
Together, they stepped back onto the deck, and the brightness made Mingi squint. Compared to the cabin, it was too bright here—the full moon had risen to its peak, hovering directly above their heads, illuminating everything around them. Predictably, few on the ship wanted to be out, avoiding work at night.
Mingi’s eyes fell on a familiar figure.
The same pirate he had seen at the very beginning of the path. So handsome, though not very tall, with broad shoulders and copper-colored skin. Mingi couldn’t look away from how beautiful this man was—dark, short hair, slightly damp, either from water or sweat, a sly gaze, and such seriousness. When their eyes met, a lightning bolt ran through his body, and the prince thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. Not a princess, not a queen—no one compared to the person he was looking at right now.
“What’s with that look?” Another pirate appeared beside him, nudging him in the shoulder. It was the same tall one who had shoved him before.
“What?” Mingi asked, confused, not understanding what was happening.
“You’re looking at San like you want to eat him.”
San. That was his name. But in a moment, Mingi’s ears flushed red.
“No! He… he’s a man.”
And the captain, who had been standing nearby the whole time, and the tall pirate, looked at him without understanding what the prince meant. Then… another man approached that same San. The other man confidently placed his hands on San’s waist and then gently pressed his lips to his cheek.
Perhaps Mingi’s heart broke.
“Why… why are they—”
“What, never seen people love each other?”
“No, but…” Mingi blinked, not taking his eyes off the pair, “They’re both men!”
It didn’t fit in his mind. This San was handsome, incredible; the prince wanted to look at him like one of the castle’s finest paintings, yet he still didn’t understand why two men were standing in the middle of the ship, allowing such… intimacy. Intimacy that should exist only between a man and a woman—that’s what he had been taught. That every young man should find a young, beautiful woman to create a family together. But how can a family exist with two men? Mingi finally looked away, the redness spreading from his ears to his neck and even his cheeks, his indignation knowing no bounds.
“If they’re both men, then they can’t be together?” the pirate asked.
“By the rules, a man must have a woman,” the prince muttered, though he was beginning to doubt his own words.
“Fuck those rules,” the tall guy patted him on the shoulder, clearly disagreeing. “There are no women on this ship, but you still want to fuck. So you find help from the nearest one.”
“That… that’s wrong.”
“We’re wrong,” the captain now intervened in the conversation. His assessing gaze swept over the prince, taking in the hesitant figure. “And now enough chatter—don’t disturb the lovers.”
Mingi nodded and immediately followed the captain to the place he intended to show him. They reached it quickly, and finally, the prince saw where he would spend the next few months.
It… was a very strange room. First, it was incredibly damp, and the smell was, frankly, terrible. Second, the only thing in the room was a small table in the corner. There wasn’t even a bed or anything that pirates could lie down on to sleep. Mingi grimaced, noticing the unpleasant atmosphere surrounding him.
“I’m… going to live here?”
“Don’t like it? I can suggest going back to the prison compartment.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Quite… comfortable,” but his expression clearly showed that he wanted to escape again. Preferably straight into the sea, and end it all.
He walked a few steps and seemed to step on something—he didn’t dare look, but from the sound, it was probably a dead rat. The captain just laughed, amused by the situation, and agreed to leave the prince on the ship for one reason:
For his own amusement.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have someone clean this up. Now, undress.”
Mingi didn’t understand. Maybe he had forgotten his own language, stopped processing words, or perhaps he simply imagined it. After all, this was the first time he had planned to travel so far by ship, and his head was probably not functioning properly from excitement. The captain couldn’t be asking him to undress. That would be absurd—who in their right mind says such a thing? Mingi pretended not to hear and continued scanning the gray, in some places moldy, walls of his room.
“Are you deaf?” the other man repeated. “I said, take off your clothes.”
“W-why?” Unfortunately, his ignoring tactic didn’t work this time.
“Your clothes are too good. I’ll take it for myself.”
“But… I don’t have any other clothes,” he pressed his hands to his chest, as if trying to convince the captain to give him peace.
But the man didn’t relent. In a moment, he closed the distance between them and began almost tearing the pristine outfit off him. Mingi wanted to push the captain away, but he was too afraid of angering him further.
“You’ll get clothes from Yunho. He’ll have your size, don’t worry.”
Mingi bit his lip. He hadn’t expected that on his very first day, he would end up standing almost naked in front of the very captain who had taken him aboard. He wished fate had turned out differently—perhaps it would have been much easier if the ship were full of ugly, terrifying pirates, and not… young men, and such attractive ones at that.
Pushing away his dark thoughts, Mingi carefully removed one piece after another, first slowly unfastening the buttons, then handing the neatly folded clothes into the captain’s hands. The man looked satisfied. He examined the prince’s nearly bare body, appraising him from his feet up to his head.
Of course, Mingi wasn’t weak. He had trained a lot—any prince went through constant training, where he had to use various weapons, from primitive ones like bows and arrows to the finest modern pistols that had only recently entered the service of the guards. The boy’s body was fit, and he personally considered himself attractive. He simply had never cared for attention from others, especially women, who from time to time might shower him with compliments. He found it unnecessary.
But such a careful, lingering look from the captain was beginning to… irritate him. He felt embarrassed. He handed over the last piece of his outfit, and the other merely nodded, gripping the whole set.
“Wait here. Someone will come back with clothes for you.”
Before leaving, this… Hongjoong glanced at him again and even smiled slightly. And already at the doorway, before exiting the room, he tossed over his shoulder:
“The gods have been generous to you, prince.”
All the same, Mingi was unlucky. Completely, damn unlucky—to end up on this very ship, at this very time, commanded by this very captain. There had been plenty of ships, but out of all of them, he climbed onto this one, fell for a handsome pirate, followed him… and got a headache in return.
And how was he supposed to survive an entire month here?
***
Sleep didn’t just come poorly—it was awful. Right before bedtime, Yunho had come in, and besides another strange look at his body, Mingi received some old clothes and… a bed. A typical pirate hammock. He had read many times about such things in books—supposedly, it was much more comfortable to sleep in hammocks at sea, when the waves rocked the vessel. The main problem, though, was that the prince was used to comfort. He liked sleeping in his own large bed, amid pink pillows, covered in some of the softest materials. None of that existed here. Only a single hammock in a small, damp room, swaying the moment the ship met the waves. It was irritating. Because of it, the boy slept only a few hours, and in the morning, when there was a knock on his door, he felt… dead.
Carefully, he slid out of his place, feeling the cold seep into his bones, as if he weren’t on a ship at all but somewhere in the middle of a winter forest—one he used to like visiting for snowy walks. He opened the door, only to be met by a displeased captain.
“Why are you still sleeping?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” he asked, confused, not understanding why such aggression was being directed at him.
Without a word, the captain grabbed him by the forearm and dragged him toward the middle of the deck. There, the man yanked him closer and stared into his eyes with no less ruthless look.
“What can you do?”
“I… Am I supposed to be able to do something?”
A pause. Silence wrapped around them, unbroken even by the sounds of the sea. The captain’s face now looked more bewildered than angry—he didn’t understand what the other meant, and Mingi, in turn, had no idea what was being expected of him.
“Cook, clean—anything?”
“I… can cook. That’s all.”
The captain’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He looked the boy over once more and grimaced, as if he were staring at some horrific creature.
“Do they not teach princes anything at all? Is all you can do, lounge around all day, and ride horses?”
“What? No, just… I'm not good at cleaning,” he said, guilt creeping into his voice.
“Fine. You’ll learn,” the captain nodded, then grabbed a passing pirate. Mingi still hadn’t learned their names. “Jongho, bring him a bucket and some rags. Let him scrub the deck.”
That sounded… bad. Mingi—and washing—a ship? What was he even supposed to do? How was a ship considered clean? It seemed impossible to scrub something this large, no matter how much he might want to, but here he was, standing and waiting for some “Jongho” to bring him the tools so he could wash absolutely every corner—because otherwise, the captain would definitely be angry. And an angry captain meant a dead Mingi.
Or maybe not. Death seemed like a luxury by comparison.
When the bucket was finally placed in his hands, he stared at it… helplessly. He had no idea where to start. Jongho lingered over him, as if ready to watch his every move, every drop of water used. By the way, was it saltwater or fresh? How did pirates drink? How did they eat? Only now did Mingi realize he hadn’t had breakfast, and his throat was dry after his restless sleep.
“May I… have some water?”
The other boy, Jongho, looked at him in surprise.
“For what?”
Now it was Mingi’s turn to stand there in shock.
“Because I… want to drink.”
“Fine. With rum?”
That fact, at least, Mingi knew. He had read that this was how pirates preserved water on ships—mixing it with rum so it wouldn’t spoil. Still, he shook his head, hoping there might be a cup of something… less alcoholic. He didn’t like alcohol. More precisely, he got drunk far too quickly, and that state irritated him, which was why he seldom drank.
Jongho returned fairly quickly and handed Mingi exactly what he had been hoping for.
Maybe after finishing the cup, he felt much better, because now he didn’t even protest the idea of washing this damn floor. On the other hand, he still needed food—but for some reason, he felt embarrassed to ask. Jongho seemed… uninterested. The boy looked young and barely glanced in his direction, instead watching other pirates pass along the deck, occasionally chatting with them.
“There are… a lot of you on this ship?” Mingi asked suddenly, surprising even himself.
“Not really,” the boy replied, shifting his gaze but keeping his indifferent tone. “The main crew is seven people. Then there are another dozen or so workers, but you won’t see them on deck often. They only come out when there’s actual work to do—or when they’re bored.”
“And how do you… tell the difference?”
“By their clothes. A worker,” Jongho pointed at one of the men holding some kind of fruit, “wears gray. We’ve got more interesting clothes. Usually.”
Jongho wasn’t lying—his outfit clearly stood out from that of the “workers.” He wore a red shirt and dark trousers, while the lower-ranking pirate was dressed in gray short pants and a similarly cropped top. Mingi nodded to himself and silently thanked Yunho for giving him his “appealing” clothes instead of plain workwear.
“Why do you even have workers if I’m the one washing everything anyway?”
“So you’d ask,” Jongho said, irony creeping into his voice. “But really, they help repair the ship. They don’t clean. That’s your job now.”
Mingi rolled his eyes. He didn’t like that at all.
“What positions do the others have?”
“Pff, do you really need to know everything?” The boy nudged him in the shoulder, but didn’t walk away. “Yunho’s our navigator—that tall, handsome one. I’m the boatswain. Wooyoung’s the helmsman, and the cook. Seonghwa is the captain’s right hand—even crueler than Hongjoong,” he added in a whisper, as if afraid the man himself might hear. “Yeosang’s our eyes—he sits in the crow’s nest and sees everything. And San…” Jongho smiled suspiciously. “I’d like to say he’s the musician, but no. He’s the doctor. A strange one—but still a doctor.”
“Why… strange?”
“You’ll see one day.”
He was intrigued. It was a shame that this unbelievably handsome pirate already had a lover—and a man at that—but Mingi couldn’t shake the thought that he wanted to see him again. Maybe even talk to him. He was that charming. And no, Mingi had never felt this way about men before. He hadn’t even considered it. Still, it was a forbidden desire, but…
There were far too many buts in his life.
At last, Jongho left him. The boy headed off in some unknown direction, leaving Mingi alone with dirty water, rags, and a hungry stomach that he couldn’t ignore.
After an hour of work, he had barely made any progress. The ship felt endless. It kept moving and moving, gliding past the blue of the sea as if they were sailing through the sky itself. Everything around him was beautiful. Mingi didn’t feel any headache or dizziness—the things sailors always wrote about. To him, it felt natural, harmonious, as if he were meant to be on a ship, living among pirates, traveling the world like this. Despite the hard work and the lack of every comfort of civilization, he felt that he might even like it here. If only there were food…
After another hour—judging by the sun—a shadow fell over him. When he lifted his head, he saw the very man considered the captain’s right hand. The quartermaster, if Mingi remembered correctly—that was the term used in books. Seonghwa. Majestic. Serious. Jongho had been right—he was more frightening than the captain. The man stood over him, watching silently for several minutes while Mingi, under his gaze, nervously scrubbed the surface, now afraid to stand up or make a single wrong move.
“How much longer are you going to pretend you’re being useful here?”
That was a bit rude. But pirates were always rude.
“The captain told me to do this.”
“The captain should’ve thrown you into the sea on the very first day. You’re lucky you were born with a pretty face and the title of prince,” Seonghwa snorted, then grabbed Mingi by the arm to pull him up from the floor. “That’s enough. You’re only worsening it. Lunch is soon.”
Lunch? So he really would be fed?
Mingi was already curious about what they ate on the ship. Maybe some strange fish, salty, straight from the sea. Or turtle meat—books said it tasted unusual, but delicious if cooked properly. And fruit? He imagined coconuts were the easiest thing to keep on a pirate ship, and sometimes—if the ship had only just left port—there might even be bananas. They hadn’t been at sea long, so he hoped for something filling. His strength was leaving him with every passing minute.
Following Seonghwa, he reached what was probably the kitchen. There, the local cook—Wooyoung—was already spooning something that looked like porridge onto plates, adding dried meat for everyone. One glance was enough to tell it would be incredibly spicy, but that didn’t kill his appetite. Looking around the room, he noticed it was clean, with chairs scattered about and a large table in the center, where all the pirates of that same group of seven were already gathered.
In the far corner of the room stood a stove made of dark material, a faint flame barely visible inside it. When it was Mingi’s turn, he stepped up to the cook, and Wooyoung—with a strange, almost sly smile—handed him a plate filled with the same food everyone else had. At first glance, the porridge wasn’t what he had imagined. It was supposed to look unpleasant, gray—but this one was far too red. They clearly hadn’t gone easy on the pepper.
Looking around the room again, his dark eyes landed on the table as he tried to decide where to sit. The only free spot was right next to Yunho, at the very edge, so he slipped into it, trying not to draw attention.
And that was the exact moment everyone looked at him.
Mingi immediately turned red.
He carefully took the spoon given to him with the plate and scooped up a bit of porridge. As he brought the warm mixture closer to his mouth, the sharp, spicy scent hit his nose at once—but instead of pulling back, he cautiously touched the food with his lips.
His face flushed even more.
And his eyes filled with tears.
Spicy food… was unfamiliar. Yes, in the castle he sometimes ate something exotic, but not… like this.
The pirates started smiling, exchanging whispers, and the boy was certain they were talking about him.
“So, princess, too hot? Or too spicy?” Yunho said almost directly into his ear, practically finishing him off.
“I-it’s fine,” his voice trembled.
“Sure it is.”
And why “princess”? Mingi was a man. He had everything a man was supposed to have, and his official status was that of a young prince, so where had this come from?
With all his strength, he tried to hold himself together, refusing to give the pirates even more reason to mock him. It was incredibly difficult, but he stubbornly lifted the spoon again and kept eating, forcing himself onward. His eyes were full of tears, but he knew that at this moment, showing them would be weakness. He couldn’t give up so easily—especially with all those gazes fixed on him.
Through sheer effort, the burning in his mouth and the sudden pain in his throat, he managed to finish his portion, triumphantly setting the plate aside. The other pirates said nothing, which was strange. They only threw him odd looks before returning to their food, as if Mingi hadn’t existed at all.
And for some reason, that hurt.
He had expected some kind of comment—even a negative one—but received only silence.
These pirates were incomprehensible.
Mingi sat motionless for a few more minutes, trying not to breathe too quickly so the cool air wouldn’t irritate his pepper-burned palate even more—and so the others wouldn’t pay too much attention to him. His gaze was fixed on the now-empty plate, as if it might somehow provide answers to all the questions that refused to leave his head. And why did all of this have to happen to him? But on the other hand, this was exactly the kind of life he had dreamed of. So this was what he got.
“You’re staring at that plate like some pastry’s about to magically appear on it, or whatever it is you stuff into your mouths in castles when you’re hungry,” Yunho’s voice cut through his thoughts. The pirate stood up, stretching until his joints cracked, then nodded toward the exit, clearly addressing him. “Time to get back to work.”
Mingi clenched his fists. He wanted to protest, to remind them of his dignity—which was already sinking to the bottom of the sea—but the looks from the other pirates quickly extinguished any resistance, no matter how strong it might have been. So in the end, the boy only rose in silence, feeling a dull ache in his back from all the activity. He regretted not valuing his training before. Back then, it had seemed so hard, so painful—but now, sitting here among pirates, scrubbing the deck and having rights on par with a rat, life felt deeply unfair.
Stepping out into the fresh air brought relief at first. An illusion of strange calm spread around him, though just moments ago, violent waves—like a stormy sea—had been crashing in his head. Mingi dropped to his knees and began rubbing already dirty water across the dark planks of the deck, seemingly only making things worse. The work was exhausting and humiliating for someone who had never touched anything like this in his life, but he had no choice. Each time, he reminded himself: I chose this myself. He chose the path, abandoned the castle and his future wife, and agreed to travel with the captain. So it was too late to complain now.
As he weakly scrubbed the deck, his thoughts drifted back to his father. The king had always said that everyone only wanted to use him, that no one would ever truly need him—and here he was, on a ship, useful to pirates as… a boy they could humiliate. Or forced to clean. It was so different from his old life. No balls, no parents scolding him for every step, no infuriating brothers who were far too perfect compared to Mingi. Just saltwater, unbearably spicy food, and people calling him “princess” because… Mingi himself didn’t understand why.
“Careful ahead!” a shout suddenly rang out from above, from the crow’s nest.
Mingi lifted his head, wiping sweat from his forehead with a dirty hand. One of the pirates standing nearby looked up, then toward the horizon, where fog was already beginning to gather. The sun, which had recently painted the sky in shades of blue, now looked like a pale blot behind a thickening veil. He hadn’t even noticed how lost in thought he’d been—or when the weather had changed.
“What is that?” he murmured to himself.
But this didn’t feel like an ordinary shift in weather. The air grew heavy, and a silence crept in—slick and expectant—settling over the ship after the shout from above. He noticed the quartermaster, Seonghwa, striding sharply onto the deck, narrowing his eyes as he stared into the fog that was rolling in faster and faster.
“Be ready,” he threw out in an overly serious tone. Then he pointed at Mingi. “And you—better hide somewhere.”
Suddenly—even to himself—Mingi felt his heart speed up, real fear tightening in his chest. He didn’t understand why Seonghwa had started acting so strangely, or why the crew around him was rushing about as if they knew exactly what was about to happen. He noticed pirates moving past him with weapons already in hand; even the ordinary workers looked more anxious than usual. He wanted to stop someone, to ask what this all meant—but no one paid him any attention. Even the captain, who usually would have shoved him aside or thrown a sharp remark his way, simply passed by as if Mingi had turned into a ghost.
Maybe that was for the best.
Mingi stood still for a few more seconds, as if truly trying to become part of the deck—unnoticeable, like a plank beneath their feet, preferably blending in by color. Seonghwa’s words still echoed in his head, though he couldn’t fully grasp it. Hide somewhere. What did that even mean? Where was he supposed to hide? Go back down to the rats in the lowest hold, or lock himself in his room while the pirates faced whatever fun awaited them here on deck?
He took a step back, nearly tripping over the same bucket of dirty water he had been scrubbing with just moments ago. His gaze darted across the deck—no one stopped for even a second. Someone was hauling heavy ropes, someone else was pulling crates of gunpowder from beneath the planks, and Seonghwa was already standing near the bow, checking his weapon. Strangely enough, he looked calm in the middle of all this chaos, as if this wasn’t the first time.
And probably not the last.
The fog… it was getting stranger by the second. It wasn’t just rolling in—it was crawling onto the ship, like some kind of blanket. This wasn’t natural. It was wrong. Maybe Mingi just didn’t know enough about the sea; perhaps this was how things were supposed to be—but everything about it made questions coil in his mind.
“This isn’t just a storm,” he muttered, ignoring Seonghwa’s order to hide.
The sea beyond the rail was calm. Too calm. It shouldn’t be like this. The waves no longer crashed against the ship’s hull; they barely brushed it, as if afraid to disturb whatever was hiding in the fog. That was when Mingi started to think. Sometimes, in his favorite pirate stories, there were tales of strange magic—and even stranger magical artifacts that could do whatever their owner wished.
Could this be…?
No.
Things like that didn’t exist in their world.
Their world was too realistic, too ordinary for the supernatural to have a place in it.
“Captain, they’re close,” Seonghwa’s voice rang out, muffled, as if the sound itself was drowning in the enchanted veil. “The Shadows are here again.”
Hongjoong appeared on the quarterdeck instantly. The captain looked wholly different now—far too serious. His clothes matched the mood; he was ready for a fight. The weapons in his hands and the sword at his belt made that unmistakably clear.
“This is the second time this month they’ve tried to attack us,” he said loudly. “Are they really that bold?”
Mingi, still standing in the middle of the deck, felt utterly improper. He was like a stain on a white canvas—bright, inappropriate, and helpless. He wanted to obey Seonghwa’s order, to run to his cabin, bolt the door, and wait for it all to end. But his legs felt glued to the wood. Fear—sticky and heavy, like the fog itself—paralyzed him.
He saw Yunho glance his way for a brief moment, and in that look there was only one clear thought:
Why are you still here?
Suddenly, a sound emerged from the fog. Something like a gunshot, but too distant. On the horizon, a black dot appeared at first—so far away—yet with every passing minute, it drew closer and closer. As it approached, the crew members visibly tensed, but none of them abandoned their positions.
Now Mingi understood that it was too late to hide. He pressed his back against the mast, feeling the rough bark scrape his delicate skin through his clothes. A prince who had dreamed of adventure, of escaping the castle, had finally gotten exactly what he wanted. And now he would have given all the gold in the world just to return to that dull church, to his dull fiancée who would never love him anyway.
A heavy impact against the ship’s side made the deck buck beneath his feet, and the prince barely managed to stay upright, clutching a coarse rope hanging from the mast with his fingers. In the very next second, grappling hooks flew out of the fog.
“Forward!” the captain’s voice rang out, and all the pirates obeyed him without hesitation.
Before this, they had been called the Shadows. And Mingi fully understood why. They were pirates—undoubtedly pirates; no one else should have been sailing these waters.
Dressed in dark rags, faces hidden behind masks, they used the fog around them like a weapon. Mingi watched in frozen horror as one of the attackers vaulted over the railing and, with a wild cry, rushed at Wooyoung. The boy who had been slyly smiling at him barely an hour ago while serving him porridge now drew two long knives with unbelievable speed. Steel clashed against steel, and the sound flooded the deck, carrying even farther through the thick fog.
True madness broke out around them. The ringing of sabers, dull thuds, echoes of pistol shots, and the smell of gunpowder instantly mixed with the salty sea air. Mingi felt as though he had stumbled into some horrifying theater where everyone knew their role—except him. Or as if he had been thrown into an arena. Once, he had visited a country—one kingdom—where the best day of the year was considered to be the great battles in an open field, until everyone slaughtered one another.
Now, he was there too.
He saw Yunho knock an enemy back into the sea with a single powerful blow; he saw Seonghwa take down two attackers at once, looking utterly flawless while doing so. The other pirates, whose names he remembered less clearly, didn’t lose their grip either. That same handsome San acted far more cautiously, cutting throats, while the captain allowed no one to come within a meter of him.
But Mingi himself… he was no one. He simply ran to a corner of the deck, stood there, and pretended he didn’t exist. He didn’t even have a small knife to defend himself.
“And why are you still here?” one of the pirates barked—he thought his name was Yeosang. He deflected an attack from one of the Shadows and then rushed off in another direction, leaving Mingi alone in his corner.
And then, suddenly, he was noticed. No, not by someone from “his” crew—by the enemy.
To the pirate, he looked like easy prey, like a sack of gold accidentally left in the middle of a fight. No weapon, no desire to fight, no suitable clothing.
The attacker began to approach slowly, tossing a notched knife from one hand to the other. Mingi stepped back until his spine hit the railing. Cold water breathed down the back of his neck, and ahead of him, there was only death, shaped like an unknown pirate. He truly felt like a princess who had stumbled into trouble.
He was not a warrior. He was not a hero of pirate ballads. He was merely a runaway prince who had wanted freedom so badly that he hadn’t thought about the price.
The pirate bared his teeth in a vicious grin and swung for the strike. At that moment, the boy rolled to the side, causing the blade to meet wood instead of his own flesh. Mingi lunged forward, dodging more blows, and it looked a little chaotic—until he finally pulled himself together.
Then he slid so that his legs collided directly with the other pirate’s and tried to knock him unbalanced. It was more difficult than he expected, but the enemy hadn’t anticipated it, lost his focus—and the next blow landed straight in his chest, tearing a pained groan from him.
Taking advantage of the enemy’s brief hesitation, Mingi sharply twisted his body. Fingers that had never known real combat—only training—now clamped down on the pirate’s wrist with unexpected strength. It was a movement he had honed hundreds of times under the watchful eye of a strict fencing instructor in the gardens of his castle and later with his ruthless brothers. Back then, he had hated those drills, but now… every drop of sweat shed had paid off.
Mingi struck his opponent sharply with his elbow to the jaw, hearing an unpleasant crack, and with one deft motion wrenched the knife from his fingers. The metal felt incredibly heavy in his hand, yet at the same time, right for what was unfolding around him. As if he had finally found a missing part of himself.
The pirate, stunned by such resistance from a helpless boy in the corner of the deck, tried to lunge forward again, but Mingi was faster. He didn’t think, didn’t analyze. He simply let his body act. The blade quickly found its target and drove straight beneath the pirate’s ribs, piercing his armor—or rather, the lack of it, considering there was no protection to speak of. Apparently, these Shadows were too overconfident to wear any. On the other hand, Mingi didn’t have any either, which meant he would be killed quickly at the first opportunity.
This was nothing like training dummies. It was something hot, sticky, and far too real. The pirate choked on his own cry, his eyes widening as they met Mingi’s, and the next moment he went limp, sliding down onto the deck.
The prince froze for a second, staring at his hands. The enemy’s blood was already mixing with the filthy water beneath his feet.
He had killed a man.
His first man.
Before this, the worst thing he had ever done was injure his brother’s palm during a training bout, after which his back had been beaten with sticks so badly he couldn’t lie on it for a week. And now, there was someone else’s blood on his hands. He—the youngest prince, whose hands were meant to smell of perfume and hold those cursed pastries—was now stained with real blood.
But there was no time left for thoughts.
Two more Shadows, having noticed the death of their comrade, rushed toward him. Mingi tightened his grip on the knife, feeling that he needed a better weapon—at least a sword, not to mention a pistol—yet he was determined to face his enemies even if there were two of them.
He lunged toward the first attacker, easily dodging the wide swing of a saber. His movements were graceful, exactly as he had been taught—because he knew no other way. He slipped beneath the enemy’s arm, leaving a deep gash on his thigh, and immediately turned to face the second one.
The second attacker, enraged by the boy’s speed, growled and made a sharp lunge, trying to stab Mingi through. But for the prince, who had been trained and beaten for mistakes for years, this move was far too predictable, far too “clumsy.” The boy didn’t step back—on the contrary, he stepped forward, closing the distance so quickly that the enemy couldn’t change the angle of the strike in time.
Metal clanged, the pirate’s hand shook, and Mingi, seizing the moment, spun on his axis. The heavy saber flew from the pirate’s fingers and fell to the deck, allowing him to grab it in time. The weapon was unfamiliar, too heavy, and different from what he had wielded in his training fights, yet it was useful at that moment. Better than what he had used for his first attacks.
Instantly, both enemies ceased to exist on this plane. Not literally—their bodies simply collapsed onto the wooden deck, while Mingi moved on, counting two more lives added to his tally, taken by his own hands. That made three people he had killed with his own hands. By his own skill.
Now, finally, he was no longer a defenseless princess.
His next moves became more aggressive. Tasting the reality of battle, he rushed toward the other pirates, pushing through the fight. He was still afraid of killing; it felt strange, but instead, he did everything he could to help the others—distracting enemies. When he approached a Shadow, they focused on him, trying to pierce his body with a crooked saber, expecting weakness—but with light pivots, Mingi maneuvered them into a trap where a bullet from one of his pirates met the enemy.
For this, someone—probably Jongho—even threw a small compliment: “Fighting almost like a man.”
Little, but pleasant.
The Shadows began to falter. Apparently, they hadn’t expected Captain Haechan’s small crew to adapt to battle so quickly, and that even the heavy burden of the prince could take down a couple of pirates. One by one, the enemies began retreating toward the sides, trying to hide in their mist, which still cloaked both ships. Their movements became chaotic; they no longer attacked—only defended, preparing an escape.
Mingi stopped near the mast, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell, and his heart pounded so strongly it echoed in the tips of his fingers, still gripping the captured saber tightly. He watched the last of the attackers leap back onto their ship and felt a strange sense of triumph. Not only had he survived and defended himself, but he had also helped the others.
The fog began to slowly disperse, revealing the deck, scarred from battle. Still, Mingi had expected it to be worse… Then, his gaze drifted to the enemy ship, and there, right at the very edge, he saw a pirate holding a bow with an arrow nocked. The arrow flew straight at him—defenseless, standing in the open on the deck, a living target. At first, he didn’t feel the impact, just a simple push to his shoulder, forcing him to step back. He blinked rapidly.
And then his body began to burn. A wooden arrow jutted out of his shoulder, piercing through the fabric of his shirt.
“What the…” he whispered, unable to believe that someone still used such a weapon.
In this era, ever since new firearms had begun to spread, seeing arrows was strange. He could have understood if it were a crossbow bolt—those were massive, powerful, capable of piercing even a skull, on par with bullets—but… an arrow from a regular bow? So thin it could snap from a single blow? And yet the pain was entirely real. Sharp, pulsing, so real that a metallic taste filled his mouth.
Mingi tried to raise his hand to touch the wound, but his own body refused to obey him. The saber slipped from his fingers with a clang, striking the deck boards. His legs suddenly went weak, and the faces of the pirates rushing around him began to blur into one bright, shapeless smear.
He had truly been wounded. Right on the shoulder. A wound. The prince stood in the middle of a pirate ship with an arrow lodged in his body, watching as his own blood slowly soaked into his clothes, turning it into something filthy and horrifying.
“Princess?” a voice sounded nearby—it was Yunho.
He looked dirty too, though not as much as Mingi himself. He placed a hand on Mingi’s uninjured shoulder to steady him, examining him. The captain seemed to step closer as well, and they exchanged a few words between themselves—Mingi couldn’t make them out; the sounds felt too distant, too muffled.
The world around him became strange. At once, it was a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and a blurred stain that made it impossible to focus on anything. He felt strong hands holding him, then guiding him in one direction. Each step was difficult; he felt the pain throbbing intensely in his weakened body.
“Just don’t die here, princess, that’d be a shame,” the boy beside him muttered, and for a moment it seemed like he truly cared.
They entered some kind of room that smelled of dried herbs, clean cloth, and probably alcohol. There, Mingi noticed him—the same handsome pirate who looked so calm, as if an injured boy were nothing more than an everyday occurrence. San examined him, his gaze stopping on the arrow.
“Bring him here,” San ordered, pointing to a low table covered with clean fabric.
Yunho helped Mingi sit down carefully, so as not to cause more pain. The prince breathed heavily, his forehead slick with cold sweat. San stepped closer, and his warm hands touched the boy’s uninjured shoulder.
“You’ll live, so don’t worry about that,” San looked into his eyes, and Mingi felt even more enchanted. His voice worked like a sedative, making his heart beat a little slower. “It’s going to be a bit unpleasant now. I need to clear the wound.”
He took a short knife and, without waiting for an answer, cut through the thin fabric of the shirt in one sharp motion, from the collar all the way down. The clothes, stained with dirt and blood, fell apart to the sides, revealing the prince’s pale skin. Now, under the dim lantern light, not only was the deep wound from the arrow visible, but also old bruises and small scratches gained while scrubbing the deck or during other activities on the ship. Sleeping here, after all, wasn’t particularly safe either.
San examined the arrow carefully.
“Yunho, hold him in case he decides to scream.”
Mingi felt Yunho’s heavy palms settle on his shoulders, pressing him down against the table. Fear washed over him again in a wave. He watched San grasp the wooden shaft of the arrow.
“And now…”
The pain came instantly. When San began to pull the arrow out, Mingi felt as if his shoulder were being torn out by the roots. He bit his lip until it bled to keep from screaming, but a muffled groan still escaped his throat. Black spots swam before his eyes. Yunho’s hands on his shoulders tightened, as if he expected the boy to start thrashing.
“Just a little more, just a little more…” San whispered, working quickly and professionally.
Even so, it still hurt.
With a sound that nearly made Mingi nauseous, the metal finally left his flesh. The blood flowed more heavily, but San immediately pressed a clean cloth soaked in something burning against the wound.
Mingi threw his head back, staring at the dark ceiling of the cabin. He felt San now carefully wiping the blood from his chest and stomach, checking for any other serious injuries. But no—thankfully, this arrow was the worst thing that had happened to Mingi so far. He felt so vulnerable—half undressed, wounded, and powerless before these people.
“Well, that’s it,” San’s voice turned pleasant. “I told you you’d live.”
“Didn’t really want to,” Mingi muttered, shifting to sit more comfortably. He still felt the unbearable pain and couldn’t do anything about it.
At that moment, the door creaked heavily open, and the captain himself entered the compartment. Hongjoong looked tired, his face smeared with soot, a fresh cut visible on his sleeve, yet he carried himself just as confidently as one would expect from someone of his rank. He stopped by the table, examining Mingi’s torn shoulder and the blood-soaked cloth San had already set aside.
“Alive?”
“Yes, though a bit shaken,” San said, packing away his instruments. “Any other wounded?”
To that question, the captain only shook his head, ignoring his cut. Apparently, he didn’t consider it a serious injury that required attention.
“He’s tougher than he looks at first glance,” San added, wrapping a tight bandage around the wound. “A few more days and he’ll be able to hold his rag again. Or a saber—depending on what the captain orders.”
Hongjoong nodded at that, accepting the boy’s condition.
“We really got lucky today. The Shadows rarely retreat so quickly. Looks like they decided the game wasn’t worth the candle once we started fighting back so brazenly.”
Mingi frowned. Despite the pain, his curiosity flared, and he addressed the captain.
“Who were they? Those… Shadows?”
“Pirates, the worst kind,” the captain leaned his lower back against one of the tables while the other two busied themselves with their tasks. “If most attack for gold and profit, the Shadows do it for their own pleasure. They stole the Fog Artifact, and now they’re so brave,” he sounded almost offended. “That ancient piece of junk now creates fog around them, and they decided to use it in their raids. If I ever meet their captain, I’ll personally cut out his eyes and throw them into the sea.”
For a moment, Mingi forgot about the pain. He stared at the captain, feeling complete confusion bloom in his head.
“What… stole what? An artifact?”
He looked around at everyone else, and they stood there, not understanding what exactly Mingi meant or what he was even asking. But the boy continued.
“An artifact is… magical? Does magic even exist? That’s some kind of fairy tale… My books always described such things as simple stories or legends that don’t exist. Made up just to tell children…”
Silence fell over the room.
San paused mid-motion, holding the end of the bandage, and slowly raised his eyes to Mingi. Yunho pushed himself away from the wall, looking at the prince as if he had just said something utterly delusional, while Hongjoong simply tilted his head to the side, watching him with surprise and, perhaps, pity.
“Fairy tales, you say?” Yunho was the first to break the silence, letting out a short, dry laugh. “Look, princess. You just took an arrow to the shoulder, fired from the heart of a fog that appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of a clear, calm day. And that’s a fairy tale to you, too?”
“But… that makes no sense,” Mingi insisted, though there was less certainty in his voice now. At this point, even he no longer understood what exactly he was trying to prove.
Hongjoong stepped closer and leaned down until his face was right in front of Mingi’s. The prince caught the smell of gunpowder and blood coming from the captain.
“Maybe in your castle, you were taught that things like this don’t exist. But the world is far more interesting than you think,” Hongjoong said quietly. “If you want to survive this voyage, you’ll have to forget everything you once knew. At sea, magic isn’t a fairy tale. It’s reality. Someone’s weapon. And that’s exactly how we were attacked today, whether you believe it or not.”
Mingi shuddered, feeling a chill run down his spine. He looked at their faces—serious, grim. They weren’t joking. They weren’t trying to scare him. They were simply stating what had happened.
“So you’re saying that… if such dangerous things as this Fog Artifact exist…” Mingi began, trying to bring order to the chaos in his head, “Then there must be others too? Something that protects, or heals, or—”
“Most of the ‘good’ artifacts have long been resting on the seabed, princess,” Hongjoong cut him off, adjusting his clothes. “The water doesn’t like giving back what it’s swallowed once. They’re down there somewhere, overgrown with coral and silt, waiting for fools brave enough to dive for it. Or for those fools to be waiting for mermaids who guard the artifacts. And honestly,” the captain patted his saber, “I prefer good steel and a well-aimed shot. Magic is fickle, but gunpowder—it always works, as long as you keep it dry.”
That, too, made little sense. Why wouldn’t he want to seek magic if it truly existed?
“Then how are you planning to fight the Shadows?” Mingi glanced at San, who was just finishing putting away the medical tools. “If they have fog, and you only have steel…”
“The Shadows aren’t our main enemies,” the captain said quickly. “They’re just a bunch of scoundrels who’ve gotten carried away. They’re not that frightening as opponents—most of them can’t even hold a saber properly, since even you managed to take some of them down.” That stung a little. What exactly did “even you” mean for Mingi himself? “Besides… we have a crew.”
At that moment, San stepped closer to Mingi, holding a glass of what looked like ordinary water. The prince watched his movements, spellbound. There had always been something about San… strange. Magnetic. From the very first second he had seen the medic, Mingi had felt an inexplicable fondness for him. He had chalked it up to San’s beauty, but now, in the light of this talk about magic, other pieces were starting to fall into place in his mind.
“Drink. It’s important right now,” San said gently.
Mingi took the glass. The water was crystal clear, cool, and… unbelievably delicious. So fresh, as if it had just been drawn from a mountain spring, not stored for weeks in wooden barrels deep in the ship’s hold.
“Where did you get water like this?” he asked in surprise. “When I traveled by ship with my family, the water was always… stale.”
“That’s San’s work,” Hongjoong nodded.
The prince immediately shifted his gaze from the glass to the medic. San merely smiled—slyly, as if he had been waiting for the next words.
“San is a siren, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Yunho said plainly, as if he were talking about the weather. “His abilities are enough to keep us from dying of thirst in the middle of the sea.”
“Not just from thirst,” Hongjoong added, nodding toward the medical instruments.
A siren medic.
What kind of miracle ship was this?
And what next? A kraken captain? A fairy quartermaster?
“A siren? The ones that lure sailors onto rocks with their singing?”
“I prefer healing to killing,” San replied calmly, taking the empty glass. “I can do plenty of things and try to help with that in battle, but what I like most is saving people. Especially if it’s someone I work with. Like these pirates.”
Mingi froze, looking at San as if he were seeing him for the first time. Now he understood that strange pull. Legends said that sirens possessed an incredible charm—one impossible to resist. This wasn’t just a “handsome guy”; it was a creature of another kind.
“And all of you here are—”
“No, we’re ordinary pirates,” the captain cut him off. “Everyone has their secrets, but still, we’re no different. Only San is… our special one.”
After that, the captain moved away from his spot. He cast one more glance at Mingi, assessing his wound and… his body. Again. The prince flushed slightly. He wasn’t used to being looked at like that. Then the captain simply nodded, as if addressing his pirates without words, and left, leaving the three of them alone.
Mingi watched him go. He wanted to catch up and ask more questions—especially about magic—because until now, he had lived without even imagining what wonders existed in this world.
Magic. Artifacts. Sirens. All of it was real. All of it was here, right beside him. Mermaids probably existed, too, considering the captain had mentioned them…
When San finished with his medical torture, Yunho helped Mingi get up and walk to the cabin. There, instead of a hammock, an improvised bed had already been prepared—a wooden frame someone had set up, with clean blankets and a mattress laid out on top of it.
“The captain said that with a hole in your shoulder, you’d just fall out of a hammock, and we don’t need you cracking your head open too,” Yunho grumbled. Still, there was far more care in his movements as he helped Mingi lie down than strictly necessary. “You can sleep, princess. You’re the most beat-up one among us.”
When the door closed behind the pirate and silence settled over the cabin—broken only by the waves gently brushing against the ship—Mingi was finally left alone with his thoughts. He lay on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, feeling every cell in his body throb at once with exhaustion and pain.
Everything that had happened over the past day felt like some absurd dream. Not long ago, he had been standing in front of a church, fully aware of how grand the plan he had to carry out was. He remembered his father’s cold gaze the day before the wedding, as well as the perfectly pressed suit he was supposed to wear. He remembered his brothers mocking him. It had all been so recent—and now it had turned into nothing more than a memory. A place no one would ever return him to. Back then, he had dreamed of only one thing: escape.
And now he was here. He had escaped.
That freedom had come at a great cost. A comfortable life, his own health, a castle—and even his title.
But somehow…
It was for the best.
Mingi carefully moved the fingers of his injured arm, feeling the wound ache beneath the bandage. Three deaths. Today, he had taken three lives with his own hands. And helped take several more. He—a prince who was afraid of even accidentally crushing a butterfly in the garden—had killed today to survive. His hands no longer smelled of expensive soap, but of gunpowder, iron, and blood. Had that made him worse? Or was this perhaps the very “real life” he had read about in books?
And magic… Just the thought that San was a siren made his head spin. Magic wasn’t a fairy tale. It was here, close by.
All this time, it had been hidden from him. Books always portrayed magic as something strange, something that didn’t exist in this world, and mermaids and sirens as legends—dangerous creatures that seduced and killed sailors who only wanted to go home. But in reality, it was all completely different. Perhaps the king and his closest advisors deliberately concealed the fact that something not of this world existed, presenting magic as something destructive, so people wouldn’t go searching for artifacts.
He remembered his library, where everything was predictable and safe. But return there? No. Even with a hole in his shoulder, even with Wooyoung’s painfully spicy food for lunch and enduring the others’ teasing, he felt more alive than he ever had in all twenty-three years of his “golden” existence.
Under the ship’s steady rocking, the pain began to dull, melting into a heavy sleep. Gradually, an understanding settled in of just how astonishing this world was—and how much there still was for him to learn.
***
Five days passed, and each of it was a true test of endurance for Mingi. He spent most of his time either in the infirmary or in his cabin, where San became his most frequent visitor. This siren… this boy did more than just change bandages—he soothed him. Mingi didn’t know what other kind of magic flowed through the blood of that mysterious being, but things felt better whenever San was nearby. Still, Mingi was, to some extent, afraid to interact with him: he knew San already had a lover, and angering a pirate was the last thing he needed. When San touched his shoulder with cool fingers or quietly hummed something under his breath, barely moving his lips, the pain receded faster than from any medicine. It was pleasant.
Mingi watched him with a quiet sense of wonder. Now that he knew the truth, every gesture San made seemed imbued with something enigmatic. Even the most ordinary things—like brewing tea or bringing him a ripe piece of fruit—felt special. And the speed at which the wound healed was unnatural. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been able to move his arm for weeks; here, by the third day, he could already carefully lift his elbow without clenching his teeth in agony.
Yet even a siren’s magic couldn’t save him from boredom aboard the ship. It turned out that doing nothing for days on end was… deeply depressing. Mingi grew restless. He tried to read the books Yunho had kindly found for him, but the words on the pages felt pale and incomprehensible. Perhaps they had all been written by pirates, who scribbled in their own strange way, impossible to decipher. So, at last, Mingi did what he had been wanting to do for a long time.
He went out into the fresh air.
His shoulder still ached, reminding him of itself with sharp pricks at every sudden movement, but overall Mingi felt almost healthy. He stood by the railing, gripping it firmly with his uninjured hand, and stared at the horizon. Where the blue of the sky met the dark navy of the sea, a thin green line began to appear. Land.
After the skirmish with those pirates, part of the supplies had become unusable: some barrels of fresh water were pierced by bullets, and the magical fog seemed to have affected the food in some strange way, causing it to spoil faster. The ship needed restocking.
The deck buzzed with its usual chaos. Pirates were preparing to go ashore, checking empty sacks, barrels, and weapons. Mingi saw the main crew already gathering, rereading lists of necessary items, and Seonghwa double-checking something on the map while discussing the route with Hongjoong.
And this would be his first time setting foot on land since he ran away. From their conversations, he understood that it was a small island, surviving thanks to passing sailors who brought money to the locals.
“Happy to feel something solid under your feet again, instead of rotten planks?” a voice sounded beside him.
The captain.
Mingi already knew that tone.
“I’m just glad to see at least some greenery.”
The land was drawing closer, and with it came a realization: his old story had ended back there, in the castle. Here, in the middle of the endless sea, on a ship full of secrets and magic, an entirely different one was beginning. Hongjoong merely gave a short snort at his remark about greenery and, resting his elbows on the railing, looked out in the same direction as the prince.
“Enjoy it while you can. Just stay close to one of ours. Yunho, for example. He likes spending time with you,” he tossed out without even turning his head. “This island is a hole—but in holes like this, eyes tend to grow even on the walls. The last thing we need is someone recognizing you or sticking a knife in you in some alley over your royal manners.”
The disembarkation happened faster than Mingi could mentally prepare for it. The ship gently nudged its stopping point, and when he finally stepped onto land, the world traitorously swayed around him. Legs that had grown used to the ship’s constant motion now refused to believe in the still surface beneath his feet. Mingi took a few unsteady steps, feeling as though he were learning how to walk all over again, which earned him a few laughs from the nearby pirates. When he turned his head, he saw two of them—Yunho and Jongho.
The port greeted them with chaos. Everything blended here—sounds, smells—overwhelming enough to make one’s head spin. Of course, it was nothing like Mingi’s hometown, the familiar streets of the kingdom, where order was enforced even in the most remote districts. Here, everything was different. It smelled of dried fish, cheap rum, dampness, and spices. Narrow streets, thrown together from wood and stone, pressed close to one another as if trying to cling to the slope of the hill.
Life surged all around them. Merchants shouted prices, trying to lure customers in; half-naked children slipped between sailors’ legs; and in the shadows of the buildings sat people with such grim faces that Mingi instinctively pulled his injured arm closer to his body. Everything here was rough, vivid, and dangerously alluring.
Dangerous.
That was the best word for this place. It was dangerous. Everyone here—even children—had some kind of weapon tucked away, from pistols to simple slingshots. All were ready to defend themselves if uninvited guests ever came to the island.
Mingi watched, mesmerized, a woman selling strange fruits on a corner stall—they were spiky and purple, nothing like the apples or peaches from the royal gardens.
“Princess, don’t stare.” Yunho lightly bumped him in the uninjured shoulder, pulling him back to reality. “This isn’t a walk in the park. We need to find supplies and avoid trouble before the sun drops below the horizon.”
Mingi nodded, trying to absorb every image around him. For him, this dirty, noisy port was a true wonder. No one bowed to him here; no one expected him to follow etiquette. He was just one of the crowd—a grimy boy with a bandaged shoulder. And that feeling was more intoxicating than any wine.
They moved deeper into the market, and Mingi noticed how Hongjoong’s pirates instantly spread out, keeping one another within sight. Even here, on solid ground, they stayed close. They knew that every detail had to be watched, that danger had to be spotted before it struck. The prince tightened his grip on the bag he had been given for small purchases and took a deep breath.
Even Jongho had peeled away, leaving Mingi with just one pirate. Yunho pushed confidently through the crowd, not particularly concerned with whether the prince was keeping up. Mingi had to maneuver between baskets of fragrant herbs and drunken sailors, careful not to jostle his injured shoulder.
“Like it here, princess?” Yunho threw over his shoulder, stopping at a stall selling dried meat. His eyes were already choosing what he wanted while the vendor rattled off prices. “Ever bought anything yourself in your life, or did an army of servants always trail after you with sacks of gold?”
Mingi carefully stopped beside him, studying the piles of goods with curiosity. Strangely enough, no insects were buzzing around, as if the island simply didn’t have any.
“I have,” he answered calmly. “But usually it was silks, rare books, or jewelry. And the merchants came to the castle themselves, laying everything out on tables the guards provided… It was different. It didn’t smell like food, and no one tried to steal your purse every minute.”
Yunho let out a short laugh and, after paying and receiving the bundle, tossed the chosen piece of meat into the bag Mingi was holding.
“Wow. You had a whole market right in the castle?”
At that, the prince only nodded, and they moved on. Yunho turned out to be a surprisingly meticulous shopper. He checked every barrel of grain, sniffed the tobacco critically, and haggled so fiercely that Mingi sometimes felt embarrassed. He even found himself red when Yunho raised his voice in an argument with someone. So for most of the way, the prince silently packed the purchases into the bag, feeling it grow heavier with each step, the weight starting to dig into his uninjured shoulder.
“You know,” Mingi began once they had moved away from yet another vegetable stall, “I always thought pirates just took whatever they needed. That’s how my books described you. I never imagined you with bags at a market, fighting for a discount on potatoes.”
“We’re not barbarians,” Yunho snorted, taking hold of a heavy sack of grain. “If all you ever do is rob, eventually every fleet in these waters will be hunting you down, and you’ll be an enemy even on neutral ground. Sometimes it’s easier to pay a few coins than to waste gunpowder and men. Besides, in ports, the captain has his own ears and eyes. While we’re buying food, we’re buying information,” He took a few steps back. “Today you buy pepper from an old man, slip him a couple of extra coins, and tomorrow he passes along information about some merchant ship’s route.”
Mingi nodded, digesting what he’d heard. The world of pirates was turning out to be far more complex than the simple images he’d carried in his head. It was an entire system, with its own rules, economy, and even a kind of code of honor. Well—he’d heard of codes of honor before, but these seemed very different from the real thing.
“Here,” Yunho said, holding out a bright purple fruit Mingi had noticed back near the entrance. “Try it. Dragon’s eye. No way they grew this in your gardens.”
The prince hesitantly took the fruit. The skin was spiky, but when he carefully bit into it, his mouth filled with unexpectedly sweet, cool juice.
“It’s… tasty,” he murmured, wiping the juice from his chin with his own sleeve. Back in the castle, he would never have done something like that.
“That’s what I thought,” Yunho said with satisfaction. “Welcome to reality, princess. It’s dirty, and it hurts, but at least the fruit is real—and actually tastes delicious.”
They were passing rows of clothing and fabrics when Mingi suddenly felt someone’s gaze on him. He turned—and saw Hongjoong. The captain was standing by a stall of antique trinkets, talking to a short man, but his eyes were fixed squarely on Mingi. It was a little… unsettling. The way the captain looked at him made his skin prickle with discomfort. And then—
Hongjoong beckoned him over with a gesture.
So, with no real choice, Mingi headed toward him together with Yunho.
“Get everything?” the captain asked, his gaze sliding over the heavy bags now hanging not only from Mingi’s good shoulder, but also from Yunho’s hands. Then his eyes returned to the prince, taking in his clothes.
Today, Mingi had been a bit luckier. He was wearing a white shirt and simple black trousers—things he’d been given “not for working on the ship” but to go ashore without embarrassing the captain in the rags he’d had before. Still, even this set him apart from the others. The pirates looked… better. Much better. Their clothes seemed far pricier.
