Chapter Text
Would ya lend a hand to me if I needed help?
Would ya keep me company when I'm by myself?
And if heaven doesn't want us
Would you go with me to hell?
Hope you know I don't want nobody else.
L.
~1723~
Tucked along the southern coast of Joseon, the village of Haemil clung to the rocks of the Ocean.
From a distance, it looked like any modest fishing village.
Stone-walled homes with thatched roofs, smoke curling from chimneys, boats bobbing gently in the port.
But beneath its surface, Haemil thrived as a lesser-known pirate haven.
Hidden coves sheltered smuggled goods, and the locals: fishers, traders, and tavernkeepers alike, knew when to ask questions and when to look away.
The Royal Navy rarely ventured this far south, and even when they did, Haemil knew how to disappear.
"I'm telling ya," Wooyoung declared, arms swinging with flair, "The Rusty Gull isn’t just a place to drink as it might seem to be. It’s a haven for the lawless, a sanctuary for anyone who lives by the sea and the sword. You want a crew? A job? Trouble? This is where you find it. But be warned—what happens in there rarely stays in there. The walls have ears, the floors have teeth, and the wrong move might earn you a one-way toss into the bed of the ocean.”
"Gods," Yeosang rolled his eyes. "He’s so dramatic."
"You should’ve been an entertainer Wooyo, not a pirate," Hongjoong muttered, walking ahead down the cobblestone alley San had pointed them toward.
"I can be both,” Wooyoung pouted. “And this is my hometown, remember? I know what I’m talking about!”
The tavern loomed at the end of the lane, its sign gently swinging in the sea breeze.
A one-eyed painted seagull, stared down from above. The tavern’s name—The Rusty Gull—was etched beneath in weathered but bold script.
The building itself looked humble but solid, its salt-worn wood polished by time and care.
It reminded Hongjoong of the bones of an old sailor, weathered but dignified.
Neat. Well-kept.
Inside, the scent of sea air mingled with lemon oil, spiced rum, and old smoke. Lanternlight flickered warmly, casting a soft glow across the room.
A wrought-iron chandelier hung above—unpretentious, but elegant in its simplicity.
The floors, though old, gleamed faintly under the light. The tables were heavy oak, rounded at the edges. Not broken or bloodied. Chairs matched, each one sturdy, no limp legs or mismatched pieces.
A trio of musicians played in the corner—not quite a sea shanty, but something close. Their instruments were scuffed but lovingly repaired, their tune light enough to sway the crowd without drowning the conversation.
Of course Wooyoung was being dramatic, but that was simply how he told the truth.
Because the place didn’t look like a pirate tavern.
Not on the surface. But it felt like one, if one knew what to look for. The way the back booths had perfect views of both doors, the way conversations quieted when strangers stepped in, the subtle posture of regulars who always sat with their backs to the wall.
The Rusty Gull wore its disguise well.
And that was exactly the point.
The bar stretched across the far wall—long, polished mahogany. Spotless. Behind it, bottles gleamed in neat rows: aged rum, spiced brandy, and liquors from across the sea. Labels written with care. Glasses lined the shelves upside down, waiting.
Hongjoong’s steps slowed.
His gaze fixed.
The barkeep.
The lanternlight caught his face—sharp cheekbones, a clean jawline. His black hair, tied back in a loose leather strip and gleamed as he moved, with a few strands falling across his forehead.
He wore a fitted white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a deep brown leather vest embroidered with subtle details. Worn but dignified. Like everything else in the place.
The man moved with the ease and confidence of someone who had worked both behind a bar and somehow...through a battlefield.
There was something about him that-
"Captain?"
Hongjoong blinked. Yunho stood beside him, looking concerned. Apparently it wasn't the first time he had said his name. “You look like you came across a siren,” he teased.
Hongjoong glanced back toward the bar. The barkeep was handling two drunken sailors with a barely there smile, a flick of his wrist, and a look that sent one stumbling away with an apologetic grunt.
Maybe he had.
Dark eyes met his. And held. Hongjoong exhaled slowly.
Τhese eyes. They–
“Captain Kim?”
Another voice. Hongjoong turned again annoyed.A tall man with sharp eyes, inked skin, and silver glinting in each ear stepped forward from the shadows. “And you are?”
“Ian,” the man said, offering a hand with a half-grin. “Keeper of the inn.”
So this was the one they were meant to meet. The contact. The one they were selling the loot to.
“Let’s talk outside then,” Hongjoong said with a wink.
“You haven’t even had a drink yet,” Ian asked with a pointed glance toward the bar.
“We’ll settle that later.” Hongjoong smirked, then tossed a coin pouch toward Yunho. “Order whatever you want—for all of them.”
Yunho caught it with a nod, already turning to the others.
Hongjoong followed Ian outside, but his eyes drifted one last time toward the bar and the man behind it.
The barkeep wasn’t looking anymore.
But somehow… the hum of the tavern felt softer, warmer, as if the place itself had asked Hongjoong not to go.
*
The storm broke and yet the wind howled like a beast, and the waves crashed wildly against the rocks by the time Hongjoong returned to the tavern.
His coat was soaked at the edges, his boots leaving small puddles on the wooden floor.
He didn’t stop at his crew’s table, only gave Yunho a nod — a silent sign that the deal was done, that the gold was where it should be. The rest could wait.
His steps took him straight to the bar, to the stool directly across from the barkeep with the round eyes.
The man gave him a nod, the barest curve of a smile playing at his lips. The lanternlight caught the glint of his rings swaying gently as he moved.
“Rum,” Hongjoong said, his voice low and edged from the cold and the burdens of the day. “The strongest you have.”
The barkeep raised a brow, the smirk ghosting wider.
“Aye, I’ve got plenty of rum,” he said, with a voice warm but all the same teasing,“But can you handle it, sailor?”
Sailor?
Hongjoong smiled. That slow, dangerous kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His copper hair clung damply to his brow.
