PBGS 12

chapter 12

“Captain?”

“…Ah.”

Only when he heard the brief call did the captain look back down at Rinka. He stepped back, drawing the arm that had held her waist and setting her upright.

The face that had seemed to harden for an instant returned, almost immediately, to its usual expression.

With an easy smile tugging at his lips, the captain’s gaze skimmed lightly from her golden eyes down to the curve of her neck.

So brief, so subtle, that even quick-witted Rinka didn’t notice.

“Sorry.”

“Why did you suddenly…?”

“Ah, nothing really.”

The captain turned his head toward the distant sea and jerked his chin that way. Rinka’s eyes followed naturally.

“I thought I heard something from the sea.”

“A sound?”

“Mm. Happens sometimes. Like an occupational disease for people who’ve spent too long on ships.”

Catching the puzzlement in her eyes, the captain smiled again and stepped back, letting the space between them return. He closed the storeroom door.

It was all perfectly smooth, like water flowing—but that smoothness itself felt oddly unlike him.

Still, Rinka didn’t say anything. She only nodded.

It felt like something she shouldn’t press him about.

“Well, the old fisherman next door—he said sometimes he heard waves crashing even while he slept.”

“Ah, see? People who work the sea must all go through something similar.”

The captain’s expression was already entirely back to calm. He placed Rinka’s palm lightly on his forearm as if escorting a lady of rank, and began walking at a slow pace.

Rinka thought it was exactly the kind of gesture meant for young noblewomen, but she didn’t object.

At the galley door, he let her go, only after spotting the day’s assigned deckhand waiting to assist her.

Waving his hand lightly, almost playfully, he turned away. But his eyes had gone heavy, sinking deep. The blue pupils moved slowly.

Once more, his gaze flicked toward the far sea.

—Consume it. If you want to be free.

“…What nonsense.”

Clack.

With a bitter murmur, the captain shut the door to his quarters.

Only the quiet sound of waves remained.

Rinka hadn’t meant to dismiss what the captain said about hearing sounds from the sea.

She clutched the seashell tightly in her hand. At some point it had been strung with a cord, made into a necklace—the pearl pendant she now gripped firmly.

Am I awake right now?

Or am I asleep?

For some reason it was hard to tell. Her vision blurred and bled apart like watercolors, then came back into sharp focus, over and over.

She could feel the chill touch of seawater, dampness combing through her hair.

Her mind was hazy as fog, and from the abyss of the sea, a low voice was calling to her.

At that moment—

—Rinka.

Something called her name.

—Rinka…

The voice was low and gentle. Like her mother’s voice. Or perhaps it was the sea itself whispering.

All around her, the sound of her name echoed, humming in the water.

—Come here. Step out. If you come into the sea now, you won’t have to live in hiding anymore.

—They don’t know you. That man will harm you.

—But I’m different. I know a way to make you human.

Voices—one or many, she couldn’t tell.

They wouldn’t leave her mind.

Shut up…

Her heart pounded furiously. She knew she shouldn’t believe it, but a strange hope began to swallow her whole.

I can’t.

Being born a mermaid is an irreversible reality. I know the sea can’t give me anything.

More likely, it’s luring me toward some sea monster. That’s the truth—much more likely…

But.

Maybe there’s someone else, like Pearl, who could help me.

When she blinked, an endless dark-blue deep unfolded before her eyes. In its depths, silver scales shimmered faintly.

Silver scales—and sharp, gleaming crimson eyes.

—So the spirits’ voices have carried your name all the way to the abyss.

—Come see me. Trust me. I’ll protect you without asking for any price…

The voice was sweet, yet edged like a blade. A knife stirring her heart in the borderland between dream and reality.

As if soothing her. As if trying to enthrall her.

Clutching the necklace, Rinka curled in on herself, pressing her aching head between her hands.

—I know your pain and your secret.

—Rinka.

The brilliant light of those scales seized her golden eyes.

She trembled, but she couldn’t shake the voice away. The eyes seemed closer, closer, as though they would swallow her at any moment—ever nearer…

—Come to me. Then you can be free. I’ll give you that.

The voice held her like a calm tide. The headache sharpened.

And suddenly, she stood on the deck of a ghost ship.

Beneath her feet, the water moaned low and deep. The wind cut cold, and heavy fog cloaked the ship as though to devour it.

Beyond the fog, something’s shadow loomed.

Without knowing what it was, Rinka stared.

—Rinka.

That same voice called her again. Her chest went cold. Even in a dream, her blood felt like it was freezing.

She blinked once more. The blur lifted, her vision snapped clear.

Before her eyes—a pirate ship.

No… not quite. She stood on the edge of its deck. But the ship wasn’t the one she knew.

It was ruined.

The great mast was splintered and half-collapsed, leaning.

What is this?

Why does it look like this?

A moment ago she had been convinced this was only a dream—but faced with this shocking sight, her thoughts tangled into chaos.

Half the ship was shattered, sinking into the dark blue waves.

Before she could even wonder how she was standing upright on the deck, the crew’s screams split the air.

No.

Wait, just wait.

But her mouth made no sound.

The sea foamed and rose, waves swallowing up sailors’ familiar faces.

No… no. This is just a dream.

—Yes, a dream. But soon to be reality. If you stay on that ship, it will be swarmed with those who rise from the depths to take you.

The low, gentle voice from beneath the sea whispered again, to her trembling heart.

—Don’t you want to protect them?

Sweet, and cruel.

—You are cursed. To devour you, throwing a few humans into the sea is nothing for us. You know that well.

—Let me help you. If you come to the sea, I can make it so nothing will ever prey on you. I can protect that ship too.

Through her eyes, she saw the captain struggling, sinking as the ship went under. His desperate cries were swallowed by the waves. Her heart thudded painfully.

—So you won’t have to live hidden anymore—I’ll make you human, and I’ll safeguard that ship. Trust me.

The voice slowed, growing softer—like her mother’s tone, whispering sweetly.

—I swear it, in the name of Leviathan.

Like deepening waves, the voice from the sea enfolded her.

Her breath caught, and the tide closed the dream over her once more.