“You look like a ragged scarecrow, princess.”
Well. The captain wasn’t wrong. That was more or less exactly how Mingi felt.
“I ran from the castle wearing nothing but wedding clothes and jewelry,” Mingi replied, bowing theatrically. “There wasn’t time to pack a bag. My apologies, Captain.”
That earned a laugh from both Hongjoong and Yunho.
“That’s terrible,” the captain grimaced—but his expression was more amused than displeased. He clearly liked the joke.
Hongjoong took a step toward the neighboring stall, where mannequins displayed clothes of far better quality than the rags Mingi had been wearing.
The captain began sorting through the garments until he stopped at something dark. It was a corset made of thick, expensive black leather, with elegant lacing and even fine embroidery. The prince’s eyes widened in shock. What was this sly Hongjoong planning to do?
“I think this will suit you,” he said, holding it up for the boy, then tossing a handful of coins to the vendor.
Along with the corset, he was handed several shirts—exceptionally well-made, leagues better than anything Mingi was wearing now.
Mingi hesitated, feeling his face start to burn. They were just… buying him clothes. Good ones. Expensive ones. As if he were already part of the crew, not a temporary guest. Maybe the jewelry he’d given the captain really had been valuable enough that Hongjoong could afford to spoil even him like this…
“Why?” the prince whispered—but the captain heard him anyway.
“You can’t work, so you’ll decorate my ship with your good looks,” Hongjoong replied, giving him another assessing look, his eyes traveling over the other boy’s figure. “You’ve got a narrow waist and broad shoulders. It’ll fit you. And the shirts—so you don’t keep wearing Yunho’s things.”
Beside them, Yunho stifled a laugh, watching Mingi turn the color of a ripe tomato. He really was that embarrassed. The prince stood there, unable even to lift his eyes. The awkwardness spread through his body as if he’d been thrown into hot water. Back in the kingdom, he’d often been treated as little more than decoration too—a foolish younger prince, no match for his brothers—but there it had sounded less insulting, more like an obligation. Here, from Hongjoong’s mouth, it sounded like… a challenge. Or a very strange, rough pirate compliment.
“I—I’m not a doll for you to dress up,” Mingi finally managed, trying to reclaim at least a shred of dignity, even though his fingers trembled traitorously. Maybe even from fear—fear of daring to talk back to the captain.
Hongjoong merely raised an eyebrow.
“Until you can hold a blade, you are exactly what I said,” he replied coolly. “You should be grateful, princess, that I’m doing this at all. Otherwise, you’d still be walking around in sacks.”
With that, he didn’t bother with ceremony and simply shoved the bundle into Yunho’s arms, who barely managed to catch the new load.
“Take it to his cabin,” Hongjoong ordered. “And tell Seonghwa, if you see him, that it’s time to load up. We’re leaving this town in two hours.”
Yunho straightened and nodded seriously, though the corners of his mouth still twitched with the urge to tease Mingi—now red as a perfectly ripe apple.
“Will do, cap.”
After some time, the sun had already begun to sink lower and lower. While the others were loading everything they’d bought onto the ship, Mingi remained standing at the very edge of the pier. Everything around him was painted in impossibly beautiful shades—the surface of the sea was drenched in crimson and gold, forming such a stunning picture that the prince realized he had never seen a horizon this beautiful in his life.
The port itself was starting to quiet down, preparing for its nocturnal rhythm, while the ship, on the contrary, was coming alive—blocks creaked, boots thudded against the deck, and voices carried over the wood.
And yet, despite the view, his mood was far from light. The prince wrapped his arms around himself, trying to still the trembling inside. His shoulder ached faintly, but he barely paid it any attention now.
Footsteps sounded behind him—steady, confident. Mingi didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The captain stopped beside him, not looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the same thing as the prince’s. The sun.
“You’re still here,” Hongjoong stated. His voice sounded calmer than it had in the town, without that sharp edge that always made Mingi feel self-conscious. “I thought you’d already run off to inspect your new shirts.”
Mingi stayed silent for a few seconds, lowering his gaze to the water and watching the reflections ripple across its surface.
“So I really am just decoration now?” he finally asked. “Something that can be bought, dressed up, and put in a corner to look nice?”
Hongjoong slowly turned his head, studying Mingi. In the half-light, his eyes looked dark as the night sky—impossible to read.
“Did that really get to you?” The captain narrowed his eyes slightly. “Was it that insulting, hearing it from me?”
“Yes,” Mingi answered honestly, surprising himself with his own courage. He finally lifted his gaze and met the captain’s eyes. “All my life in the castle, I was taught to be an accessory—to the throne, to my father, to my future spouse. I didn’t run away just to become an expensive ornament on a pirate ship. I’d rather scrub the floors of your cabin than be a toy for someone’s enjoyment.”
“You’re not a toy for enjoyment.”
“Really?” Mingi pressed. “Then… why do it like that? I’m perfectly fine walking around in… sacks.”
The captain was silent longer than usual. He took a step closer, closing the distance enough that Mingi could feel the warmth radiating from him.
“You only see what you want to see,” Hongjoong said quietly, almost in a whisper.
For a moment, his gaze lingered on Mingi’s injured shoulder, then returned to his face.
“What…” the prince began, afraid to continue.
“In this world, princess, no one buys expensive clothes for someone who isn’t worth it. I don’t throw gold to the wind.”
“I’m not—”
“You haven’t even had time to settle in on the ship yet, and you’re already allowing yourself too much toward the captain. Still, I’ll admit it, princess—you’re handsome when you’re angry.”
The captain abruptly stepped back, putting a bit more distance between them.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Now go aboard,” The captain turned away, but before stepping up, he tossed over his shoulder, “Tonight, we’re drinking. Put on what I bought you and come join us. We’ll be in the main galley.” Then he added, “If you want, of course. You won’t be a decoration—just a handsome young man, not dressed in a sack.”
At first, Mingi thought he didn’t want to go. But after a moment, he simply nodded, as if confirming it to himself.
“Alright, Captain.”
It seemed to the prince that he caught a glimpse of Hongjoong’s shoulders twitching slightly, as if with a smile. Was he really pleased at the thought of seeing his guest in the clothes he’d bought for him?
What a strange captain.
And what did he even want, anyway?
***
Mingi stood in the middle of his cramped cabin, where the only source of light was an old oil lamp, gently swaying in rhythm with the waves. Directly in front of him was a mirror Yunho had dragged in earlier—cracked, its glass clouded with age, but still alive, still capable of showing a reflection.
The prince slowly lifted his eyes and held his breath for a moment.
This was not the Mingi he was used to seeing. He was different. That one had been flawless, with perfectly styled hair, adorned with jewelry, dressed in clothes that cost as much as a common laborer earned in a month. This Mingi… had grown up.
The new shirt was made of a thin, almost weightless fabric, the color of darkened blood. The wide sleeves fell softly to his wrists, and the deep neckline revealed his collarbones and the edge of a fresh bandage on his shoulder, which—on San’s recommendation—still supported the injured area. But the most important element was one thing alone—the corset.
It wrapped around Mingi’s torso like a second skin. The intricate lacing in the front was tightened just enough to emphasize his surprisingly slim waist, while visually making his shoulders appear even broader. Mingi carefully ran his fingers over its surface, feeling complete. Collected. And, to his own surprise, gorgeous.
There was a strange energy in this outfit. He had never worn corsets before; they belonged to the women of his castle—his mother, his cousins, his aunts—while men always appeared only in tailored suits. And now Mingi could see this piece of clothing on himself. Something so unusual. So different.
He looked exactly the way he had always imagined the heroes of pirate stories: dangerous, a little chaotic and unconventional, but free. The dark trousers fit him perfectly, tucked into high boots he had cleaned the moment he returned to his cabin.
“A real pirate,” he whispered to himself, and the corners of his lips lifted on their own.
He adjusted a lock of hair that had fallen loose across his forehead. In this corset, Mingi could no longer slouch or lower his head; instead, he was forced to keep his back straight and his chin high. It was even… pleasant. To see himself like this—beautiful, grand.
Mingi felt heat rise to his cheeks again. If he walked out in front of the crew dressed like this, everyone would understand that the captain hadn’t been wrong. He really did look like a decoration—but not a fragile flower, more like a precious, finely honed weapon in elegant sheaths.
Strange comparisons came to the prince’s mind. But that was exactly how he saw himself.
And how was he supposed to wear the old rags he’d been given before, now that this magnificent outfit would be hanging in the small, improvised wardrobe of his cabin?
He took one last look in the mirror, straightening the collar of his shirt. His shoulder still ached, but the pain was so faint he barely noticed it. It didn’t matter, especially when the person staring back at him from the mirror looked absolutely incredible. Better than all those balls his parents had always forced him to attend.
There was only one thing—now it was hard for him to take a full breath. It had become downright impossible. He would have to endure this discomfort for a while, and preferably eat less than usual.
Mingi stepped out of the cabin, trying to walk confidently, even though every breath came with effort. The corset held his body so tightly that the prince couldn’t help thinking he might not survive the evening at all. It was that uncomfortable to move.
But he endured it. All the while thinking—how do women live like this? And honestly, he’d gone easy on himself, not tightening it to the maximum. Women, on the other hand, tied the worst knots, denying themselves food for the entire evening just so they wouldn’t suffocate.
When he reached the heavy doors of the galley, from behind which laughter, the clatter of kitchenware, and the spicy aroma of Wooyoung’s dinner were already drifting out, he hesitated for a moment. But it was too late to retreat now. He was here, and he intended to do exactly what he’d promised.
To be decoration.
The kind that would leave everyone in shock.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The noise in the room didn’t merely die down—it cut off instantly. Every head turned in his direction, and all dark eyes settled on the new figure standing there.
Only the core pirates were present. Those closest to the captain. Yunho, Jongho, Wooyoung—of course—San with Yeosang, the strange boy who always walked around with a siren, and Seonghwa, seated to the captain’s right.
And half of them were staring with their mouths open.
In the light of the oil lamps, Mingi looked unreal. His new shirt stood out sharply against the wooden walls, and the black leather of the corset perfectly emphasized a silhouette that had once been hidden beneath shapeless rags. Tall—nearly the tallest on the ship—slender, he looked less like a pirate and more like some dark prince from sea legends. Another sea monster, like San.
The prince felt his ears begin to burn, but he held himself together, refusing to flee the galley too soon. Without looking around, he walked straight to the main table, not saying a word to anyone. He simply moved in silence toward the empty seat the pirates had graciously left for him.
Hongjoong sat at the head of the table, as a captain should. On his right, Seonghwa was intently studying something, and the seat to his left—the one meant for someone important—was empty. So, without overthinking it, Mingi carefully lowered himself into that very place, supporting his stomach and the corset as he sat.
The silence stretched on far too long.
“Wow,” Wooyoung was the first to speak, breaking the tension. He set another dish on the table, eyeing the prince. “So this is what you were whispering about? That the captain bought him… that kind of outfit?”
“It’s just clothes,” Mingi said quietly, as if trying not to draw attention. Finding a sitting position where the corset didn’t dig into his ribs was difficult.
Hongjoong, who had finally managed to tear his gaze away from such a striking guest, first studied his drink, lost in his own thoughts. Something unreadable. Then he turned his dark eyes toward the boy beside him, watching whatever was visible to him alone.
And it was… a little uncomfortable.
Mingi suddenly felt out of place.
“More like he’s dressed like a red lantern now,” one of the pirates remarked.
What did that even mean? A red lantern? Was that some kind of title? Mingi had never heard it before.
“What?”
“Red lanterns. Ever heard of them?”
“No,” Mingi shook his head.
A snicker rippled through the room.
“That’s what they call prostitutes,” Wooyoung said again.
Mingi felt the blood drain from his face, only to rush back again, leaving hot spots of shame on his cheeks. Why was it immediately ‘prostitute’? Just normal clothes! What ridiculous things were these pirates making up?!
It hurt him. Not long ago, he had been the younger prince—and now he was some boy for the night in the eyes of others.
“Prostitute?” he repeated softly, his voice trembling.
And somehow, that only made the others laugh more. They began whispering, tossing around words he couldn’t understand, discussing something as if he were there, yet as if behind his back.
“Well, what did you expect, princess?” someone from the back of the table called out. It was Yunho, of course. “With a waist like that, you’d earn more in one night in the red-light district than we do from one looted ship.”
“We should protect him—who knows how the next pirates will see him,” added Jongho, and both of them laughed.
As if Mingi were some kind of commodity.
Mingi clenched his fingers on the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He just wanted to tear the laces, shed this leather, and run into the darkness of his cabin. The feeling he had in front of the mirror, when he looked at himself, had completely vanished. He was a joke again, a defenseless boy dressed up for the amusement of the crowd. He had obeyed for nothing…
“Enough,” a voice suddenly sounded.
It was the captain. He set his glass down on the table, too loudly for it to go unnoticed. The man turned his head toward the pirates on the side, causing the most chaos, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t look angry, but he was clearly not in the mood.
“Playing around, huh?” he asked quietly. “Does anyone here want to personally test how fast this prostitute can handle a weapon—the same one I saw in his hands a couple of days ago?”
So the captain had seen Mingi’s fighting style. And he probably liked it, since he spoke with that… almost complimentary tone. Naturally, it helped calm the others. The pirates immediately turned their attention more to their food than to staring at the prince. Hongjoong shifted his gaze to Mingi, who sat beside him, tense like a musical string, barely daring to breathe. Suddenly, he reached out, and to everyone’s surprise—even Mingi’s—he gently adjusted the collar of the prince’s new shirt, his fingertips brushing the side of Mingi’s neck.
“This is ridiculous,” the captain added after everything. “I know you like to tease, but”—he addressed the crew again—“come up with something new. Just a week ago, you called Seonghwa a prostitute because of his corset.”
“And got punished,” the quartermaster also chimed in. Surprisingly, he—and it seemed Yeosang—were the only ones, besides the captain, who didn’t dare to laugh.
The pirates were cruel, so such remarks were expected. Still, Mingi felt disappointed despite understanding that. However, he was grateful to the captain for stepping in.
After his words, no one dared continue the teasing.
Mingi felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. The captain had just defended him. Not just as a guest, but as… someone he was responsible for, probably. It was strange. And pleasant. In the castle, he hadn’t had anything like that; he remembered that if he received unpleasant comments, neither his parents nor brothers would say anything to the offender—they just ignored it. No one seemed to care about Mingi’s feelings. But here, the captain of cruel pirates, who himself hadn’t long ago teased others, had stepped in for him.
“Eat, Mingi,” the captain softened his tone, and he nodded toward the plate that Wooyoung silently and quickly placed in front of the prince.
Despite the rough jokes, Wooyoung knew his job. He was looking at a lot of different food, all seemingly tasty. There were the usual snacks, looking very salty, perfectly suited for pirate rum, and the standard ship food. Luckily, without that red porridge.
The prince carefully reached for the dish right next to him—it was something filled with various seafood. When he lifted his chopsticks to his mouth, he experienced an incredible, rich flavor. Still very spicy, but now he noticed hints of something sweet and aromatic, unlike anything he had been served in the kingdom.
All dishes in the castle had to be refined—minimal salt, minimal sugar, minimal pepper. Here—an explosion of flavors.
“Well? Princess? Do you like eating something besides porridge?” Wooyoung leaned on the table across from him, watching the prince’s reaction. Mingi noticeably changed his tone.
“This… is very delicious,” he replied sincerely, grabbing another piece.
He didn’t even notice how he had started eating alongside the others. The atmosphere at the table quickly returned to the usual pirate merriment. Along with the food came the drinks, which the pirates shared among themselves. It was rum, which Mingi still refused, not wanting to lose his head. But he was curious to listen to the pirates’ stories, and the previous embarrassment—especially about the “red lanterns”—gradually faded from his mind. Deep down, he understood that these were just ordinary jokes, not worth paying attention to, because for them… it was normal. Something stable. Especially if they even called the quartermaster that…
The only thing that interfered was the corset. It prevented him from eating to his full appetite. But despite that, Mingi smiled, wiping the corner of his mouth. He looked at the surrounding faces, realizing that this… was far more comfortable than all the balls in the castle. Even though he was still an ornament for the captain’s eyes, it all felt trivial. No one demanded perfection from him, a straight posture, or adherence to etiquette. He did and behaved as he wanted, occasionally catching pirates’ teasing glances but no longer paying attention to them.
Hongjoong had been sitting the whole time quietly, with a pleasant smile, watching his pirates. He didn’t take much part in others’ conversations, but he genuinely enjoyed seeing those around him happy.
And by the end of the evening, Mingi noticed that… they had been adding rum to his water, because his brain had stopped thinking clearly, and he suddenly started laughing much more. Even at the silly jokes or at the pirate song everyone had sung at the end. It was about everything… women and men, kings and queens, mermaids… and almost everything was of a decent character.
But the prince laughed. Genuinely, clutching his stomach where the corset pressed.
Eventually, everyone began heading to their rooms, leaving the kitchen noise behind. Mingi did the same—he went to his small room thinking only about how badly he wanted to take off the corset. No, he was practically dreaming of it. He needed to get out of that outfit, even if the leather was incredibly beautiful.