“Don’t you know who I am?”
The barkeep tilted his head, and smirked back as he reached for a dark, aged bottle. His movements were precise. His nails were clean and well-kept, his fingers long and steady as he poured.
“Hm…” His dark eyes sparkled like wet stone beneath the tavern lights. “The one who thinks their name alone is enough to act like they own every place they step foot into?” He slid the glass in front of Hongjoong, “What happened to hello?”
Cocky.
Was it what Hongjoong expected? Not at all. Did he like it — despite the sting of his pride? Damn him, he liked it.
However, he knew how to play this game. And he’d make this man blush as fleet as a whispered secret.
“My bad — Hello, fine treasure. In my defense, I was too busy being captivated by you to remember basic manners.”
The barkeep’s fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and for a fleeting breath his gaze flickered downward — the barest crack. “I can’t blame you then, can I?” His voice softened just a touch, but the glint in his gaze stayed. “So, what’s your name?”
Hongjoong held his gaze, let it linger as he downed the rum in one long swallow that burned its way to his chest.
“The one who can handle strong rum, apparently.” he sighed, letting the warmth of it settle and winked at the other, “Another, if you’re feeling generous.”
The barkeep’s smile turned sly, the gold of his earring catching the low light as he reached again for the bottle. “Improving with the manners, are we?” His voice was smooth as aged rum, touched with that knowing edge of a someone who had heard every excuse, every boast, every drunken confession. But beneath the calm, there was a spark—like a storm waiting just offshore.
His dark eyes glimmered like the sea under moonlight, sharp, always watching.
“Here you go,” he said, sliding the glass to Hongjoong, “I’m Seonghwa, by the way. Nice to meet you, sailor.” he added hiding a small cough behind a polite smile.
“Beautiful name,” Hongjoong replied, his words balancing between jest and sincerity. “It suits you.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” Seonghwa said, biting his lip to chase back a grin.
Not bad?
Hongjoong gave a theatrical sigh, shaking his head as though genuinely wounded. “First time anyone’s called me that, you know. ‘Not bad.’ I’ll be losing sleep over it.”
Seonghwa snorted softly,“You don’t strike me as the type who needs strangers’ praise to prop up his ego.”
Hongjoong’s grin deepened, that dangerous kind that promised trouble or pleasure—sometimes both.
“You’re not a stranger though… are you?”
Seonghwa leaned in, close enough for Hongjoong to catch the faintest trace of lavender soap and sea air. The other's voice dropped low with amusement, “Do you flirt like this with every barkeep you meet?”
“Jealous already?” Hongjoong teased, arching a brow.
“But of course.” Seonghwa clutched his chest dramatically, but the amusement in his eyes betrayed his act, “You’re implying I’m not the one? I’m heartbroken,'' he muttered, as if Hongjoong had shattered his world.
Hongjoong’s smirk turned slow, assured—like he already knew how this night would end. Like the game had only just beg–
“Seonghwa-ya? Why are you still here?”
Hongjoong took a slow sip of his rum as Ian emerged from the shadows behind the bar. One of his large hands slipped easily around Seonghwa’s waist—casual.
Hard to miss.
“It’s fine,” Seonghwa said quietly, his voice softer than before. “I still have to carry a few bottles up from the cellar, and then—”
“I’ll do it,” Ian cut in gently. His tone left no room for argument. “Go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
Something flickered across Seonghwa’s face—heat rising in his cheeks, his fingers curling ever so slightly on the rag he had been gripping against the bar.
So.The innkeeper and the barkeep?
Classic.
Annoying too.
Ian gave Hongjoong a polite nod, already stepping away toward two fishermen settling at the far end of the counter, leaving no room for further comment.
And then—Seonghwa’s gaze found Hongjoong’s again.
For all their teasing banter, Hongjoong's sharp tongue, and Seonghwa's playful smirks, there was something so unguarded in him at that moment—so soft, it tugged at something deep in Hongjoong’s chest.
Seonghwa lingered there a breath longer, his lips parting like he might speak. Instead, he offered a gentle smile. Tender, fleeting.
“Goodnight, sailor,” he said at last.
And he turned, slipping into the quiet of the back door of the tavern without looking back.
Hongjoong downed his drink, leaving an extra few silver coins on the wooden counter and went back to the table of his crew where everyone seemed to be in particularly high spirits.
''So, how did it go, captain?'' Yunho winked while petting Mingi's head that was casually resting on his lap.
''What?''
''Did you get the siren? any plans for tonight?''
''He isn't avail–'' Hongjoong paused sensing the blood pound in his ears, ''What the fuck are you talking about?''
''Oh no, the captain is smitten?'' Wooyoung giggled and immediately earned himself a kick under the table.
Ridiculous.
Sure, Hongjoong had noticed the other—but not in a special way. Just the way one notices when a song they enjoy is playing on a fair.
It’s not like he was memorizing the way the barkeep smiled, or the color of his eyes.
That would be… weird. He just wanted to have some fun tonight. Which—in Hongjoong's case– wasn't weird at all.
"He's annoying," Hongjoong finally muttered to Yunho and Wooyoung, trying—failing—to wipe the grin off their faces."Well—annoying is a strong word for a stranger. It’s just... the way he exists. All dumb jokes, and that smile for no reason. It’s frustrating."
"Pot calling the kettle black much?" Wooyoung snorted, only after shifting his legs safely out of striking distance.
"I’m your senior.'' Hongjoong hissed, narrowing his eyes. ''And your captain."
"And yet I have a man and you don’t," Wooyoung sung sweetly, throwing an arm over San’s shoulder. "Clearly, you’re doing something wrong."
"I’m not looking for a man, Wooyoung."
"Right. Captain Kim Hongjoong—untameable, like the sea itself," Wooyoung declared, his head tilted dramatically, mimicking Hongjoong’s usual tone—until he cracked himself up, his usual high-pitched laughter echoing between the tables.
