Seong ❦ Ocean Prince

Cold currents tore past him as Seong swam, biting against his skin and tangling through his hair as if the sea itself wanted to slow him down.

The prince—no, not a prince anymore, he reminded himself—pushed forward anyway, forcing his way deeper into the maze of jagged reef. Coral walls rose around him like a trap, sharp and uneven, closing in the further he went. His pulse pounded loudly in his ears, louder than the distant shouts of the royal guards echoing through the water behind him. He could hear them calling out to each other, their voices warped and carried by the current, too close for comfort.

Light cut through the darkness.

Thin beams from their lanterns swept across the reef, slicing through shadows and brushing against stone and coral. One passed just a little too close to where he had been moments ago. Seong’s chest tightened. He had miscalculated. He thought he knew these waters well enough to disappear, but the guards were faster than he expected.

Freedom was not supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to feel wide and endless, not tight in his chest, not sharp with fear. He pushed forward, turning quickly around a coral outcrop without thinking—

—and collided straight into someone.

The impact knocked the breath from him, his body jolting as everything went momentarily still. Before he could drift back or react, a pair of strong hands caught him by the shoulders, steadying him with quick, practiced force. The grip was firm, grounding, unfamiliar.

For a brief second, they hovered there in the dark, too close, limbs brushing, completely still. The stranger let out a low grunt. Seong froze. Another beam of light swept across the reef behind them, brighter this time, closer. Voices followed, clearer now, sharper, searching. The stranger’s grip tightened just slightly.

“Keep your voice down,” they both said at the same time.

Seong’s came out louder than he intended, edged with panic. The stranger’s was low, controlled, almost irritated. Seong blinked at them. “Huh? What do you mean, keep MY voice down?”

He barely got the words out before the stranger moved. Without warning, he was pulled downward, dragged into a narrow gap between rock formations where the shadows pooled thick and heavy. Seong stumbled with the motion, caught off guard by how easily the other guided him.

“We move, or we both get caught,” the stranger hissed, voice close to his ear now, urgent but steady. Seong hesitated. Just for a moment. He didn’t know this person. Everything about them felt wrong in a way he couldn’t explain. The tightness of their grip, the sharpness in their tone, the way they moved without hesitation, like danger was something familiar to them. Like they belonged in it.

Nothing about them felt safe. But the guards were getting closer. Another shout rang through the water, followed by the sweep of light passing over the entrance of the reef. Too close. Far too close.

The stranger glanced back at him, eyes catching what little light filtered into the shadows. There was something sharp in that look, something assessing, like they were already deciding whether Seong was worth the trouble. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

Two strangers tangled in the same moment. One running from the crown. The other running from something else entirely. And both completely convinced the other was trouble.

The guards had finally disappeared from sight, though the lingering tension in the water made it difficult to believe they were truly gone. For the better part of an hour they had been weaving through reefs and narrow channels, taking routes Seong would never have found on his own. By the time they reached a quieter stretch of open water, his muscles ached from exertion and his lungs burned from the constant bursts of speed, but at least the distant lantern lights had vanished.

Seong drifted toward a large rock formation and leaned against it with a dramatic sigh, attempting to recover what little dignity he still possessed after the latest chase.

"I think that was the closest they've gotten all week," he complained, pushing several strands of platinum hair from his face. "At one point I was completely convinced we were about to get caught. If that had happened, I hope you know I would've blamed you."

The accusation lacked any real heat behind it. After several days together, he had grown surprisingly accustomed to the outlaw's presence. The constant wariness that had defined their first meeting had softened into something far more comfortable, even if neither of them would have admitted it aloud. They weren't friends, exactly, but Seong had stopped expecting a knife in his back and started assuming the outlaw would be nearby whenever trouble appeared, which somehow felt equally strange.

As he adjusted his position, a sharp sting suddenly pulled across his side. The sensation wasn't particularly severe, but it was unexpected enough to make him pause mid-sentence.

His hand instinctively moved toward the source.

For a moment, he simply stared at the red smear coating his fingertips.

"...That can't be good."

His gaze slowly lowered.

The cut stretched along the side of his hip in a long, shallow line, clearly the result of brushing against coral during their escape. It wasn't deep enough to be dangerous and wasn't bleeding heavily, yet that knowledge did little to ease the growing sense of horror creeping up his spine. The injury looked far larger than anything he had ever received before, and the longer he stared at it, the larger it seemed to become.

Objectively, Seong understood that it was fine.

Objectively, he knew people suffered far worse injuries every day.

Objectively, he was not dying.

Unfortunately, none of those facts prevented the increasingly dramatic spiral taking place inside his head.

What if it scarred?

The thought arrived without warning and immediately refused to leave.

Not a tiny scar, either. Not one of those barely noticeable marks that disappeared beneath scales or faded after a few weeks. This one looked substantial. Permanent. The kind of scar that people pointed at when asking what happened. The kind that remained visible for years.

His expression remained carefully neutral.

Internally, however, he was already planning his funeral.

The outlaw's attention shifted toward him, and Seong reacted immediately by straightening his posture and folding his arms across his chest.

"It's fine," he announced.

The outlaw looked at the cut.

Then looked at him.

Seong felt his confidence falter almost instantly.

"It's completely fine," he corrected, speaking with the unmistakable tone of someone who was trying far too hard to sound unconcerned. "Honestly, I barely noticed it."

That part was technically true. He genuinely had no idea when it had happened. During the chase he had been too focused on not getting captured to pay attention to every scrape and bruise, and somewhere along the way a section of coral had apparently decided to take a personal offense to his existence.

Unfortunately, now that he had noticed the injury, it seemed impossible to ignore.

Every movement drew attention to it.

Every glance reminded him it was there.

Every passing second convinced him it looked worse than before.

"It doesn't even hurt," he added.

The sharp sting that followed felt almost insulting.

Seong's eye twitched.

"Much."