The moment he opened the door and lit a small lamp on the table, he felt a little better. His head still spun slightly from the unfamiliar alcohol, but the cool sea breeze made the situation more bearable.
Then he noticed the door hadn’t closed. And there he was in the doorway.
The captain. Hongjoong. He stood there, watching him, eyes scanning his body from head to toe. His gaze was calm, but in the depths of his pupils danced reflections of something unusual. Dangerous.
“Captain?” Mingi tried to make his voice sound serious, but it came out too soft. “Did something happen?”
Hongjoong silently stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, cutting off the ship’s noise. The cabin instantly felt too small for the two of them.
“I noticed you fiddling with the laces all evening,” Hongjoong said quietly, approaching closer. “You won’t be able to take it off yourself. Especially with your injured shoulder. And staying in it for too long can be dangerous.”
Mingi wanted to protest, to say he could manage, but the pain was still shooting into the fingers of one hand, and the other hand felt alien after the rum. He felt warmth rush to his cheeks again, and this time it wasn’t just the alcohol.
“Turn to me,” Hongjoong commanded.
And it was said softly, almost intimately. Mingi obediently turned his whole body toward him, feeling his heart begin to pound wildly against his ribs, pressed tight by the leather.
Hongjoong stepped almost right up to him. His fingers touched the front of the corset, and Mingi flinched involuntarily at the contact. The captain deftly began loosening the intricate knots of the lacing, and Mingi felt every breath, heard the soft rustle of hands working through a part of his clothing. It was so… pleasant. With every passing second, it became easier for him to breathe, but at the same time, more difficult because of Hongjoong’s proximity.
“You held up well today,” Hongjoong said, his voice sounding right next to him. “It’s your first time in a corset, isn’t it?” Mingi nodded, prompting a small chuckle.
The prince swallowed. The lacing gradually loosened, and with every movement of Hongjoong’s hands, Mingi’s lungs gained more space.
“Not sure if I want to do this again,” he admitted.
“I understand,” Hongjoong said, running his hands over the part of the corset that no longer had ties. “It’s very difficult.”
The last knot gave way easily. The captain carefully parted the edges of the corset, and Mingi finally took a deep, full breath. The leather that had been compressing his torso all evening finally released its hold.
Yet Hongjoong did not hurry to step back. His hands lingered on Mingi’s sides a second longer than necessary for help. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, the prince felt the heat of his palms. It was so wrong and yet so thrilling that the cabin seemed to run out of air even without the corset.
“Well, that’s it,” Hongjoong finally said, stepping back a pace. “Now you can breathe, princess.”
Mingi lifted his head to him, holding the corset in his hands so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. His eyes shone from the rum and the inexplicable excitement, and in the dim light, the captain’s face seemed so intrigued, as if he were waiting for the first move from him, observing his reaction. The prince, however, could not bring himself to close the distance, even if his drunken mind wanted to.
All that remained was to stand silently in the middle of the room, exchanging glances with the captain. The air between them seemed to vanish so quickly that both noticed. The prince saw Hongjoong tilt his head slightly, studying his reaction carefully, calculating the next moves and how to act.
The drunken haze in his mind whispered: “Come on, step closer, take his hand, touch him, see what he does with you,” but the remnants of royal upbringing and fear of the unknown kept Mingi’s feet rooted to the floor. He only gripped the leather of the removed corset tighter with his fingers, feeling the laces dig into his palms.
Hongjoong seemed to understand this inner struggle perfectly. His lips twitched again in that same smile—whether from disappointment or from realizing the prince wasn’t as bold as he seemed. Eventually, he simply looked away.
“Go to sleep, Mingi,” he said, surprisingly using his name instead of the usual “princess.” “Tomorrow we’ll need all our strength. The sea doesn’t forgive a clouded mind.”
The captain turned and headed toward the door.
“Goodnight, princess,” the familiar word returned. “Try not to get tangled in your thoughts.”
The door quietly closed behind him, leaving Mingi in complete silence, broken only by the creak of the ship’s wooden hull. The boy slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, still holding the corset in his hands. He noticed a strange scent. And it was Hongjoong’s scent—tobacco, alcohol, sea freshness, and, surprisingly, sandalwood—blending and lingering in the air.
Eventually, he allowed himself to fall back. Leaning against the pillows, he stared into the dark ceiling, thinking about everything. His body buzzed from fatigue and alcohol, but his thoughts scattered like startled birds. What was this? A game? The captain knew how to play? And why did his body respond like this? Maybe it was the alcohol. And how could he not notice that he had been drinking something stronger than water…
Mingi closed his eyes, feeling himself slowly drawn into sleep by the steady rocking of the ship. The last thing he thought before finally sinking into darkness was that the coming days at sea would change him even more.
***
The days aboard the ship passed quickly, blending into one monotonous picture that Mingi gradually stopped noticing. The sea remained calm the entire time—they encountered no storms, no pirates, and slowly drew closer to their destination, the one they had planned to reach from the very beginning. Thanks to San’s efforts and Mingi’s own endurance, the wound on his shoulder healed faster than anyone could have expected. The pain, and later even the dull ache, simply disappeared, leaving behind a small scar. Unpleasant, but survivable—especially since every pirate here bore a scar of their own. It was a true adornment, more valuable than any jewels. It meant that if the prince, too, carried a mark on his body, then he was strong and brave like the others.
He barely crossed paths with the captain. Hongjoong was constantly occupied with his duties—sometimes at the helm, sometimes shut away in his cabin with maps, documents, and routes, occasionally summoning someone inside. He didn’t even come to lunch or dinner, never ate with the others, and only Seonghwa, his loyal right hand, brought food to the captain directly at his workplace. Even in those few brief seconds when their eyes met, all Hongjoong did was give an almost imperceptible nod, leaving Mingi unsettled. As if the two of them had never been alone together in that room.
So as not to wander about with nothing to do, the prince began visiting the galley more often.
Mingi would simply roll up the sleeves of his new shirt and silently get to work. It turned out that peeling vegetables or sorting grains was a kind of rest. During those hours in the kitchen, he listened to Wooyoung’s stories about distant islands where giant trees grew and about sea monsters he claimed to have seen with his own eyes. Then came a stream of completely absurd tales that Wooyoung invented on the spot.
Gradually, Mingi learned to be useful. He now knew where the spices were kept, how to slice cured meat properly so it wouldn’t be too tough and could be eaten comfortably, and how to calm Wooyoung down when he started panicking over missing ingredients. Strangely enough, that happened quite often—then the young pirate would pace around the galley, snapping at everyone on the ship, convinced that someone else had taken whatever he needed.
The crew grew used to him. He was no longer seen as an outsider wrapped in silks. Now he wasn’t just “the princess,” but “the captain’s princess,” because word quickly spread that the beautiful corset was a gift from the captain himself, bought with his own money. Supposedly, that ruthless man never gave gifts without reason—especially not to spoiled princesses.
Mingi typically caught himself unconsciously searching for the captain’s bridge or the door to his cabin. This sudden pull frightened him more than anything else. He had grown up in a world of strict rules, where every step was dictated by etiquette, and feelings toward another man were considered unthinkable, a sinful deviation from the norm. In his castle, marriages were arranged for the sake of alliances between crowns, not at the heart’s command—and certainly not between a prince and a pirate captain. And why was he even thinking about this? He wasn’t a hero from some book; life didn’t work that way, no matter how much one wished it did. What’s more, all of this was wrong, even if it felt necessary.
Yet the more he thought about it, the worse he felt.
So now, standing on the deck, he tried to distract himself from those thoughts. To find a new diversion—watching dolphins leap from the water or birds hunting overhead. There should have been another island not far away, but they had decided not to stop there, passing it by instead.
Suddenly, a speck appeared on the horizon. Mingi squinted, peering into the distance, and with every second the shape grew clearer. The ship didn’t look like a pirate vessel—too perfect, with white sails and a proud prow that could mean only one thing.
This ship belonged to a kingdom.
And when it drew closer, Mingi could make out the coat of arms emblazoned on its flag.
The prince’s heart skipped a beat.
It was a ship of the Ayrinde Royal Fleet. A vessel belonging to his father’s dominion. His past—the one he had been so desperately running from—had caught up with him in the middle of the endless sea, reminding him that he was still the property of the kingdom, and that they had no intention of letting him go so easily.
Mingi froze, feeling cold sweat break out on his forehead, his fingers gripping the wooden railing so tightly that the wood let out a pitiful creak.
“This… not this…” His voice trembled, barely audible.
A voice rang out from the crow’s nest, and everyone on deck went still. Mingi hadn’t even noticed Yunho appear beside him. The pirate, usually so carefree, now looked focused. He narrowed his eyes, shielding them from the sun with his palm, and carefully studied the snow-white sails on the horizon.
“Am I understanding this correctly—that it’s…?” Yunho asked, his expression darkening. “That’s bad. They’re holding a direct course straight toward us, not even trying to maneuver. These bastards aren’t just admiring the view. They’re going to open negotiations with us, and trust me, princess, their cannons aren’t loaded with confetti and pastries.”
Mingi wanted to say something, but panic tightened around his throat. At that moment, Hongjoong strode sharply onto the deck. His gaze immediately found the prince, and there was not a trace of the warmth or interest Mingi had hoped to see in the captain’s eyes—only cold seriousness. He understood the stakes as well: if the captain of the other ship found Mingi here, Hongjoong’s entire crew would be slaughtered, sunk, left at the bottom of the sea.
“Why is he still here?!” Hongjoong snapped at Yunho as he approached. Then he turned sharply to Mingi. “If they see the younger prince aboard a pirate ship, they won’t just take you. They’ll burn this ship to the ground, accusing us of kidnapping a monarch.”
The captain nodded to Yunho, and without wasting a second, Yunho grabbed Mingi by the elbow, practically dragging him toward the hatch leading to the hold. They rushed past the room where Wooyoung was already nervously checking his knives, then descended to the lowest level, where the smell of dampness and salt became unbearable. Mingi grimaced. He didn’t like this at all.
Yunho stopped in the far corner, where enormous wooden barrels stood. The air here was so sharp and specific that Mingi’s nose began to ache.
“Here.” Yunho pointed at one of the half-empty barrels filled with ice and dried fish. “Get inside.”
“What?!” Mingi recoiled, staring at the slick tails and scales. “Are you serious? What do you mean—there are fish in there!”
“Choose,” Yunho shoved him. “Either you sit here for an hour, or all of us get executed, and you get dragged back home. They’re going to search everything. Every room, every bed, every corner. They won’t come here—the smell will rot their brains. Damn royal rats. Get in and keep quiet if you want to spend even one more day on this ship.”
Suppressing a wave of nausea and nearly in tears from sheer self-pity, Mingi carefully climbed into the cold, sticky mass. It was unbearable—but he had no choice except to obey.
Darkness inside the barrel was absolute, and the smell… it was everywhere. There was no escaping it. Mingi tried to breathe every other second, pressed into the slick, cold mass of dried fish, because he didn’t even know how to die properly in a situation like this.
“If they find me…” The thought kept looping in his head. He imagined the lid being thrown open, and instead of a pirate’s familiar face, he would see the cold steel helmets of the royal guard. Their looks would be satisfied—they would have found the prince and earned the right to slaughter the pirates. How disgusting. His father would never forgive this. They wouldn’t simply take him back to the castle—they would lock him in the highest tower, and the entire crew of this ship would meet their deaths.
A dull thud echoed above. Mingi strained to listen to every sound, but could barely make anything out. Only the heavy stomp of boots. He curled in on himself, trying not to make a single noise. Every minute felt like an hour. He heard muffled voices, shouted orders from officers, and Hongjoong’s calm—almost brazen—voice somewhere far above on deck. They were arguing; that much he knew for sure. The prince squeezed his eyes shut, praying to every god he knew that the smell of fish really would prove stronger than the guards’ desire to search every last corner.
Suddenly, something struck the side of the barrel sharply.
Mingi froze. His heart seemed to stop.
The lid creaked as it shifted aside.
This was his last moment before—
“Holy mermaid!” a familiar voice exclaimed. “What are you doing in here?”
Mingi slowly lifted his head, spitting out a fish scale that had stuck to his lips, and met the horrified stare of Wooyoung. Oh… so this wasn’t the end?
“Who put you in here?”
“I…” He tried to stand, though his legs ached from the awkward position. “I was hiding. That ship… It’s gone, right?”
“Yeah, the captain chased them off not too long ago. We’re changing course. But—” Wooyoung grimaced. “Mingi, you smell like you died last week. That’s horrifying. Don’t come near me for the next few days.” Despite his words, he still helped him climb out. “Let me guess—Yunho stuffed you in there?”
The prince nodded. Sure, maybe he didn’t have to hide in fish—but when had a pirate ever passed up the chance to mess with someone?
“I need to wash myself.”
“Lie in a bath for at least three hours,” Wooyoung said, wincing. “I’ll steal you some scented stuff from San. He’s got tons of it, even if he hates sharing.”
Mingi didn’t argue. He could feel the sticky liquid soaking through the fabric of his trousers, and the smell of dried fish seemed to have seeped into every part of his body. Walking was unpleasant, and he didn’t want anyone to notice him—but rumors and information spread fast, so his condition was probably already known to every rat on the ship. And of course, he felt ashamed. Deeply ashamed that he had had to go through this at all.
Luckily, the deck was empty: the crew was busy with the sails, and the captain had likely retreated to his quarters again, so the prince managed to slip into the right room unnoticed. Yunho had shown him earlier where the pirates could wash off their fatigue—but only with San’s approval. The siren was in charge of everything related to “cleanliness.”
Ten minutes later, the small room with the low ceiling felt wholly different. Jongho muttered under his breath but kept filling the large wooden tub with buckets of water. San himself stood nearby, holding several small dark-glass bottles in his hands. He looked gloomy, clearly regretful of his supplies, but the sight of miserable Mingi, covered in fish scales, was enough to soften him.
“Here,” San said, handing him a jar filled with some thick green oil. “Jasmine and sea lily extract. If this doesn’t kill the smell of fish, then nothing will.”
After that, San stepped closer to the tub and dipped his hand into what had been seawater moments before. Mingi watched as the siren’s pupils widened briefly, and a faint bluish glow spread from his fingers. A moment later, light steam began to rise from the water, and the scent of salt was replaced with the soft aroma of a clean spring—as if mountain water had appeared in the middle of the sea, where only salt should exist.
“Done,” San said shortly, straightening up. “Just don’t drown in there, please. I won’t save you then. Jongho, let’s go—give him some privacy.”
When the door closed behind them, Mingi was finally alone. With trembling hands, he began to strip off his clothes—clothes that were now fit for nothing but being thrown overboard. The fabric was beyond saving; even the siren’s best oils wouldn’t be able to remove that smell. When the last piece hit the floor, and Mingi stood naked in the middle of the room, he felt a bit lighter. Carefully, he stepped over the wooden edge and lowered himself into the tub.
Warm—almost hot—water enveloped his body, easing his muscles. After the sudden encounter with that ship, all he needed was to lie like this. When the time came, he reached for the oils, gently rubbing it into his skin. Surprisingly, they really worked—the smell that had tormented him so badly was now barely noticeable. After that, he moved on to his hair, picking out scales and bits of fish still tangled in the dark strands.
Half an hour later, he was almost clean. All that remained was to stay in the water until it cooled completely. But there wasn’t much time left—the surrounding water was already cooling, clearly hinting that it was time to get out, or he would soon start resembling a fish himself. Or a merman. Or a siren.
Silence and warmth helped him calm down. The fear of being recognized gradually retreated, dissolving somewhere far away into nothingness. He was safe. The captain had driven the soldiers away, the crew had protected him, and Yunho… Yunho, though cruelly, had saved him from the tower in Ayrinde. He had saved everyone.
Mingi submerged himself completely, and when he returned “to the world,” he heard a sound.
Someone had entered the room.
He didn’t need to think about who those footsteps belonged to.
The captain.
The prince brushed his wet hair back to get a better look at the man nearby. In truth, he had expected to see Yunho or San, holding a change of clothes, but…
Hongjoong stood by the entrance, lazily leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He looked unusually domestic and relaxed: a white shirt with the collar undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and loose trousers held by a wide leather belt. His hair was slightly tousled, and his gaze was tired and drowsy, as if he had just torn himself away from his maps and was about to turn in for the night. Mingi instantly pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to hide in the not-quite-transparent, oil-scented water, even though it barely covered his shoulders. The room suddenly felt far too hot, even though the water had seemed a little cool just moments ago.
“I heard you decided to become part of our provisions,” Hongjoong’s voice sounded low, with a faint rasp. “Yunho says you fit in nicely with the barrel of fish.”
“That was… forced, Captain. And not funny at all,” Mingi muttered uncertainly.
After that, Hongjoong slowly pushed himself off the doorframe and took a step closer to the bath. He stopped a few meters away, looking the prince over from head to toe, and through the steam, his gaze seemed too heavy, too focused on Mingi’s bare collarbones and wet skin.
“You’re shaking,” he noted. “Did the water cool down, or are you still afraid they’ll turn around and come back for you?”
“I’m not afraid,” Mingi lied, though his voice betrayed him with a slight tremor. “I was told they already left.”
“They did,” Hongjoong confirmed, leaning forward slightly.
“What… what did you tell them?”
Thereafter, the captain smiled and found a small stool, sitting down right beside the large bathtub.
“They’re inspecting every pirate ship, still convinced you were kidnapped by pirates. They searched the rooms, looked everywhere, but didn’t notice the door that led to your hiding place.”
He reached out his hand, and Mingi froze for a moment, expecting a touch, but the captain only picked up one of San’s jars from the floor, turning it in his hands.
“Why are you here, Captain?” Mingi whispered, unable to look away.
Hongjoong silently put the jar back in its place and straightened up again. He slowly let his gaze travel over the prince’s wet figure, lingering for a moment on his eyes.
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t turn into a mermaid from all that water,” he tossed out, and that same enigmatic smile appeared at the corner of his lips. “And to warn you. Get more clothes from Yunho, because after the fish, that old man won’t let you wear those again.”
Mingi bit his lip, feeling his resentment toward Yunho mix with embarrassment. He could have just stayed among the barrels instead of being stuffed into one of it. Why did fate—and pirates—love mocking him so much…
Surprisingly, the captain didn’t hurry to leave. He suddenly leaned closer. Hongjoong reached out again—this time not toward the jars, but toward the prince himself. His fingers, dry and warm, touched a wet strand of hair on Mingi’s forehead and carefully brushed it back, revealing his face.
Mingi’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard it felt like the water in the tub rippled. Why was this happening to him…
The captain’s fingertips didn’t stop. They slowly slid lower, to his shoulder, where a thin, pale mark of a fresh arrow scar stood out. The touch was almost weightless, but to Mingi it felt like being seared with hot metal.
“Healed quickly,” Hongjoong noted quietly, examining the mark. “Thanks to San.”
He lifted his gaze and met Mingi’s confused, damp eyes.
“You know,” he added in a half-whisper, “it’s not surprising your father sent nearly a fleet to look for you. I wouldn’t want to lose such an ornament of my collection either.”
Mingi felt his breath completely catch at those words. Was it a compliment or another provocation? His mind refused to analyze it, only registering how pleasant it was to hear that hoarse voice so close.
“Alright,” the captain said after a moment, standing up. “Finish washing and wait for Yunho.”
Casting one last heavy glance at the boy’s bare shoulders, the captain left the room. The door clicked softly, leaving Mingi in stunned silence.
The prince slid a little deeper into the water, submerging his face up to his nose. What was that? Why was he so drawn to someone who shouldn’t attract him at all? Dangerous feelings that led only to chaos. His life in the castle with a wife would have been calm and predictable, days repeating until she bore their first child, then the second, then the third. With pirates, everything was different. More dangerous. Still, Hongjoong’s touches spread far more warmth inside him than the water San had heated.
“I’ve ended up in one of those books,” he thought to himself, feeling a smile appear on his face without his noticing.
He would definitely remember this journey with the pirates forever.
***
A few more days passed, and the rhythm of life on this ship became something natural for Mingi, almost familiar. Every day, he did similar things, spending time with the pirates and occasionally playing strange games with them, where those who lost were supposed to be thrown overboard. And although Mingi was always the unlucky one who ended up with nothing, even in a stupid pirate game, no one ever threw him into the water.
Throughout the journey, the sea was merciful, the sun was surprisingly gentle, and those cursed memories of the barrel of fish began to fade into the background. That evening, sleep wouldn’t come at all. Mingi tossed and turned in bed, listening to the creaking of the ship’s hull, and eventually realized that his stomach was demanding at least some kind of food. Putting on Yunho’s shirt, and over it a cloak—which was a little tight at the shoulders but perfect for the night weather—and his usual trousers, he slipped out of the cabin.
The long-desired room with food greeted him with the warm light of a lantern and muffled voices.
The pirates were there. Wooyoung lazily chewing on something, Jongho slicing an apple, and Yeosang resting his head on his hand and watching the play of shadows on the wall. A bottle of rum stood in front of them, and each had their cup filled with liquid. They looked tired and peaceful, like people who had finally finished a long shift at sea and now had time to rest.
“Oh, look who we have here,” Wooyoung smiled sleepily, nodding toward an empty spot next to Yeosang. “Sit down, princess.”
“I just wanted something to eat,” Mingi replied awkwardly, sitting down with them.
It was nice that he wasn’t treated like an ordinary guest or worker, unlike others. He was allowed to sit here, in the company of pirates, even without the captain nearby, or Yunho, who had almost become a “teacher” to the prince on this ship. Jongho silently slid half an apple and a piece of bread with something spread on it toward him.
“Want some rum?” he asked. “It helps you fall asleep if you don’t overdo it.”
At first, Mingi thought about refusing. But after thinking it over, he nodded.
“Probably a little,” Mingi agreed.
And then, when a filled cup was passed to him, he took a small sip, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his body. There was something magical about that night. Everyone was so tired, ordinary, and not worried about anything, just resting in a small company.
“Did you see the captain today?” Wooyoung suddenly asked, squinting against the light. “He skipped the shared dinner again. Seonghwa says he hasn’t left his hell for about six hours already.”
Hell. So that was what they called his cabin.
Mingi shook his head, feeling his heart skip a familiar beat at the mention of Hongjoong.
“No, I didn’t. He… really works a lot.”
“He’s not just working,” Yeosang, who had been silent until now, finally looked up at Mingi. His eyes seemed incredibly deep in the dim light. “It’s something else. He could stay shut in like that before, but something… something’s wrong. Something happened. Or he got himself into serious trouble and is dealing with it now. Because Seonghwa isn’t saying anything either.”
“He locked himself in there as soon as the sun went down,” Wooyoung added, swirling the rum in his mug. “Even Seonghwa looks gloomy.”
“Or even angry,” Jongho added. “And when Seonghwa gets angry because of the captain, expect trouble.”
Mingi shifted his gaze to the door, as if hoping the captain might appear there right now. But unfortunately, luck rarely worked in his favor.
“And what happened… when the guards came aboard?” he asked quietly, turning his cup in his hands. “I only heard stomping and some muffled voices. Did they really believe I wasn’t here?”
At first, the pirates thought about their answer, but then Jongho raised his hand, recalling the moments.
“They acted like the ship already belonged to their crown,” he said seriously. “At first, they did whatever they wanted—walked the deck, looked into the crew’s cabins, even rummaged through our chests, hoping to find you among the junk. Or, I don’t know, maybe they were just pretending to search so they’d have something to put in their report.”
“But the most interesting part started later,” Wooyoung picked up, leaning forward. “When they finally reached the captain’s cabin. Two of their senior officers, judging by their uniforms, went inside and stayed there for quite a while.” The others nodded in agreement. “We were standing outside, and honestly, I already thought a slaughter was about to start. We couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but something was off. The cap doesn’t act like that.”
“They came out of there… different,” Yeosang added, staring thoughtfully into space. “Like…”
“More like satisfied,” Wooyoung interrupted him.
“Satisfied?” Mingi repeated. It unsettled him a little. “What does that mean? Did he promise them something? Or give something away?”
Wooyoung only shrugged, sloshing the remaining rum in his cup. The others exchanged the same looks, not knowing what to say either.
“Who knows. Our captain is a master at negotiating even with the devil himself, if the price is right,” the boy paused briefly. “But since then, he hasn’t been himself. Locked himself in, lets no one in. Like he’s calculating something… or waiting.”
Silence hung in the room, the only sound the crackling of the lamp. Mingi looked carefully at his cup, where a little rum remained. Now it didn’t make him drunk the way it had before. Something was wrong. Not only with the drink, but with life itself.
“But it’s not just that…” Yeosang traced the rim of his cup with his hand. “Hongjoong is so particular. He doesn’t tolerate unnecessary noise, doesn’t like strangers on board, and never spends his time on things he doesn’t care about.”
Mingi felt his fingers tighten unconsciously.
“Yeosang is right. For him, there are usually only two categories of people: his crew and his enemies,” Wooyoung continued for the other pirate, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And passengers… they’re cargo to him. Useful or in the way. But you… There’s something different about you.”
“He doesn’t look after anyone like that. Though maybe it’s because of your status as a prince…” Jongho drawled thoughtfully.
That made Mingi think. Were the pirates right? Or was it all just an illusion that sounded so convincing coming from their mouths?
“The cap has his eye on you, princess. And it’s not just curiosity. He looks at you like you’re the most valuable treasure he’s ever found.”
Mingi stayed silent, feeling everything inside him churn. The memory of the captain’s hot fingers on his scar, of that heavy gaze in the bath—all of it now took on a new, far more intriguing meaning. He wasn’t just a fugitive to Hongjoong. He was something that made the cold captain lose control. And, surprisingly, it felt good to realize that he mattered to someone in that way. That he was considered important.
In the castle, his importance had always been measured only by his closeness to the throne. He was part of the line of succession, a political argument, an expensive piece on his father’s chessboard, but never simply a person whose feelings mattered. Even his potential marriage existed only because his father wanted it that way and believed that was all his son was fit for.
And then suddenly… someone was looking at him differently. Someone saw him… as something valuable. A treasure.
The captain, this captain.
He could drive him crazy, make him think things that seemed like they should be locked away. Only now, to Mingi’s own surprise, he didn’t want to run from it. On the contrary, he felt a strange thrill.
“Thanks for the rum,” Mingi said quietly, setting the empty cup on the table.
He stood from his seat, wanting a short walk. Just to step out onto the deck, breathe the night air, and wait for the rum to fully settle in his system before heading back to his room.
As soon as the door closed behind him, the cool night air of the deck wrapped around his shoulders. Incredibly pleasant, incredibly desirable. He took a deep breath, feeling the wind gently brush his cheek, slowly lifting strands of his hair. This was exactly how it felt—desired, dreamt-of freedom.
He walked slowly along the railing, listening to the ship cutting through the waves. Above him, the moon stood confidently, full, like a silver coin, lighting the way along with a scattering of stars. It was so beautiful; even in the castle, he had never seen the sky so bright. He stopped by the railing, letting the salty spray touch his face, and inhaled deeply again, and again, and again.
But then, that calm was broken by a faint sound—the creak of boots on the deck, approaching from the side where the captain’s cabin should be.
Mingi didn’t turn immediately, but his body reacted instantly—goosebumps ran over his skin, and his breath caught for a moment. It was so strange that he could tell who was approaching without even looking. He had learned this rhythm of steps. He knew only one person could walk with such confidence, measured, with that inherent weight.
Hongjoong stopped beside him, just a step away, and leaned his elbows on the railing as well. At first, he was silent, saying nothing, breaking the quiet only with a heavy exhale as he looked at the sky’s reflection rippling in the water. He looked tired—his hair more tousled than usual, and his shirt collar unbuttoned one more notch. He looked like he was a little cold.
“Can’t sleep, princess?” The captain’s quiet voice broke the silence.
Mingi finally turned his head. Why had he never noticed that the captain was so handsome?
“Just… wanted some fresh air,” Mingi replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “Finally left your hell?”
“Oh, hell,” the captain smiled. “They came up with a strange name for my cabin. But… maybe there’s some truth in it.”
He finally tore his eyes away from the waves and looked at Mingi. And again, it wasn’t just a glance. The captain looked as if he were seeing, as others had described, a true treasure—a sack filled to the brim with gold. Yet even so, the prince noticed that the captain flinched slightly at a gust of wind. Hongjoong really had acted as if he had forgotten the whole world while sitting over his papers. Even forgetting that the night sea does not forgive a light shirt.
Mingi didn’t hesitate for long. He decided to act exactly as he had been taught in the castle, when they explained how to make a good impression on women. Though the captain was not a woman, he deserved a little care. Carefully, the boy removed the dark cloak he had been given earlier and stepped closer. Hongjoong didn’t even have time to ask anything before he felt warmth on his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Hongjoong tensed, but didn’t remove the cloak. His hands, resting on the railing, froze for a moment.
“I don’t want you to get cold, captain,” Mingi replied simply, keeping his palms on his shoulders just a second longer than politeness required. “You’ll get sick…”
Hongjoong let out a soft hum. He looked… happy.
“You know,” he began quietly, “usually people on this ship wait for my orders. No one offers me a cloak. Usually. You’re different.”
“Maybe they’re just too afraid of you?” Mingi guessed.
“My crew won’t be afraid of me,” he said, turning his head.
“Then they’re not sure whether you need help. You’re strong, should be able to manage on your own. But that doesn’t mean you can always do it.”
And again, a sound from Hongjoong—something like satisfaction.
“And you’re not afraid to say that to me?”
Mingi only shook his head slightly, not answering, letting them enjoy the silence. He liked how the captain looked. He was…smaller. Much smaller than Mingi himself, and with a lighter build. Because of that, the prince felt the urge to protect him, hold him close, hug him, or shower him with compliments. It was such a strange feeling, because he knew he should want this with a proper, young woman—his fiancée. Instead, he wanted to be closer to the captain. Perhaps, if Hongjoong had appeared at that wedding day in a dress instead of the princess…
Someone else’s mystery, appearance, or personality—it was so alluring to him.
“I can almost feel your thoughts,” Hongjoong murmured, slipping the cloak over his shoulders.
Mingi shivered. Were his feelings really that obvious, or was it just the captain’s intuition, honed over years of observing people?
“I’m just… curious about a lot of things,” he began quietly. “You all are far from ordinary pirates. You don’t just seek gold, do you?”
“You don’t know what my crew wants.”
“And what do you want?”
Hongjoong was surprised by the question.
“I want my people to be safe. That’s my priority.”
“You care about them,” the prince said, looking away. “How did you come to become a pirate?”
After that, Hongjoong fell silent, and Mingi wondered if perhaps he had crossed a line. He had asked what perhaps shouldn’t be known. The captain wrapped himself tighter in the cloak, as if afraid. It was so strange…
“My father was a royal cartographer,” he finally said, his voice sounding as if he were recounting an old legend. “I knew every star in the sky before I learned to hold a knife. I was supposed to become like him, to work for monarchs, to do what they wanted of me.”
Mingi nodded, remembering the cartographers in his castle. Usually, they were old men, working from morning until night.
“Training, sucking up to kings, lying. I hated it,” he spat bitterly. “And I still hate all of that elite,” he looked directly at Mingi.
It became a little uncomfortable.
“What happened next?”
“We ran out of money,” he paused briefly. “My father refused to do the dirty work, and they started cutting our money. We barely had any coins for food… Mother died first, then my father, and I was left—barely grown.”
Mingi nodded, not knowing what to say at that moment.
“I decided that staying in the castle and continuing to work for those who had destroyed my family was too awful. And unfair. So I ran away, and ended up in the hands of pirates,” he traced the wooden railing with his finger. “They taught me many things. And through perseverance, I became a captain.”
“I'm… sorry. We monarchs… not all like that.”
“Nope, you're all the same. You think that with money you can buy absolutely everything.”
The atmosphere grew heavier.
“Maybe… It’s true. People will do anything for money.”
“No, not all,” Hongjoong shook his head. “I’m willing to do anything for my people. Not money.”
For some reason, this unsettled Mingi. What did the captain mean? Was there another meaning in those words? The prince tensed, feeling the captain’s words hanging between them like a heavy fog.
“Are you talking about your crew?” Mingi asked cautiously, trying to catch the expression on Hongjoong’s face. Then he thought of something else. “What did you tell the guards, Hongjoong? Why did they leave satisfied if I’m still here?”
There was a spark in the captain’s eyes—unusual, dancing—whenever he looked at Mingi.
“They left satisfied because I gave them what they value more than the truth—hope for an easy victory,” Hongjoong said through clenched teeth, stepping closer to Mingi. “I told them I had seen you on another ship heading to the Eastern Isles. And I promised that if we succeed, we would take you to hand over to them ourselves.”
A hand, surprisingly delicate, reached for the ties on Mingi’s shirt. With his fingers, Hongjoong played with the laces, gradually loosening it, freeing his neck from their pressure. Mingi felt a chill spread through him.
“So… you lied to them? They could kill you and your crew for this lie.”
“They could kill me just because you’re standing here right now.”
Exactly. The captain was right—they could all be killed simply for existing. Hongjoong continued to run his slender fingers over the laces on Mingi’s chest, and the gesture felt intimate, almost soothing.
“Freedom is the most precious commodity in this world, princess,” the captain whispered, finally letting go of the ties. The shirt parted slightly, letting the night air touch Mingi’s hot skin. “Sometimes we should pay a great price for freedom. Sometimes—with lies. Sometimes—with things that are far more valuable.”
Mingi looked at him from top to bottom, captivated by this confession. He saw before him a person who, it seemed, had done something forbidden—all for him. And it felt so good. The captain had lied to the guards, protected him, and not given him away, even though he could have—they surely promised plenty of reward. The royal guard could offer anything, from gold to serious rights over entire parts of the sea, but Hongjoong had refused.
He left him here.
“You’re taking too big a risk,” Mingi’s voice trembled. “And all… for me?”
Hongjoong hesitated for a moment. His fingers lingered at the edge of Mingi’s shirt, and a shadow passed over his face that could have been taken for doubt.
“Perhaps you are worth far more than you imagine yourself to be,” he said, hoarsely.
Then the captain slowly traced his thumb along Mingi’s collarbone, right where the skin was most sensitive to the cold of a finger. His gaze grew heavy, filled with something the prince wanted to call passion.
“I need you,” Hongjoong said quietly, and it seemed he moved a little closer.
“So you really won’t give me back to my father?” Mingi dared to cover the captain’s hand with his own, pressing his fingers to his chest. “Promise me. I can’t go back there.”
And, fortunately, the captain did not pull away. There was almost no air left between them.
“I promise you’ll end up exactly where you’re meant to be,” he replied quickly, looking straight into the prince’s eyes. “Your arrival on this ship isn’t an accident, Mingi. It’s a deal with fate itself. And I’m not the sort to break a contract when it becomes too advantageous.”
He lingered for a moment on Mingi’s lips, making him lean forward slightly, but at the last moment, Hongjoong simply adjusted the collar of his shirt.
“It’s late and cold.”
Mingi smiled because, despite the chill, he felt his cheeks burning.
“Then sleep well, captain.”
“And you, princess.”
***
Days passed quickly, especially aboard the ship.
That morning began as usual—Mingi woke up, stretched in bed, looked at the ceiling, then at the hammock hanging idly nearby. Despite the waves, it was still more comfortable for him to sleep in the bed they had made for him when he was injured. Sunlight filtered through the window, the only light in the room. After five minutes, he got up and found the clothes he needed, changing into it. The day would be hard, as always—cleaning, cooking, and other urgent tasks that Wooyoung or Yunho would invent, like scratching Jongho’s back because he was the only one who bathed and got lonely. That had already happened. Though, fortunately, the captain had stopped him at the last moment…
But first, he had to get himself ready.
A small, slightly battered mirror stood on the table before him, but it was enough for the prince. His face was covered in thick shaving foam, and in his hand, he held a dangerous blade—a gift he had also received from the pirates.
Slowly, with particular care, he ran the sharp metal over his skin, cutting the stubble that had grown more noticeable over the past days. As a former prince, he didn’t want to look unsightly. Maybe he had become a temporary pirate, but he wasn’t ready to grow a beard. Each movement required focus, but Mingi’s thoughts were far from the blade. They still wandered back to that night, lingering on the warmth of the captain’s fingers and his promises. On that peculiar conversation that replayed in his mind over and over.
Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door, and without waiting for a reply, Yunho peeked in.
“Oh no, the princess is shaving! I heard that if you eat a piece of a royal beard, you get rich.”
“Or you'll just choke,” Mingi muttered, not even looking at him.
“Unpleasant. But anyway, Seonghwa said you need more things. I brought some old stuff.”
“Soon my wardrobe will be bigger than it was in the castle.”
Mingi nodded at the bed, and Yunho placed the clothes right there, where the blanket hadn’t been folded yet.
“Need help? Who knows, you might end up without a nose, and your nose is too good to be cut.”
Mingi paused, hand near his throat, looking at Yunho through the mirror. He seemed to understand the prince’s gaze, so he didn’t continue, just smiled kindly, reducing it to a silly joke.
“Yunho…” the boy began, carefully running the blade over his cheek again. “May I ask you something? Just… personal.”
“For you—anything,” Yunho said, settling into the hammock, swinging as if it were his own private spot now.
Mingi hesitated for a moment, rinsing the foam from the blade in a bowl of water.
“Has Hongjoong… the captain… ever had serious relationships? Maybe someone is waiting for him on the shore… or here?”
Yunho froze for a moment, his face taking on a strange expression, as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Hongjoong and serious relationships?” he asked, as if the very thought were absurd. “Listen, Mingi, our captain is a complicated person. He’s married to this ship, to his maps, and to adventures. I’ve known him for many years, and in all that time, I’ve never seen him let anyone into his heart beyond one night.”
Mingi froze again, staring at his reflection.
“Only one night?” he whispered.
“Exactly,” Yunho shrugged. “In the ports, there are always people who want to warm themselves by the pirate captain and get paid well for it. So yes, the captain can drink and spend time with someone attractive, but by morning, he’s always alone. He doesn’t know how to get attached. Except… maybe to his crew and his ship.”
Mingi felt something tighten unpleasantly inside him. The captain’s words from yesterday—that he was needed—suddenly didn’t seem so romantic anymore.
“So for him, people are just… a way to have fun? Or get something out of it?” Mingi asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Yunho scratched the back of his neck.
“He just keeps his distance in love, you know. He’s not like San and Yeosang, hugging at every step and loudly showing who belongs to whom,” he grimaced at the thought of those two. “Work is his wife, you know?”
Mingi slowly pressed the towel to his face, absorbing the remaining moisture and hiding the confusion under the fabric. Yunho’s words hit their mark, shattering the illusion the prince had built in his mind after the nighttime conversation on the deck.
“He doesn’t believe in love?”
“I think he believes in what he can control,” Yunho finally got up from his seat. “Most pirates don’t plan on having a family or anything. That’s life.”
He took a few steps toward the exit but didn’t reach for the handle, hoping the prince would add a few more words. But, surprisingly, Mingi remained silent.
“Hey, don’t take it too hard,” he added softly. “Maybe it’s for the best. Pirate life is short and bright. But…”
“But what?” Mingi asked hopefully.
“He looks at you differently. Not like at those he pays for a night. And not like at the crew.”
Differently. At him.
Again, a flower of hope bloomed somewhere inside his soul.
“Get dressed, princess. Today we have more work than usual, the captain’s in a bad mood.”
Once Yunho’s footsteps faded behind the closed door, silence fell over the cabin again. Mingi picked up a shirt—simple, coarse, nothing like the ones he wore in the palace. Who was he in this story? Just another adventure that would end as soon as the ship docked at the next port?
Time was slipping away. With every hour, he moved closer to the land he longed for, to the realization of his dream—but that would mean one thing: leaving the captain. Leaving the crew he’d grown accustomed to over such a short journey. And staying behind? That was hardly an option. That was the problem…
The day passed for Mingi like a strange, hazy fog. Physical labor, which he had never been used to in the palace, became a kind of salvation—it helped, if only for a moment, to quiet the torrent of thoughts swirling in his mind after the conversation with Yunho. At first, he helped Wooyoung in the kitchen. Peeling vegetables under the cook’s teasing jokes was not so simple, especially when his hands trembled—not from fatigue, but from the memory of the way Hongjoong had untied the laces on his shirt. Wooyoung rambled loudly about past adventures, but Mingi only nodded mechanically, gazing out the window where the endless sea welcomed their ship, letting it glide across its calm waters.
Later, Jongho assigned him to scrub the deck. The work was, as always, hard: his back stiffened, his knees ached against the hardwood, but Mingi scrubbed the planks with such determination that it felt like he was trying to wash away his own doubts. Or maybe he was simply angry at himself, using the work to release his frustration. Pirates passed by—some clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly, some joked—but now it didn’t feel insulting. On the contrary, it felt familiar, almost comforting.
Yet the hardest part came whenever the captain appeared on the deck. Rarely, perhaps once every few hours, he would pass by searching for his “right hand,” and…
Hongjoong was furious. He barked orders sharply, his voice cutting through the air, especially when he called for Seonghwa, and the other didn’t respond. Several times throughout the day, their eyes met. Each time Mingi lifted his head from the water bucket and saw the captain on the bridge, a traitorous heat immediately flooded his cheeks and ears. He would quickly lower his gaze, staring at the water beneath his feet, yet he could feel Hongjoong’s gaze still upon him.
Yunho’s words about how the captain looked at him differently came to mind. Maybe it was true. Perhaps he really did look at him differently…
Every time the prince blushed under that heavy gaze, his insides flipped. He wanted to approach, to ask what would happen next, but he was too afraid—so he gripped the brush tighter and scrubbed the deck even harder.
The sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, painting the sails in a bloody-golden hue.
And then, some realization hit Mingi. Sitting in the middle of the deck, with a now-dirty bucket beside him, staring at the horizon, a flurry of thoughts surged through his mind.
He liked a man.
He was almost in love with this man.
He had become like the hero from the books he had loved to read—only now he had stepped into the shoes of the princess, fleeing and seeking safety in the strong, pirate hands of her savior.
Prince and pirate. In his dreams, it had been different. Yet here he was, sitting in the middle of a ship crossing the vast sea, while all his thoughts were occupied by the same man. He looked at his hands—wet, reddened by cold water and the rough brush he had just used to scrub the deck. Once, these hands had held only fine quills and delicate crystal goblets; now they smelled of sea salt and cheap soap.
It was wrong. It was dangerous. And yet, it gave him sensations he had never known in the gilded cage of his father’s castle. There, everything had been predictable; here, every look from Hongjoong was like a storm—powerful, merciless.
When the sun finally slipped below the line of the water, leaving behind only deep-blue twilight, Mingi realized he could no longer stay on deck. The noise of the loud dinner in the galley, where Wooyoung was once again arguing about something with Jongho, felt unbearable to him now. He needed silence—just to somehow calm the fire inside his soul.
He slipped past, ignoring the appetizing smells of food, and shut himself in his cabin. Kicking off his boots, Mingi simply collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. After that, time began to stretch unbearably slowly. Then someone knocked in passing and mentioned that the bath was free, freshly filled with warm water, thanks to one generous siren.
Mingi quickly washed the weight of the day from himself; he didn’t want to linger longer than necessary. While the others were busy with their own matters or waiting their turn, he returned to the place where he spent his nights. He had barely had time to wait for his hair to dry even a little when there was another knock at the door. He hoped to see one particular man—but instead, Yeosang appeared, someone he rarely crossed paths with.
“If you’re not asleep,” he began, “the captain would like to see you.”
The captain. Him.
Mingi’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at himself in the mirror: his hair, still slightly damp, fell in soft waves, and the semi-transparent white shirt he’d pulled from the pile of clothes Yunho had brought turned out to be far too thin—definitely not meant for a night walk. It clung softly to his shoulders and chest, hiding almost nothing, especially in the dim lamplight. But there was no time to change. If the captain wanted to see him now, then he had to go—right now.
He made his way to the doors of the captain’s “hell.” His footsteps echoed in his ears; he counted each sound, as if that might calm the storm that kept surging inside him again and again. Gathering his courage, he knocked softly and, hearing a brief “Come in,” pushed the heavy door open.
The cabin was half-dark, lit only by the flicker of a few candles on the massive desk. Hongjoong sat there, his chin resting on clasped fingers, lazily studying a map. On the edge of the desk lay Mingi’s cloak, neatly folded. When the prince entered, Hongjoong lifted his gaze; his dark eyes swept over Mingi’s figure instantly—from bare feet to black hair—and lingered just a little too long on his chest, where the thin fabric of the shirt treacherously revealed the contours of his body.
The captain froze for a moment.
Did he dislike it… or was it the opposite?
“Come in and close the door,” Hongjoong’s voice was unusually hoarse.
Mingi quickly obeyed the order, feeling that there was no other way. He liked that this man commanded him.
“You called for me?” he asked quietly.
Hongjoong slowly rose to his feet. He was shorter, yet far more dominant. He took the cloak from the table and took a step toward the prince.
“I wanted to return this,” he said, stopping so close that Mingi had to force himself to look him in the eyes instead of at those tempting lips. “I don’t like being in debt. Even over such small things.”
The captain didn’t hurry to let go of the fabric, though he did hold the cloak out to Mingi. He watched, mesmerized, the way the boy’s chest rose beneath the thin layers of the shirt with his quickened breathing.
“You worked all day today,” Hongjoong noted almost in a whisper, and his gaze grew heavy again, dark. “Didn’t even complain. I was surprised.”
“I wanted to be useful,” Mingi replied, feeling his knees begin to tremble. “I… I don’t want to be just a guest who does nothing.”
At that, Hongjoong let out a huff, such a familiar sound. Realizing that no one was going to take anything, he set the cloak down on the edge of the nearby chair, never taking his eyes off Mingi. His hand slowly lifted, and once again, like the night before, he touched the lacing at the prince’s neck. This time, his movements were slower. He was teasing him.
“You were never just cargo, princess,” the captain whispered, taking another step forward until they were almost pressed together. “And this shirt… it doesn’t suit you at all. It reveals far too much. Maybe it would be better to change it?”
Mingi held his breath.
“Yunho gave this to me. I only use it for sleeping.”
“You sleep like this…” His gaze traced over Mingi’s body once again. “On a pirate ship, you need to be more careful, princess. You know, we spend months at sea, and sometimes we behave like beasts.”
He wasn’t just touching the lacing—his fingers accidentally slid over the hot skin of Mingi’s collarbones, leaving behind an invisible trail.
“Does it… does it bother you, captain?” Mingi dared to ask. His voice trembled, betraying everything he had tried so hard to hide all day. “If you don’t like it, I can change my clothes.”
Their bodies were almost touching, and Mingi could feel how fast the other’s heart was beating—just as wildly as his own. The captain tilted his head back to look straight into the prince’s eyes; the difference in their height was incredibly noticeable in that moment. The prince held his whole body tense just to keep from placing his palms on the other’s waist.
The captain was practically miniature, and that was so tempting.
“It makes me hard to think,” Hongjoong ground out almost through his teeth.
The hand left his neck and then slowly moved higher, into his hair. Mingi yielded, tilting his head back, feeling fingers tighten in his strands.
And then he couldn’t move. He only stared at the captain’s lips, which were so close. The whole world narrowed to this small cabin, to the scent that filled his lungs to the very edge. He remembered Yunho’s words about “one night,” but right now he didn’t care. If it would be just one night, so be it. The only thing that mattered was that it would be with him.
“Then stop thinking,” Mingi whispered, finally daring to place his hands on the captain’s waist.
That was the final straw for both of them.
Hongjoong let out a low, muffled sound, something like a groan, and sharply pulled Mingi down. When their lips finally met, it was nothing like the gentle kisses from books. It was a storm they had both held back for far too long. It was a struggle—over who would lead this dangerous dance, who would take the dominant role—because neither the “princess” nor the “cruel captain” wanted to give in.
Mingi had kissed before. With princesses, mostly when he was drunk. But none of those kisses had been anything like this.
Hongjoong was wholly different. He kissed with desperate hunger, as if trying to steal the prince’s breath, wanting to lose himself in him, to dissolve into another’s touch. And Mingi responded with all the passion he was capable of, gripping the other’s waist tighter. There would probably be bruises if he kept this up, but neither of them minded.
It was unclear how much time passed before the captain broke the kiss, his hands moving from the back of Mingi’s head to his shoulders, shoving the prince backward. Blinded by the sudden pressure and his own desire, Mingi took a few unsteady steps until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the captain’s bed. With one sharp, commanding motion, Hongjoong forced him down onto the soft blankets.
And both were satisfied with that.
Settling more comfortably, Mingi threw one arm back, bracing himself on his elbow, but the captain didn’t give him a moment to breathe—he was instantly on top, straddling Mingi’s hips with possessive ease. Hongjoong was smaller, but now, sitting above him and looking down at Mingi with almost fiery eyes, he seemed like the embodiment of untamable passion.
He crashed into Mingi’s lips again, but this time the kiss was more serious, wetter, and far more demanding. With his free hand, Hongjoong grabbed Mingi’s wrist—the same one he was leaning on—as if trying to strip him of his last support, to force him to surrender completely to the victor’s mercy. Mingi let out a muffled sound—something between a protest and a plea. He felt every line of the captain’s body, his hot breath, and the firm control he held over the situation.
Hongjoong pulled away from his lips only for a moment to catch his breath. His gaze slid over Mingi’s face again, lingering on lips reddened from kisses, then dropped lower—to where the thin shirt no longer protected the prince from the captain’s hot hands.
The captain’s fingers, accustomed to rough work and combat, gripped the edges of the shirt. With one sharp motion, he pulled it open, baring Mingi’s broad shoulders and chest.
“I like your scent,” he murmured, leaning in and brushing his nose along Mingi’s neck. “So fresh, so… new.”
Mingi couldn’t say anything. His fingers clutched desperately at the captain’s clothes, trying to pull him even closer, to erase any remaining barriers, if there were any left at all. Hongjoong began to trail kisses slowly downward—from jaw to collarbone, leaving marks behind. They would probably be clearly visible tomorrow, but that was exactly what the prince liked. He wanted everyone to know what this captain had done to him tonight.
When the captain stopped, Mingi let out a dissatisfied sound and only then noticed the other rising from his lap, watching him.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?” Mingi asked, confused.
“Your clothes. Or do you not want this anymore?”
But Mingi shook his head. Him—not wanting it? What nonsense. So, not waiting for the captain to grow irritated, he carefully began to undress. First, the shirt, which hadn’t hidden much anyway, and then he placed his palms on the waistband of his trousers. Now it was scarier. Was he really ready to give himself completely to the captain?
On the other hand, he didn’t want anyone else but him.
When Hongjoong noticed the hesitation, he placed his fingers on the waistband, slowly sliding it downward.
“If you’re not sure, I can stop.”
“Don’t stop, please.”
Mingi was truly begging. His eyes nearly filled with tears from the intensity of his desire. He wanted the captain to do anything he wished with him—kiss him senseless, mark him, tear him apart. It didn’t matter what he had in mind. As long as he would just touch him…
And finally, thereafter, Hongjoong completely stripped Mingi of the last piece of clothing, leaving him standing before the other man utterly naked and exposed. Dark eyes roamed over him, studying every curve, every freckle, every small scar that would have been invisible under different lighting. The prince saw the captain bite his lip when his gaze fell on one particular part of his body.