Good gods.
"I’m going for a drink. Alone. We’re leaving in the morning. See you back at the Aurora."
"I thought we were sleeping at the inn tonight?" Wooyoung called after Hongjoong, frowning.
"Try not to be a pain in my ass next time, and I might consider it," Hongjoong shot back with a sardonic smirk, pushing to his feet.
He strode off, mindlessly at first, his boots striking the cobblestones in a rhythm that soothed him more than his crew ever could tonight.
The road behind the Rusty Gull was quiet, the kind of quiet that came after a storm. Rain had left the stone slick, reflecting the moonlight in broken silver patches. From the port came the soft hush of water against wood, fishing boats bobbing like tired animals at rest. A shutter creaked open somewhere; chimney smoke unfurled, curling into the dark.
Hongjoong lit his cigar, inhaling deep, letting the smoke warm him.
"Come, come, don’t be afraid! The storm’s over now, isn’t it?"
And he froze.
The soft voice cutting through the night like a lullaby.
His heart kicked once, hard against his ribs.
Was it real? Or too much rum?
But no—there it was. A mewling chorus answered the voice, persistent, near. He took a cautious step toward the sound, his steps silent now on the damp stone, slipping behind a stack of firewood piled high beside the inn.
And he saw him.
Seonghwa knelt in the moonlight, a wooden bowl cradled in one hand. Around him, a motley parade of cats—striped, black, calico—crept closer on cautious paws. His voice was low, coaxing, a melody meant only for them. And somehow, they listened. Maybe they understood.
Maybe that gentleness needed no translation.
Hongjoong stayed hidden, with his heart beating far too fast for a simple scene. And gods help him, why did he want to see it again?
One bold kitten butted against Seonghwa's knee, and he smiled, scattering a bit more food as if it was a treasure shared between old friends. Then his fingers brushed the ground as he let a black one sniff his hand– his touch impossibly soft when he scratched her head, and a quiet chuckle when one of the kittens batted at his bootlace.
He kept talking to the cats, calling them by what sounded like their very own names. Each one was soft on his lips, each cat responding with a flick of its tail or a step closer.
And maybe—that was the softest thing Hongjoong had ever seen.
He didn’t even realize he was smiling, not until—
"Hwa." The back door of the tavern creaked open, and a familiar voice broke the hush. "I knew I’d find you here."
Hongjoong’s smile faded into something closer to a scowl.
Hwa. Hwa and Ian. Of course. Ridiculous.
"So… did you, uh, go?"
Seonghwa kept his eyes on the cats, his fingers kept scratching gently behind the ear of the black one that refused to stray from his side. "I did."
"And?"
A pause. Seonghwa nodded faintly, still not looking up. "Same old. Nothing major."
"Nothing major?" Ian’s voice tightened.
Seonghwa finally glanced up, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Not yet."
"But he said—"
"It’s fine," Seonghwa cut him off, sharper this time with a forced calm in his tone. "Just keeping an eye on things for now."
Ian exhaled heavily, crouching beside him, his fingers running absently through the calico’s fur. "That’s good," he said quietly.
Seonghwa met his gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "Shouldn’t you be at the tavern?"
"I left the boy on it for a second. I just wanted to check if there was any...progress."
So.The barkeep tangled in some of Ian’s business too? Hongjoong scoffed under his breath, hidden behind the firewood. The 'rebellious couple', weren’t they?
"Take tomorrow off," Ian went on gently. "I’ll handle the tavern with Jungwon."
Seonghwa didn’t answer right away. When he did rise from the ground, Hongjoong noticed the faintest hesitation, the way he steadied himself against the wall for just a breath before brushing imaginary dust from his vest. "Do you...happen to know that man who sat at the bar earlier?"
"Gonna need more than that," Ian chuckled.
"The one with the daring eyes and the smooth voice? I spoke to him right before you arrived."
Ian blinked, then shook his head in no.
"The one with the red scarf."
Ah.That made Hongjoong smirk. The grin sliding across his face like a cat who had cornered its prey.
"Oh, Kim Hongjoong?!" Ian said at last. "He's the captain of the Aurora."
Seonghwa’s breath hitched. "The Aurora?"
Hongjoong could practically taste the victory on his tongue. Of course Seonghwa knew his ship. The Aurora, whose name carried whispers across the seas like a storm about to break. The ship that haunted naval dreams, whose flag sent crews to their knees before a shot was fired.The ship that outran the law, the navy, bounty hunters—and left nothing but clean victory in its wake. He crossed his arms,his chin lifting just slightly, satisfied.
"Did he make you uncomfortable?" Ian asked, cautious.
And Hongjoong’s grin froze once again.
But Seonghwa shook his head, and there was something almost wistful in his voice. "No. Not at all. He… he was sweet."
Sweet?
The annoyance in Hongjoong’s features dissolved, now replaced by stunned disbelief.
Sweet? Had the barkeep gone blind? Or daft? Captain Kim Hongjoong of the Aurora, sweet?
Enough of this.
Without another glance, Hongjoong dived into the shadows and slipped away. His boots carried him through the village streets, toward any tavern that would drown the irritation sizzling inside him.
Sweet.
The word echoed like mockery in his head.
And yet… why did it cling to him?
Why did it warm him, even as it vexed him? Why did it make him want to prove Seonghwa right—and wrong—all at once?
He stepped into the first tavern he came across, striding straight for the bar.
A man with no time to waste.
The place was dimly lit, the glow of lanterns barely enough to cut through the haze of pipe smoke. The low hum of conversation mingled with the clink of tankards and the occasional burst of rough laughter.
"Rum," he growled, not sparing the barkeep a glance.
His mind wasn’t really there.
It was still back at the Rusty Gull. The yard. The cats. The way those two leaned in close when they spoke— their shoulders brushing in a way that was casual enough to pass, but deliberate enough to set Hongjoong’s teeth on edge. Yeah. Something was going on.
It wasn’t handholding or kisses.And yet, this was the kind of bond you couldn’t fake. The kind that needed no performance. Obvious.
Pointless. Stupid thoughts.
Maybe Seonghwa was right. Maybe Hongjoong had grown too used to people looking at him with awe, eager to please, quick to fall in line, or into his bed.
But how could someone he had just met—someone who should’ve been flustered or impressed as well—see through him so easily?
Hongjoong took a slow sip of his rum, the burn down his throat grounding him.
Only then did he notice them—a boy and a girl flanking him, trading amused glances over the rim of their mugs.
"Ahoy, Captain," the boy said with a crooked grin, tipping his hat. "Word is, you steal hearts faster than treasure." The wink was bold enough to almost earn Hongjoong’s laugh.
On his other side, the girl twirled a lock of golden hair between her fingers, her eyes glittering with mischief. "I’m curious, Captain," she purred, leaning in close enough that Hongjoong caught the scent of rosewater and rum. "Does your charm work as well on land as it does at sea?"
Hongjoong smirked, slow and dangerous.
His gaze flicked between the two of them, the sharp edge of his grin making clear they were playing with fire.
"Depends who’s asking," he drawled, finishing his glass in one go. "And how much trouble they’re willing to risk."
The boy raised a mocking eyebrow at her, "Easy now, lass. There’s no telling what a pirate captain might do with this kind of attention."
"Oh, I think the captain’s well accustomed to handling...dangerous situations the girl chuckled, glancing at Hongjoong with her eyes full of playful challenge, ''Even–keep both plates spinning,''
Hongjoong’s smirk deepened. He leaned back on his stool, stretching his legs out a little, letting the rum settle warm in his chest.
That’s more like it. The night, at least, still knew how to pay its respects.
His gaze flicked between them, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Let’s go then," he said smoothly, like a dare.
Both the boy and girl exchanged an excited glance, before they led the way outside and in to the inn next-door.
The air inside the place thick with the scent of cheap perfume, candle wax, and spiced wine, mingling with the ever-present haze of smoke from flickering lanterns and tallow candles.
"What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen out at sea, Captain?"
''Captain, do you trust your compass or your instincts?"
"Captain, have you ever met someone who made you want to drop anchor?"
"Do the stars look different when you have no shore to return to, Captain?"
All these questions while entering a room with velvet curtains and heavy tapestries, and yet Hongjoong's mind kept pulling him back to a stranger who called him sailor.
***
Captain's Journal
02.01.1723
The Rusty Gull smelled faintly of oysters and wet stone.
He leaned on the bar like he owned me.
I hate the way I couldn’t look away.
***
Next week, the Aurora approached the same familiar port, its outline rising through the morning mist.
Hongjoong gripped the wheel, letting out a sigh to be lost to the wind.
Behind him, Wooyoung leaned against the railing, grinning like the devil himself.
“Come on, Captain. You had so much fun last time we were here. Keeper of both plates spinning—what’s a man to do?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Hongjoong growled, shooting him a sharp glance as he raised a hand to signal Jongho at the anchor.
He made a mental note—once again—not to share anything with Wooyoung. Ever again.
“You know our old port isn’t an option anymore,” Wooyoung added, half serious now. “The Royal Navy’s practically camped on the docks, waiting for us to waltz in.”
San, ever the practical one, stepped beside them. “We still need to offload the goods, Captain. The Rusty Gull paid well last time. And the market’s ripe—we might find buyers for those private letters we snatched off on Tuesday. Best to be rid of them soon.”
Hongjoong exhaled through his nose, fighting the urge to snap.
They were right.
The Aurora creaked beneath him, the familiar groan of the sea strong against the hull. “I know,” he muttered.
“Then let’s make the best of it.'' San gave him a steady look. ''The day’s still young.”
Hongjoong said nothing more, just spun the wheel with a flick of his wrist, guiding the Aurora toward the dock—toward the tavern he hadn’t wanted to see again so soon.
The market was buzzing with any kind of noise. Merchants shouting their prices, the scent of spiced meat and fish scales thick in the air, wooden stalls crowded with silk traders, fishermen, and gamblers looking for their next pocket to pick.
The rest of his crew had already gone ahead to the Rusty Gull, while San and Wooyoung lingered a few steps away from him, carefully inspecting a stall overflowing with nets and hooks.
Hongjoong didn't like places like this. Too many eyes, too many ears lurking. His usual swagger was a little less pronounced, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd, and then...they started following a man as he moved through the market.
The way the sunlight kissed his hair.
His meticulous eyes as he reached for the fresh fruit.
The poised way he handed the money to the stall keepers.
There was something reserved and quiet in every movement, like he was unaware of the way the world seemed to pause when he walked.
Hongjoong hadn’t even meant to watch for so long, but just the sight of the man, so focused on his shopping, felt like a spell.It wasn't until the other's gaze lifted from the baskets he was arranging his shopping into and landed on Hongjoong. His expression softened at once as he recognized him. Hongjoong’s grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, a look both teasing and quietly triumphant. And that was all the invitation the other seemed to need.
With far more confidence in his step, Seonghwa wove through the bustling market, the crowd parting around him. Hongjoong’s gaze stayed fixed on him, as he closed the distance between them.
“Ahoy, sailor!”
Hongjoong rolled his eyes, though the spark in them gave him away. “Ahoy, uhm… Seongho, was it?”
But instead of offense, an easy laugh escaped the barkeep—warm, unbothered, like the words had been a dare he had expected and welcomed. The sound carried something light, something alive. “You’re back!”
Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly, the playful glint in his eyes brightening. “Did you miss me?”
“I wouldn’t say miss… but it's hard to ignore the chaos you seem to bring with you.”
The tension between them eased, replaced by that easy charm that always seemed to creep into Seonghwa’s voice. It drew a true grin from Hongjoong—wider, warmer than the usual sharp edge he wore.“You’re welcome, for adding a little thrill to your day.”
“I suppose, in small doses, I can tolerate it.”
“Small doses, huh?” Hongjoong’s grin deepened, mischief filling in his gaze. “I’m here for a visit. Though, you might regret not having me stick around longer.”
“Hm, I doubt it,” Seonghwa teased, his voice light, the glint in his eyes making the words anything but serious. “So, how long are you staying? Will you drop by th—”
A sudden lurch—a shadow moving too fast.
A dagger glinting, lunged from the side, aiming for the pouch at Seonghwa's hip.
Before the blade even got close, Hongjoong darted forward. With a sharp clink, his sword was halfway out of its sheath. His arm found its way around Seonghwa's waist–tugging him out of reach, his body slipping between him and the thief without hesitation.
"You really think that’s a good idea, lad?" Hongjoong's voice was low, smooth, but carried the danger of someone who had seen more fights than he could count– and won every one of them.
The thief hesitated.
A mistake.
In the next second, Hongjoong's dagger was pressing at his throat, his grip steady, his expression cold."You can leave with your fingers," he murmured, "Or; I can take a souvenir instead. Your choice."
The thief stumbled back, disappearing into the crowd, and only then did Hongjoong turn his full attention back to Seonghwa.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice low, the edge of adrenaline softening into something gentler. His hand still rested at Seonghwa’s waist, fingers warm against him. Hongjoong told himself it was instinct—just instinct.
Seonghwa’s breath came too quick. His chest rose and fell, the flush on his cheeks too deep. Hongjoong wasn’t sure if it was the danger that left him shaken. Seonghwa's gaze lingered on him a beat too long. He was still gripping the grocery baskets, his knuckles white with the effort. “I—had it, under control,” he muttered, his tone aiming for confidence, but the slight tremor in his voice gave him away.
Hongjoong let out a quiet laugh, tilting his head just enough that his copper hair caught the light. “Yeah, I know,” he said, amused but not unkind. Without waiting for permission, he eased the baskets from Seonghwa’s hands. ''Shit, these are heavy,'' he said under his breath, adjusting his grip on them.
Seonghwa pushed back a stray lock of hair from his damp brow, his fingers trembling faintly. His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but only managed a shy, “What are you doing?”
Hongjoong shifted the baskets to one arm, his grin deepening as he glanced at him. “Saving you from the obvious, clearly,” he said, light yet unable to fully mask the concern in it. “You’re out here trying to haul all this like it’s nothing. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
“I’m not—” Seonghwa began, but his breath hitched.
“Captain!” San and Wooyoung came barreling toward them, breathless with urgency. “We found the guy we were after, and—”
Both of them paused mid-sentence, their gazes dropping to the baskets weighed down in Hongjoong’s hands, then flicking to the figure at his side.
“Uhm… this is Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said before he could stop himself, cursing internally the second his mouth ran ahead of his mind.
Fuck. Why did I use his name?
His jaw clenched, but it was too late to take it back. “The barkeep from the Rusty Gull.” he added.
Wooyoung’s grin widened, his eyes bright with mischief, but to his credit, his voice stayed kind. “Oh! Pleasure. Holding steady Seonghwa-ssi? You look a wee pale.”
And Wooyoung wasn’t wrong.
Seonghwa’s color had drained, the flush from the market gone, leaving his face drawn and his eyes dulled.
The barkeep offered a small, polite smile, one that tried for reassurance but didn’t quite make it past his lips. “I’m fine,” he said evenly—too evenly—“Nothing to worry about.”
Hongjoong didn’t buy it for a second, but he wasn't going to drag it further. Not with San and Wooyoung watching.
“Take care of the deal. Meet me at the Rusty Gull after,” he said, sharp enough to cut short any of Wooyoung’s possible teasing, and the two men snapped to with a quick “Aye, Captain!” before hurrying off.
Hongjoong sighed.
At least they hadn’t embarrassed him. And tonight? Tonight, they'd sleep at the inn.
He turned to check on Seonghwa—only to find him still rooted to the spot, as if his legs had forgotten how to move.
“Shall we?” Hongjoong called back to the other, his voice a little gruffer than intended, pointing with his chin towards the road.
Seonghwa hesitated, gaze dropping to the ground like he was searching for steady footing. A breath left him—soft, weary—before he lifted his head, meeting Hongjoong’s eyes at last.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. There was something in his voice—gratitude? but something else too. Something that send a pang to Hongjoong’s chest once again.
The pirate's brow arched, his usual smirk fading into a more tempered expression. “Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice dipping low, almost warm. A flicker of a grin touched his lips. “I don’t leave anyone behind. Not my watch.”
Seonghwa fell into step beside him, his smile small but genuine, the kind that reached his eyes at last. “Still,” he murmured as they crossed a quiet street, where the market noise melted into the sea breeze. “I’m glad you showed up.”
And Hongjoong, caught off guard by the softness in those words, gave a slow nod.
Their eyes met again—just for a breath, but it was enough—and Hongjoong let a true smile break through, brief but real, before he faced forward and kept walking.
~
Seonghwa was polishing the wooden counter of the bar, his fingers trailing along the smooth grain as he watched the room with quiet vigilance.
The Gull was alive tonight—laughter, dice games, tankards clinking—but he barely registered it.His mind was stuck hours ago.
At the market.
Hongjoong had all but launched between him and the thief. No hesitation—just a sudden, almost reckless pprecision.
Then he yanked the baskets off Seonghwa's hands. Turned and walked with his ever present smirk, as if nothing had happened.
A flash of irritation had sparked in Seonghwa’s chest.
He hadn’t ask for help.
But the feeling didn’t linger long.
Because beneath the impulse there was something else.
Seonghwa had wanted to be annoyed. Wanted to keep a distance. But that easy warmth, the unspoken protectiveness, made it hard.
He smiled to himself, a barely-there twitch of his lips as he tossed ice into a tankard.
