Her beauty was captivating—loud as the clamor of life, yet terrifying as the silence of death.
She was the one who stood upon the fragile line that divided them both.
"I wonder… which one are you?"
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There—between two shades of blue: the blue of the sea and the blue of its sky—between the intoxicating scent of salt and the echoing rhythm of footsteps—
A ship drifted in the heart of the unknown.
Its crew moved back and forth, each absorbed in his own task beneath the cries of seagulls overhead.
A dark-skinned sailor wrestled the billowing sail into submission. Nearby, a sharp-eyed man scrubbed the deck with rhythmic aggression.
And above them all, one stood upon the mast, scouting the horizon.
The only sound was the wind, until a heavy pair of boots echoed from the cabin, shattering the crew's focused silence.
A slender man stepped out—so lean one might mistake him, from afar, for frail.
He bore green eyes, sharp in gaze, with blond hair and a face carved with a measure of sternness.
Moments later, another man followed.
Similar in build, yet auburn-haired, with honey-colored eyes and an air of indifference draped across his features.
The first lifted his gaze and called out to the one atop the mast, his calm voice contrasting the raging crash of waves against the ship:
"Hey, Hawk… do you see our desired target?"
Hawk raised his head toward the sky before answering at once, unable to conceal the burning excitement in his voice:
"Yes, Captain. The target is within sight… and it sails exactly along the course we anticipated."
A lazy smile crept upon the captain's lips as he murmured a single word:
"Good."
He turned on his heel to face his crew, then stepped forward, his voice booming:
"Move! Each of you, take your positions. The real work begins now. And remember—any mistake will earn you a one-way trip into the merciless depths of the sea."
He spoke with a sly, mocking smile—
one that quickly spread among them.
They were long accustomed to such speeches from their captain—
the man who refused anything less than dragging them, step by step, toward the very peak.
For this was the Siren Ship—
not named for beauty, but for the cunning of those aboard it.
They seized their spoils, lured you into believing you had won…
then vanished like a legend, leaving behind nothing but the bitter realization—
that you had been deceived.
After his words, he turned his back to them and headed toward his cabin, leaving one final command:
"Max, take the helm from the rear… and steer our ship toward that cave."
He issued his order, and the auburn-haired man followed without hesitation.
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The moment the man with forest-green eyes entered the private quarters, her companion spoke in a voice meant for her alone:
"So… do you truly expect me to believe you? That your target is the Agate Ship?"
He raised—no, rather—she raised her fiery brows as she removed her headgear, letting her tresses fall freely—strands colored like the earth itself.
Then she met her companion's gaze with eyes that had claimed the very hue of her homeland's trees.
" No.
I do not merely seek it… I seek him,"
she murmured, her voice losing its forced grit.
"The one the night sky cast away—the fallen star of its own delight. Do you think I would set my sights upon anything lesser?"
She spoke, her face glowing with a soft warmth at the mention of him, while her gaze shimmered with a dangerous cunning—as though she were gambling for the world's most precious prize.
A sigh of weary resignation escaped the honey-eyed woman. What had Shelia to do with the madness of this woman—a woman whose true identity remained a secret to the world...
Yet she was great enough for fingertips to begin, even now, carving her legend into history.