And in that moment, the captain’s palm closed around Mingi’s cock. He couldn’t hold back, letting out a sound caught somewhere between pain and pleasure.
“Hongjoong,” he hissed, and a moment later the other man settled back on his laps.
“Like it? I haven’t even started yet.”
“Please…”
Mingi stopped forming words clearly. With every stroke of the captain’s hand along his length, his thoughts vanished instantly, leaving nothing inside but emptiness. The only thing that could exist in his body was lust—an endless desire for the other man to possess him. He liked the way Hongjoong kept him right on the edge, squeezing the base of his cock and denying him release. Mingi hissed, arched, hoping for at least some relief, but Hongjoong didn’t give it to him, continuing to torment him, savoring every moan.
“What is it, princess? Do you want something?”
“I want…”
“Go on. Say it.”
“You… I want you.”
“Good boy.” He stopped, pressing a kiss to Mingi’s temple.
It became a little easier when Hongjoong moved away from his laps again, but this time for a good reason—to rid himself of his clothes. Mingi blushed when he noticed the dark, damp spot at the other man’s groin, which made it clear: he was wanted too. Badly. Just as badly as Mingi wanted him.
Luckily, the captain wasn’t wearing much, and he discarded it quickly, enjoying the way the prince’s gaze lingered on his body.
And Mingi couldn’t look away. As expected, Hongjoong wasn’t large—despite his status as captain, his body remained slender and lean, the kind that could easily be hidden beneath the weight of another man.
“Like what you see?”
“Incredible,” the prince said, reaching out and grabbing him by the forearm, pulling him closer.
Only now did Mingi have a different idea. Instead of settling the captain on his lap, he shifted positions, holding Hongjoong’s body beneath him. He pressed him down into the bed, and the drawn-out moan that slipped from Hongjoong made Mingi’s head spin. He didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do—his experience was far too limited—but recalling certain kinds of books, he tried to act the way those characters did. So first, he traced kisses along Hongjoong’s neck, then lower and lower, until he reached one of his nipples. He caught it between his teeth and heard a sharp hissing sound from above. Hongjoong liked it. He arched, his body pressing closer, his gaze darkening.
“Where did you learn that…”
Mingi didn’t answer, too busy with what he was doing. His free hand began to play with the other nipple, pushing the captain closer and closer to the edge. Hongjoong had tormented him earlier, so now it was Mingi’s turn to tease his captain a little. Especially since Hongjoong clearly enjoyed it, judging by the sounds he was making. With his other hand, Mingi moved lower, his palm settling on Hongjoong’s waist, pulling him closer so there would be no space left between them. That was how it needed to be. That was what they both wanted—to become one.
“Mingi…” Hongjoong drew out, “Enough, you—”
“What?”
“Have you ever been with men before?”
He stopped. He might have been able to admit it to himself, but saying out loud that his experience was built on foolish books was much harder. Mingi lifted his head, and their gazes met. The captain looked beautiful. His face was flushed, his eyes unfocused, and his light hair stuck out in all directions, long since slipping free from the ribbon that had held it back.
“No. Never,” he finally admitted.
“You… damn,” Hongjoong muttered, then carefully lifted a hand, pointing toward a small table beside the bed. “There’s oil there. Take it.”
“And what am I supposed to do with it?”
Hongjoong rolled his eyes.
“At least take it first.”
Not wanting to irritate him further, Mingi shifted to sit more comfortably and reached out toward the indicated spot. There really was a small bottle of oil there, a pleasant pink color. He took it in his hands, examining it carefully, trying to understand what it was.
“I use it when I’m with someone. It’s safe and… made specifically for this.”
“For what?”
Hongjoong rolled his eyes again.
“For sex, Mingi.”
Now Mingi flushed even deeper as he fully understood what the captain wanted. No, of course he wasn’t against it—he had just expected their games to end at simple touches, but what the captain desired…
It went far beyond that.
And Mingi didn’t mind at all.
He opened the bottle, breathing in the scent—something between roses and strawberries. For a moment, he wondered where the captain could have gotten it, but what surprised him even more was with whom he had used it. A flash of jealousy ran through his body; now his mind wanted to leave marks on every inch of Hongjoong’s skin so that no one else would ever dare touch him the way Mingi did.
“Don’t tell me I’ll have to explain what to do with it too…” the man beneath him muttered impatiently.
Well, Mingi was confused—but only a little. It probably really would have been better to explain how not to accidentally hurt him, but his pride was afraid to show just how inexperienced he was. So now it was time to act.
Moving slowly, Mingi positioned himself between Hongjoong’s spread legs. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the captain’s lower body, taking in the way he looked… His cock, already hard from everything that had happened before, wasn’t large. Mingi carefully wrapped his hand around it, feeling the weight of the other man, who immediately responded with a moan. Such an honest sound sent shivers through his entire body, and he stroked along the length again and again, earning pleased reactions. The captain fit perfectly in his hand, and that made him seem so cute, so desirable.
“Enough teasing,” Hongjoong hissed. “Start doing something already.”
Catching the hint, Mingi started to feel… scared. He reached for the small bottle of oil again, opening it and pouring a small amount onto his fingers. He carefully rubbed it together, warming the liquid so Hongjoong would be comfortable. Still… Mingi didn’t really know how this worked. He could only hope it wouldn’t hurt the captain—in books, women always enjoyed it when a man used his fingers. But Hongjoong wasn’t a woman. Hongjoong was his captain, a man with a different body altogether.
Taking a deep breath, Mingi shifted closer, pressing himself against the captain. His face ended up right in front of Hongjoong’s, and he leaned in carefully, brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss. He pressed the tip of one finger against the tight ring of muscle, not entering yet, just touching—teasing, or maybe warning. Then, without hearing any order to stop, his first and only finger found the entrance, slowly pushing inside. It met slight resistance; the captain tightened his grip on Mingi’s shoulders and exhaled straight into the kiss.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, no,” his body twisted, reacting to every movement of the finger inside, every thrust. “Don’t you dare stop. Keep going.”
Mingi’s face was burning. He was so afraid that the captain actually felt uncomfortable that he was giving himself not because he wanted to, but simply to give the prince something. His mind still couldn’t believe that Hongjoong wanted him so badly that he allowed him to touch the most intimate places, and so Mingi kept going. After a few minutes, the oil was back in his hands, adding more lubrication to do the next thing—use another finger.
The second one slid in without resistance. Hongjoong was gripping his hair now, his movements growing chaotic, and Mingi found himself wondering—it was just fingers. Could it really feel this good? At the same time, he was kissing along the captain’s neck, pressing his teeth to the most sensitive spots, and Hongjoong seemed to be completely losing his head.
“More,” he muttered. “I need more.”
It was the third finger. Hongjoong took it very well. Mingi himself was already on the edge—it felt like he could come just from the sight of the captain like this. Completely flushed, beads of sweat on his face, eyes unable to focus even on what was right in front of him. He kept throwing his head back, arching his back, making sounds that made Mingi want to pounce on his body right here and now, demanding more from it.
Mingi held on. For now, he only kept repeating the movements of his fingers, constantly hitting the spot that books called the “paradise.” He hadn’t even known men had it too, because after every precise touch, Hongjoong grew louder. At this pace, someone would definitely hear them—but neither of them cared in the slightest.
“Tell me what you want,” Mingi whispered against his lips. “Tell me.”
“You,” the captain snapped. “Right now. Stop treating me like I’m a doll.”
“I’m afraid of hurting you.”
“I’m going to hit you,” Hongjoong said—and kept his promise, playfully smacking his shoulder. Mingi smiled and finally let him go, pulling his fingers out. They were covered in pale pink oil, making the sight even hotter. “It feels so empty without you.”
Oh.
That was the last straw.
What followed felt like a real haze—Mingi quickly spread the lubricant over his length, bringing the tip right to the entrance. Hongjoong looked at him with eyes full of desire, as if begging the prince to enter him and not dare stop until the sun showed its first rays.
No one wanted to hold back.
With one movement, Mingi entered, not completely, only halfway, causing a loud moan.
“You’re bigger than I expected,” Hongjoong whispered. “Move.”
“I'm sorry,” Mingi muttered. “I'm sorry, I…”
But he liked it so much. It was so warm inside, so good; he didn’t know how to stop himself from coming right then and there. He understood the captain would be disappointed if he finished too quickly, so he didn’t rush to obey the order. His first movements were careful, even gentle, as if Hongjoong truly were a porcelain doll—fragile enough to break with just a little too much pressure. Each thrust teased the captain instead, drawing out more breath that Mingi tried to catch with his own lips. One hand settled on Hongjoong’s thigh, gripping it with all his strength, while the other found the captain’s palm, their fingers intertwining.
Mingi was afraid to open his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back if he did, so he just kept kissing him, moving slowly. Hongjoong’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, though Mingi still didn’t dare to push in fully—Hongjoong had already mentioned he was too big. What if it hurts?
“Faster…”
“But…”
“Faster!”
That commanding tone left Mingi no choice—except to obey and take control at the same time. He shifted slightly, bracing himself more firmly against the mattress, and the hands that had been roaming over the captain’s hot skin tightened around Hongjoong’s hips. It became much easier to move now, and he picked up the pace. Hongjoong’s response was instant: the captain threw his head back, a sound tearing from his lips that held more pleasure than Mingi had ever heard. His fingers dug into the sheets, clutching the fabric as if it were his only anchor in that moment. For an instant, he no longer resembled the cruel captain at all. He was giving himself over completely, letting go of his authority just so the prince could make him entirely his.
“Mingi, harder,” the words were difficult to make out, but the boy obeyed, surrendering completely. “You're so deep…”
Realizing Hongjoong was already close, Mingi wrapped his hand around the captain’s length, stroking in time with his own movements. His thumb brushed over the tip, spreading the slick fluid. With every thrust, the prince noticed how Hongjoong’s stomach… shifted slightly. Thanks to the new position, he could go deeper, filling him completely, and now he could see Hongjoong’s eyes roll back. The sight—that mix of vulnerability and overwhelming pleasure—made Mingi catch his breath for a moment. Was he really that big? He hoped the captain wasn’t in pain, yet he kept moving at a relentless pace, savoring just how deeply Hongjoong could take him.
He saw it. He pulled his hand away from the captain’s thigh to trace the bulge that appeared every time Mingi drove himself into the desired body.
From that image alone, Mingi knew he was ready to let go.
He collapsed onto the captain with his whole body, becoming one with him, whispering incoherent phrases into his ear—things they would most likely forget within minutes.
Mingi was close. He would rather not come without the captain’s permission, but Hongjoong was so consumed by his own pleasure that he didn’t mind how his body was being used.
Hongjoong was trembling.
“Captain… I’m close,” Mingi’s low voice sounded.
Instead of words, the room filled with a deep, almost painful moan from Hongjoong, echoing through every cell of Mingi’s body. The captain threw his head back once more, exposing the taut line of his neck, and the prince saw a vein pulsing at his temple. And he felt how their heat merged into a single sensation. Hongjoong was falling apart right there, in the prince’s hands, giving all of himself away. His constant control, his captain’s mask, his dominance—all of it vanished instantly.
Mingi came unexpectedly, even for himself. He had hoped he would at least be able to pull out, preserve a fragment of composure, but instead he stayed inside, filling his lover with a part of himself. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was so difficult when he was being held with such force. Judging by Hongjoong’s hoarse, broken breaths and the way his body shuddered in a final rush, he reached his release at the same time as Mingi.
Both of them—sweaty, messy, and unable to catch their breath—clung to each other. It felt as if they had just fought a full battle, but… in a bed.
“Everything… is good?”
“Fuck,” was all Hongjoong managed, his face pressing into the curve of Mingi’s neck.
“Did it… hurt?”
“No.”
Another short answer. Mingi began to worry that he had done something wrong, but more likely the captain simply didn’t have the strength to speak. The prince’s cock really had robbed him of all possible words…
“I’m sorry, I… did it inside.”
Hongjoong finally met his gaze.
“What?”
“I came inside. I'm sorry. I wanted to…”
But the captain just laughs. He runs his hand over Mingi's face, who looks as confused as if he's just been scolded.
“Everything is fine. I'm not going to have a child, so why are you worried about it?”
He nodded, then pressed his lips to the other's, giving him the most tender kiss possible. Mingi was overwhelmed with emotion, unable to leave Hongjoong's body, staying for a moment longer, continuing their contact. It felt so good to finally feel needed by someone. Even if it was just for one night, even if it never happened again, he had no regrets. The captain had taken his innocence and, most likely, his heart as well.
“Did I do everything right?”
Hongjoong smiled so warmly that his heart beat even faster than when he was moving inside the captain.
“Yes, you were wonderful for me. Especially considering that this is your first-ever experience.”
Finally, Mingi decided to free the captain—he rolled over to the other side of the bed, moving away from him, which earned a dissatisfied groan in response. Did Hongjoong want more? The prince hoped not… Yes, he was young, but he definitely wouldn’t survive a second round. Then he’d have to carry out his dead body, hollowed out, because the captain had drained every last bit of strength from him. Trying not to make any sudden movements, Mingi brushed his fingertips over Hongjoong’s stomach, drawing it from top to bottom.
“What is it?”
“Just thinking… about what happened.”
He nodded.
“We need to rest. Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Of course,” he said, giving him a light kiss on the cheek, which embarrassed the captain, but he responded with a smile.
Hongjoong didn’t add anything; he simply shifted closer, slowly. Despite his status as a fearsome captain, right now, he was seeking warmth, almost like a cat, settling more comfortably with his head resting on Mingi’s chest. The prince felt the moment the captain finally relaxed completely. Carefully, as if afraid to scare this moment away, Mingi wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him even closer. His fingers moved on their own, tracing patterns along Hongjoong’s back.
“You're worried,” muttered the captain sleepily. “I can hear it in your heart.”
“Yes, I'm worried…” he replied, clutching his bare skin. “I never thought my life would be like this.”
“What, like?”
“Salty,” he said with a hint of mystery, “real. Full of feelings. In the castle, I lived in such a way that no one wanted to see me. And now I'm here, next to you…”
Mingi paused for a moment, inhaling the scent of Hongjoong's hair, which now seemed more familiar to him than anything else in this life.
“In the castle, I was just a decoration,” he continued more quietly, almost in a whisper. “The younger son that no one needed. Not my friends, not my family. I felt like I was in a golden cage. But here… It's different. I feel like I'm alive now.”
Hongjoong moved his head slightly, settling himself more comfortably.
“You're a prince, Mingi. You were born for this, weren't you? Your place is there, safe, where walls several feet thick protect you from the world.”
“What do you mean?”
“That the sea is scary,” he said so quietly that even the waves seemed to speak louder. “The sea doesn't forgive mistakes; it doesn't care about your title when it wants to drown you. This life… It's dirty, dangerous, and short. Haven't you thought about going home?”
Mingi smiled bitterly and tightened his grip on the captain's waist, as if afraid that he would force him to leave right then and there.
“Home? Is home a place where you are ignored until you are needed for marriage or political deals?” He ran his hand over bare skin again, seeking reassurance in his gesture. “Yes, it's dangerous here. But it's better here than… seeing my brothers' angry eyes again, or my mother's disappointed face, because I'm worse than anyone else in that castle.
After these words, the captain froze.
“You're a stupid princess,” he muttered. “So naive and stupid…”
“Naive and stupid…” Mingi repeated after him.
“You romanticize life too much,” the captain said, moving from the stranger's body to the free part of the bed, and now they could look each other in the eyes. “You could be killed tomorrow, and you're not afraid at all? You understand that a pirate's life is not dinners with rum, right?” Sometimes it's fatal injuries, it's danger, it's the possibility of being maimed and losing a leg or an arm. These are scary stories filled with unknown magic. Do you really want that kind of life?
“Yes.”
“Stupid. I don't understand how a person who lived a comfortable life in a castle chose… piracy.”
“But you chose.”
Hongjoong got a little angry.
“That's different.”
“It's the same thing.”
The boy leaned closer and put his hand on his captain's cheek.
“Hongjoong,” he whispered. “This is my choice. And if I die tomorrow, I will do so happy and free.”
“Silly princess.”
“Let's go to sleep,” Mingi interrupted him before the captain started repeating himself.
He wasn't concerned with forecasts or warnings, truly. It all seemed so insignificant compared to the endless sea or ocean, compared to the mysteries, magic, mermaids, or artifacts he might discover on future journeys.
“We’re having a serious conversation; we can’t just relax.”
“Your captain’s mind never rests?” Mingi ran his hand further, gently brushing Hongjoong’s strands of hair. “Are you trying to drive me away, or convince yourself that I’m in the way? Don’t. Not now. Please.”
He felt Hongjoong tense, probably preparing another sharp argument, but Mingi just held him tighter, not letting him escape into those thoughts.
“Just be quiet,” the prince whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek to the captain’s. “We both need to rest.”
Hongjoong let out a long, slow exhale. He finally went still, settling more comfortably, allowing himself to sink into the moment. Maybe Mingi was right, but…
The captain had already made his choice. And no one would like it.