He knows how to get under my skin.But—damn—it feels good.
Two visits...That’s all it had been.Two encounters, a handful of conversations–basically banters and teasing. And yet Hongjoong had carved out space in his mind like he belonged there.
After they returned from the market, Seonghwa had insisted on food and drinks for the crew—his treat. Of course Hongjoong brushed it off with a mutter and a roll of his eyes, but in the end he turned to the others and said, “Save something for Wooyoung and San.”
As if he always had that unbothered way. And always proved otherwise.
He had disappeared for a few hours after that—doing business with Ian—but now, there he was again.
Back in the same stool he had sat the first time they met.
That same long, embroidered black coat draped dramatically over his shoulders, gold thread catching the lamplight. Chains, buckles, and edges slightly tattered by sea wind. Rings stacked on his fingers, necklaces layered at his collarbone. His copper hair was tousled, the front shorter, loose braids tucked behind one ear, wild at the crown. A faint scar curved just over his cheekbone, framing the eye rather than marring it. He wore kohl smudged around his sharp eyes—half-pirate, half-warrior.
And yet, for all that presence, he sat quietly.
No greeting. No request for a drink. Just watching the room, gaze unreadable.
Seonghwa’s hands stilled.
There was something about this man—that didn’t make sense. Seonghwa shouldn’t have been drawn to him. Not this much. Not so soon.
But there was gravity in him.
As if the tide itself shifted just to pull him closer.
Seonghwa tried to ignore him, until–he couldn't.
''You were going to ask if I added the spice, weren’t you?” he teased as he slid a plate across the bar.
Hongjoong blinked. “I was.”
“I saw your eyes drift to the jar behind me,”
“Or maybe you read my mind.” the pirate teased.
Seonghwa laughed under his breath, but it left a strange flutter in his chest—because just for a second, it didn’t feel like the first time they’d had such a conversation. "You look like you’ve been through a storm."
"A storm would’ve been kinder," Hongjoong muttered, shaking off his coat, sea spray and tension clinging to him like a second skin. "A trade I was dealing for went south."
Seonghwa nodded, already reaching for the bottle. Without a word, he poured the heavy rum, sliding it across the polished wood with an ease that made it look like second nature. “Then you need this more than I need the coin,” he said, a glint of mischief in his eye as he added a wink for good measure.
Hongjoong arched a brow at that but accepted the drink, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
“Are you always this generous to strangers?”
“Only to the ones that find my lines smart enough to steal them,” Seonghwa teased, biting down on his lip to stifle a laugh.
And for a moment—just a moment—he saw the weight lift from Hongjoong’s gaze. The storm clouds that lingered behind his eyes scattered, chased back by the simplest thing: a shared joke, a fleeting connection that felt like light breaking through.
Seonghwa tilted his head, leaning one hip against the counter, the curve of a smile tugging at his lips. His voice was playful, touched with warmth.
“Need another, sailor?”
Hongjoong paused mid-sip, eyes meeting his over the rim of the glass—watching, weighing, something flickering there, that hadn’t been visible a minute ago. Then he drained it in one smooth pull and set the glass down with a soft thud, lips curling.“Sailor?”
Seonghwa’s heart gave a traitorous little jolt at the llook Hongjoong gave him—sharp, curious, playful. “You look like one,” he replied, letting the tease slip out, his voice lighter than he felt.
Hongjoong’s grin turned crooked, feigning offense. “I think you know by now that I’m a captain.”
"Oh? And what makes you so sure?"
"The ship I command, the crew that follows my orders, and the rather expensive red scarf I was wearing the last time I was here. Regrettably I couldn't find it this morning."
Seonghwa felt the blood boiling in his cheeks before he chuckled, pouring another drink, "Sounds tragic. Must be a fine scarf."
"The finest....'' Hongjoong bragged looking at him as if he knew something Seonghwa didn't, ''I'd even say it's my trademark,''
"And yet, without it, you’re just another sailor at my bar."
Hongjoong let out a crooked grin shaking his head, "You enjoy this, don’t you?"Seonghwa pursed his lips inside his mouth, pouring some ice in a small barrel.
"So, what will it take for you to call me ‘Captain’?"
Seonghwa leaned in, smirking, "A ship. A crew. And finding that silly scarf,"
Hongjoong nodded while lifting his glass, "Then I suppose I have some work to do."
For a few quiet moments he had been glancing over at Seonghwa before he started again, his tone teasing yet curious, "So. . .at the market this morning. You froze up, lost all color. Why were you so afraid?"
Seonghwa's eyes widened briefly, caught off guard by the question, but quickly looked away
and forced a smile, shrugging, "It wasn’t fear, just… I wasn’t expecting it, that's all."
Hongjoong frowned slightly, his brows knitting together as he watched him closely
"Come on, don't lie to me. It was like... you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t even move."
he paused, then added with a playful smirk: "Just admit it, you were scared! I won’t make fun of you."
Seonghwa's breath stumbled slightly at the memory, the reason bubbling up but not quite breaking free, "Really, it was nothing." he coughed lightly, "I carried quite a lot of coin.I keep the gold of the inn on me and we can't afford to waste it. Nothing more to it."
"I get it, I get it.'' Hongjoong chuckled softly, clearly not buying it, ''But you look tougher than that," he tilted his head playfully, eyes still studying him, "So what kept you from doing anything?"
Seonghwa paused, internally wrestling, but instead, he forced another smile, "Fine, I was scared! I wasn’t in the right state of mind for a fight, alright?" he shifted again, taking a deeper breath.
Better off that way.
He tried to laugh it off, with a hollow sound, and his gaze drifted away from Hongjoong.
Just on time.
Because in the far corner of the bar a group of rough-looking pirates had encircled Jungwon.
"Oops. My hand slipped.'' One of them snatched a cup from the tray, ''Guess you’ll have to clean that up."
"C’mon now, pup, just a little closer. We ain’t gonna bite... unless ye ask real nice."
The boy gripped his tray tight.
"That’s enough!"
The tavern quieted.The pirates glanced over, chuckling, but Seonghwa was already moving– stepping out from behind the bar, rushing towards them.
"Ye got somethin' to say, scurvy barkeep?"
He ignored the insult, shielding Jungwon with an arm. Their eyes meet briefly, "Go to the back. Take a breath." The younger hesitated, then nodded and slipped away, the tension in his shoulders easing.
Seonghwa turned back to the pirates, cracking his knuckles, his voice like steel: "I’ve seen men like you before. Loud in a pack, but nothing but cowards when standing alone."
A heavy silence fell among tthem.The one who seemed to be their captain sneered, trying to laugh it off, but there was an edge to his moves—uncertainty creeping in while Seonghwa towered over him. "We was just havin' some fun—"
"You were trying how far you could go.'' Seonghwa interrupted him, slow and deliberate, ''And you’ve already gone too far. Now... you can finish your pints and leave quietly. Or, we can see how well you hold your liquor while lying on the floor."
The pirates exchanged glances. Then, one by one, they muttered curses and scraped back their chairs, tossing coins onto the table before slinking out the door.
Seonghwa watched until they disappeared into the night, then exhaled before collecting the plates and pints and going back behind the bar.
Behind him, Jungwon peeked out from the kitchen. Seonghwa clapped him on the shoulder, then headed back to pouring the next drink as if nothing happened.
The tavern returned to its usual hum, the air still thick with tension but lighter now.
Hongjoong remained at his seat, his sharp gaze lingering on the door for a beat longer—like he expected the world outside to throw another storm his way.
Then his eyes flicked back to Seonghwa, that same insufferable smirk tugging at his lips.
“Well, that was a show, wasn’t it?” he said, leaning back in his stool.
Seonghwa exhaled, setting a bottle back on the shelf a little harder than he meant to. His heart was still trying to settle from the rush of it all, but his voice came out steady. “It might not seem like it, but I would protect anyone.”
Anyone who needs it. Even him, damn him.
Hongjoong’s grin deepened. “Hmmm, I see. Not leaving anyone behind on your watch either, eh?” There was that glint in his eye—teasing, but thoughtful too. “Quite the way you handled things... for someone who claims to be scared of a thief at the market.”
Seonghwa swallowed down the flutter of irritation.His gaze met Hongjoong’s, steady this time. “I never said I wasn’t capable,” he replied, his voice dropping lower, more intimate than he intended—like a truth slipping past his guard. “Just that I don’t enjoy getting involved with the likes of them.”
And for a moment, neither of them spoke.
The hum of the tavern seemed far away.
Hongjoong's eyes were glinting when he spoke again, "Looks like there’s a lot more to you than just a barkeep with a sharp tongue?" he leaned against the bar.
Seonghwa was pouring another drink with a grin that caught the light.
There was a sparkle in Hongjoong's eyes—something playful and sharp all at once.
“You might be surprised with what I’ve seen—and done—over the years,” he said, sliding another glass of rum towards him with a flick.
Hongjoong arched an eyebrow, “Care to tell me more? Or do I have to keep guessing?”
Seonghwa’s grin widened, mischief dancing at the corners of his lips.
Slowly, he pulled up his left sleeve, revealing a small but bold tattoo on the inside of his forearm: a stylized heart with a dagger piercing through it, on a single wave, inked in shades of deep blue and red.
Mist.
Hongjoong's lips unwillingly formed a surprised, little 'o'
That symbol didn’t belong to just any pirate crew—it belonged to the Crew of Mist, a legend on the high seas. Known for their raids and even more for their defiance of the empire’s greed. They had made it their business to outwit the navy and help those no one else would. Smuggling food to starving villages, ferrying refugees across dangerous waters. The Crew of Mist were respected, a crew that relied on wit as much as steel.
Hongjoong met Seonghwa’s eyes, and for a moment, he saw past the Seonghwa’s easy charm. A life of salt, blood, heroism.
“You were Crew of Mist?” he asked in a voice low with awe.
Seonghwa’s eyes formed half moons, amused by the pirate's reaction. “Aye,” he said, rolling his sleeve back down. “Learned a lot with them—how to fight, how to talk my way out of trouble, and how to help the right people. The sea’s not always about gold, you know.”
Hongjoong let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’d always heard the Crew of Mist were a ghost story...”
Seonghwa laughed softly, his dark eyes sparkling. “Ghosts leave shadows behind, sailor. Even on the sea.”
“So what happened?'' Hongjoong crossed his legs, intrigued. ''Why did you leave?”
The question seemed to hit harder than Hongjoong intended.
Seonghwa’s grin faltered, his gaze slipping to the worn wood of the bar. His fingers drummed once, twice—small, nervous.
“Ah—just got tired of the running,” he muttered, “Wanted something steadier. A place I could call home.”
Hongjoong knew a deflection when he saw one. Something behind Seonghwa’s eyes—raw and broken.
As if the reason was something more forced on him rather than his choice.
He took a long sip from his glass and let the silence stretch between them.
“You ever change your mind,” he said then, his tone seemingly unbothered yet sincere, “my ship always has a place for you.”
Seonghwa’s grin returned, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
A sudden thought hit Hongjoong like a stray wave.
He tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. “Isn’t your man gonna be mad if I steal you with Aurora though?”
Seonghwa blinked. “My who?”
Hongjoong scoffed, trying to ignore the annoying knot in his stomach. “You’re dying to hear me say it, eh?”
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “How many bottles have you had today?”
“Not enough,” Hongjoong shot back, though his grin felt too wide.
“Who is my man?” Seonghwa asked, disbelief lacing his tone.
Hongjoong’s eyes flickered away, heat creeping up his nape. “Aren’t you and Ian... a thing?”
Seonghwa’s laugh rang out—low and warm. “Me and Ian?” he repeated shaking his head.
“He’s like a brother to me. No romance here!”
Relief washed through Hongjoong, stronger than he’d like to admit. His chest loosened, and he found himself smiling—really smiling.
“Well,” he teased, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, “Good to know. I wouldn’t want to pick a fight with your brother.”
Seonghwa leaned in, eyes dancing. “You wouldn’t last a minute, sailor,” he said, and they laughed together.
For a moment, the sea outside felt quiet—almost kind.
And though the shadows in Seonghwa’s eyes never quite left, they were still sparkling.
***
Newspaper page, circa 1720
Inn and Tavern: The Rusty Gull — Where fortune and fun meet.
Step lively, or be swept under the tide.
Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
The Rusty Gull, the best tavern of the harbor, beckons all weary sailors, daring rogues, and bold adventurers!
Step inside this famed establishment where the ale flows as freely as the salty breeze, and the fire warms even the coldest of souls.
Feast on hearty fare and drink from casks of the finest rum before taking the stairs up, for a good night sleep.
Share tales of high seas and hidden treasures with a motley crew of pirates, smugglers, and mercenaries.
Beware, good traveler, for The Rusty Gull is no place for the faint of heart! Brawls and bargains alike fill the smoky air.
Open ‘til the moon fades and dawn breaks the horizon.
Find us by the crooked pier, where the gulls sing and the sea whispers her secrets!
***
The next week, Hongjoong stumbled once again into the Rusty Gull, the rich smell of sizzling tavern food—grease, spice, and something faintly sweet.
His shirt clung to his side, a dark stain spreading through the fabric.
His steps were uneven, one of his hands pressed tightly against his ribs.
He waved off the concerned glances from his crew with a lopsided grin, as he walked towards the bar for a well deserved cup of rum.
Yet, someone else wouldn't be so easily dismissed.
Seonghwa's eyes scanned him, then narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stepped out from behind the bar with a purposeful stride.
Hongjoong nearly stumbled, caught off-guard by the strength in his slender grip.
The barkeep dragged him—quite literally—around the end of the bar to a small stool tucked behind the counter. The scent of herbs and sea air hung in the air, mingling with the smell of spilled rum.
“Sit,” Seonghwa ordered, voice firmer than Hongjoong had ever heard it.
His lips parted to retort—he wasn’t taking commands, not from anyone but the sea itself—but before he could speak, Seonghwa’s hands were pressing down on his shoulders and Hongjoong found himself–sat.
“You’re dripping blood on my floor,” Seonghwa muttered.
Hongjoong smirked, his lips twitching despite the pain chewing on in his side. “Sentimental about wood, are you?”
Seonghwa ignored him, as he grabbed a clean cloth from a nearby shelf, then fetched a bottle of strong rum—no doubt to pour over the wounds.“Take off your shirt,”
Hongjoong’s grin widened, his tone turning teasing. “If you wanted me undressed, you could’ve just asked—”
The sting of the cloth pressing against the cut on Hongjoong's cheek made him hiss through his teeth, cutting off the joke.
“Off,” Seonghwa repeated, more gently this time, but with a firmness that left no room for jokes.
For once, Hongjoong listened.
He shrugged out of his shirt, wincing as the fabric stuck to the cut along his ribs.
He’d fought his share of skirmishes—on deck, in alleyways, on godforsaken docks—but something about this wound felt different.
Or maybe it was Seonghwa.
Who leaned towards it—gentle, sure, not flinching at the blood and the sight of torn muscle.
The barkeep worked silently, pouring rum over the gash and dabbing carefully with the cloth. Hongjoong found himself watching him more than he watched the wound.
The dimmed light painting shadows along Seonghwa’s cheeks, catching the curve of his lips, the care in his eyes.
Hongjoong had stitched up his own wounds before—taken a knife to his own skin without flinching—but this was different.
The way Seonghwa’s fingers moved over his skin, the way he didn’t even blink at the sight of countless, ugly, scars that marred Hongjoong's chest— It made something inside him— tighten.
“Does this happen often?” Seonghwa finally asked, his voice softer, quieter.
Hongjoong let out a slow breath, eyes drifting to the worn planks of the bar.
“More often than I can count,” he admitted, the words tasting like brine on his tongue.
Seonghwa’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second—and then he resumed, tying the bandage carefully. When he leaned back, Hongjoong noticed the tension in his jaw had eased, though his eyes still carried that quiet worry. “Then maybe you should stop throwing yourself into knives,” Seonghwa muttered, almost too soft to hear.
Hongjoong chuckled, the sound low and tired. “Wouldn’t be much of a pirate if I did.”
Seonghwa shook his head, rinsing his hands in a basin behind the bar.There was something different in his eyes now.
“Try not to die before next week,” he said, his voice warmer now, teasing. “I’d rather not have to find a new favorite patron.”
Hongjoong’s grin was slow but genuine. “Didn’t know I was your favorite.”
Seonghwa turned just enough for Hongjoong to catch the small quirk of their lips. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
They shared a lingering look—one that seemed to say more than either of them decided to voice.
Hongjoong rose from the stool, smirking even though his side ached with every move.
He let his gaze linger one last time on Seonghwa’s hands—steady, familiar, strong—before turning toward the staircase.
The night felt heavy as he climbed to his small room above the tavern.
He let himself fall forward on the creaking bed, the smell of green soap and old wood filling his nose, and closed his eyes — the ache on his side a dull reminder that the sea took as much as it gave.
Sleep came in ragged fits.
.
.
.
The sea stretches forever, moonlight catching on the waves like scattered silver.
He’s there—eyes dark as night, calling my name in a voice older than the tide.
I reach for him, but water pulls him under before my hand finds his.
I wake with salt on my lips,
and the ache in my chest won’t leave.
Hongjoong's eyes snapped open, his breath shuddering.
And Seonghwa’s name was still caught in his throat.