"The sea calls me, San. It always will."
"Then I'll follow, even if it takes me to the depths."
Prince San finds solace by the sea, where he encounters Wooyoung, a cursed siren bound to the ocean's depths. But as their bond deepens, the ocean's wra...
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San opened his eyes to find himself lying on a plush bed draped in fine silks, the scent of fresh flowers wafting through the air. The pain in his body was gone, and as he moved his hands, he realized there were no scales—only smooth, human skin.
"San!" a familiar voice called.
San turned to see Seonghwa standing by the doorway, dressed in royal finery. His expression was bright, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Seonghwa?" San asked, his voice hoarse.
Seonghwa smiled warmly, walking over to him. "Get up, sleepyhead. It's a big day."
"A big day?" San repeated, confused.
"Yes," Seonghwa said, his tone teasing. "Hongjoong and I are getting married. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
San's heart sank. He searched Seonghwa's face for any sign of recognition—of the battles they had fought, the magic they had witnessed—but there was nothing. Seonghwa's eyes held no memory of the ocean's trials, no hint of the world they had left behind.
The grand hall of the palace bustled with activity, its high ceilings adorned with flowing white banners and intricate floral arrangements. San stood at the edge of the room, watching as Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchanged smiles at the altar.
Hongjoong's expression was serene, a rare softness gracing his features. Yet, as San studied him, there was no trace of the sharp wit and deep understanding that had once defined the powerful witch. Hongjoong didn't remember any of it—the ocean, the magic, or the sacrifices.
Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong as if the world had aligned perfectly just for this moment. "I vow to honor and cherish you, to share in all your joys and burdens," he said, his voice steady and filled with emotion.
Hongjoong smiled faintly, a slight confusion flickering in his eyes, as if something tugged at the edges of his mind—but it was gone as quickly as it came.
San turned away, stepping out into the garden to escape the crowd.
The garden was quiet, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers. San wandered aimlessly, his thoughts a tangle of joy for Seonghwa and sorrow for the memories that had been lost.
That was when he saw him.
Wooyoung stood under a blossoming tree, his gaze turned upward as petals fluttered around him. He looked at peace, but San's heart ached as he realized there was no recognition in Wooyoung's expression.
San approached cautiously, his footsteps crunching softly against the gravel path.
Wooyoung turned, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Oh, hello," he said.
San smiled, though his chest felt heavy. "Hi. I didn't expect to see anyone here."
Wooyoung shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Neither did I. But this place feels... familiar. Like I've been here before."
San's breath caught. "Do you think so?"
Wooyoung nodded, his smile softening. "Yeah. Weird, right?"
San swallowed hard, steadying his voice. "I'm San," he said, extending his hand.
Wooyoung took it, his touch warm and firm. "Wooyoung," he replied. "Nice to meet you, San."
"Nice to meet you too," San whispered.
As they parted ways, San lingered for a moment, watching Wooyoung walk away. There was a spark of something in his chest—not hope exactly, but the possibility of it.
Later that night, San found himself on the shore. The moon cast a silver glow over the waves, and the water seemed to hum softly, as if the ocean itself were breathing.
Kneeling in the sand, San looked out at the endless expanse of water. "If this was your doing," he said quietly, "thank you. For giving him back to me."
The waves lapped gently at his feet, their rhythm soothing. For a brief moment, San thought he heard a familiar laugh carried on the wind—a laugh that sounded like Wooyoung's.
San stood, brushing the sand from his hands. Somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew this was only the beginning.
As he walked away, the ocean shimmered faintly, its voice a whisper:
