Shinichirou
He thinks that one hour’s passed, but not very so, as he doesn’t see or hear any abnormal rumble from the castle, which is towering right behind him. It remains quiet and intimidating as it was when Shinichirou left. Normally at this time, if they noticed his disappearance, there should be the bell ringing and people scattering all over, stirring the same commotion they did when he almost drowned.
The fact that he’s still out there with his only companion being the ocean, the wind, and some random seagulls here and there, suggests that nobody realizes he is missing yet, meaning his one hour is probably not over. How many of them are left, he doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. The precious freedom is still in his hand, although Shinichirou can feel disappointment building up inside him as the realization sinks in, that he may not be the best at using time effectively.
He’s been scouting around the rocks and the coast, even daring to go a bit in the water. The current isn’t exactly treacherous, enough for him to walk through if he’s careful. But Shinichirou doesn’t want to try his luck by going anywhere further than the furthest rock to the sea, where he’ll have nowhere to grab on provided the water suddenly grows faster.
Drowning, as charming as it seems, isn’t Shinichirou’s priority. As much as he’s aware that’s how he first came into contact with the merman, it doesn’t guarantee success and will even bite him in the ass if he isn’t careful. Nobody will notice his absence, nobody will come to the rescue. If the merman isn’t there, he’ll be dead for the dumbest reason ever.
Shinichirou’s decided to make it his last resort, the method of desperation after he’s maxed out the possibility of everything else.
He can see now, that there aren’t too many of everything else for him to consider. He never kept his eyes off the shore for long enough to miss any bypassers, so far the only people he’s seen are the old lady and her intriguing passenger. It doesn’t matter if he missed anyone else, still, as it’s very unlikely for a merman to walk on the sand.
That leaves the rocks for him to find, and, of course, deeper in the ocean. Shinichirou had a stronger belief in the rock, and he could see it going lower and lower by the minute. The only reason that kept it up was that if the merman put him on the flat rock there, it should only be possible that he would come again to either check on the person he’s saved or simply watch over the world of humans.
Shinichirou sighs, feeling the logic bite him with its sharp fangs. Why on Earth would a merman go back to check on him after he was saved and brought inside the castle? And why should a merman be interested in the world of humans in the first place? For all he knows, the merman probably has the whole ocean full of colors to explore, the tedious castle to him would be no more than some pathetic doodles.
And there isn’t any connection between them, at least none serious enough for the merman to come back. It pains Shinichirou to face the truth, and yet the truth is unfolding itself in front of him, forcing him to look at it. The wind is swooshing around him, reverberating a hollow in his heart. It reminds him of his lonely existence, his sundae of solitude, topped with fine sprinkles of desperation.
The merman may even have a promising and colorful life, and even if he doesn’t, any kind of life not resembling Shinichirou is worth living a thousand times more than his. Shinichirou is nothing to him other than some random pitiable dude who didn’t know how to use a boat, whose face he may have already forgotten, whose name he may never bother to know, and whose existence should soon be blurred among the thousands of wonders his promising life has to offer.
The thought sinks in, marinating his furious head, making Shinichirou panic for a few seconds. He doesn’t know exactly how long, but he can feel the alarm in his head ring, reminding him of the short time he has left. He stands up and splashes some water on his face in an attempt to chase away the horrible thought.
It can be likely, but it’s still just his assumption, and assumption sometimes leads to horrible misunderstanding. And what if the merman forgets him or doesn’t think of Shinichirou as anything significant? Shinichirou has to find him and show him that he’s, despite being a spoiled prince who almost drowned, who knows nothing including his own father’s heritage and his duty as a future king, someone that’s worth being reminded of, even occasionally, even rarely.
With that in mind, Shinichirou looks at the deep sea. A desperate situation calls for a desperate solution, and with his clock ticking, Shinichirou knows that it’s time to go down with the desperate and pray for the worst not to come.
He turns around and looks at the castle again, smiling at it. It’s the right move, after all. He’s about to take the risk of almost drowning again, in the hope that his savior will cross paths with him again and save him again, and it’s only reasonable to look at the place he reluctantly calls home for his whole life, despite it never being an actual home, but more of a temporary shelter, again.
It’s funny to see the place he hates so much become seemingly friendlier in that instance. Shinichirou breathes in the ocean air and is about to turn away when something shows up at the peripheral corner of his eyes.
He turns around and rubs his eyes, once, then twice. He blinks and stares at the castle. Something about it doesn’t seem right. He used to look at it with hatred and a lot of hatred, rage and a lot more of rage, and discomfort, knowing its walls were too mossy and old, the oak tree isn't fitting in with everything else in the background, the towers are uneven, the flags never fly in the same rhythm as they should, the roofs are washed off by the touch of time, and–
Wait.
The towers aren’t even.
The towers don’t stand the same height, as his father destroyed the Eastern tower in one of his attacks. It’s a fact that’s mentioned constantly in the palace, something he doesn’t want to know but can’t help knowing. The castle always looks strange then, with one of the most major parts staying a total ruin, leaving a space that should be filled to keep the structure.
People haven’t rebuilt the broken tower, and they have reasons. It's the symbol of the king's wise decision on the spot, which led to his victory and position on the most uncomfortable chair in the whole kingdom. There's also plenty of space in the castle for its modest number of residents – the king and queen aren't the best at keeping alive people around – another tower would only mean more sets of unoccupied rooms to clean and fewer people managing it. Rebuilding it seems like a huge spending compared to their drained budget, either due to the war, its aftermath, or the king’s greed.
But now the tower is there. There are four towers, the Eastern one included, and they all stand at the same height.
Shinichirou can feel terror running in his veins as he sees the castle’s structure going back to balance. There's no probable answer for that. The tower has always been damaged, it stayed damaged the last time he looked at it, which was roughly less than an hour ago, there’s no reason, need, budget, time, or possibility to renovate it. And yet it's there now, fresh as others as if his father’s attack never happened.
Shinichirou is torn, frozen on his spot, his mind is an empty mess, filled with wordless questions. He doesn't know what to think or even ask. Half of his heart stays in the sea, among the roaring waves and the wind, trying to sink deeper, reaching the depth where the merman is. The other is trying to barge out of his ribcage, like a monster wanting to break its locked-up cell, sprinting toward to castle to figure out what the fuck just happened to the goddamn place he called his home.
“I daresay you’ve seen it now,” a soft voice grows behind Shinichirou, light as the sea breeze, stark and intimidating as the sudden fourth tower. But no one can be there. He’s standing on the furthest rock to the direction of the sea, behind him is the water and the waves, deep and strong enough to sink a person and erase everything about their existence.
Still, she’s there, and as Shinichirou turns to face her, he sees her float on the sea’s surface, her fins buoyant vaguely among the chaotic current. Realization slowly takes over. Of course, she has to be one of them, to know about and talk with that certainty about the merpeople.
“What is this?” Shinichirou grits his teeth and asks. “What happened?”
“I asked for an hour,” she smiles, “you gave me one. You never picked, however, so I dare to pick myself. You told me I could take whatever I want, remember?”
Shinichirou glares at her. “And what did you take?”
“One hour is all it takes for your father to gain the throne.” She chuckles, letting the current drag her further from Shinichirou, closer to the deep sea below. “One hour is all it takes for him to be the king. It’s amazing how much difference an hour could make.”
Shinichirou bites his lips. “You took that hour when my father decided to attack the Eastern tower.” He says. “It’s the critical moment to win the war.”
“To win the war. To write history. History is a lie written by the winners, didn’t you say it yourself,” the woman laughs, her face becoming disfigured as the laughter merges into a terrifying squeal. “If he didn’t attack the Eastern tower, he'd have lost. And if he lost, he’d be a traitor. We all know what happens to traitors. Off with his head.”
Shinichirou hears her words, feeling every one of them engulf him in a harsh grip.
“But there’s more to it, Your Highness,” the tutor stops laughing and peers at him playfully. “And this is the fun part.”
“No,” Shinichirou shouts at her. He knows what she means.
“The family of the traitor wouldn’t live. Even a baby, fresh out of the womb,” the laugh returns, this time more sinister, more satisfying. “Your Highness, you were also killed in that. See how much one hour changes?” She pauses, as if letting her words cut him harder, “meaning that the you at present never exists.”

Seul
My dear prince, if you’re reading it, I hope you enjoy our contract.
Seul is running. He remembers hearing the old lady scream as he stormed out of the house, but she’s no match for his strength. His legs are clumsy, but there was a strange surge of power that fueled them up, helping them stand and carry his body. He doesn’t know how long he’s gone along the shore on the old lady’s cart, but he has to get back there as soon as possible.
You’re a smart young man, you’ll know how to solve this little puzzle, so here I am showing you my admiration.
Seul should have trusted his instinct. He’s been listening to it for his whole life, he’s made stupid decisions at the call of it. For once, he ignored its always urgent, over-dramatic voice and focused on his logical sense, because it seemed like the only right thing to do. He had to stay awake and alert to the tricky conditions of the contract. Ironically, it was his sober state that bit him in the neck.
You’ll lose your voice once you sign the contract, it’s ironic, isn’t it? But what is life, if not the never-ending trail of irony, one after another?
If there’s anything Seul agrees with the manic woman, it’s that life is ironic. He’s crossed paths with the man who started it all, and he missed it like an idiot. An idiot who is paying the hard price for his negligence.
You can find your voice again if you find the person you saved from drowning. A word from him then you’ll have your voice back. It can’t be easier.
But she made it harder, and now he can hear her mocking tone in his head. Every part of this stupid game is her doing, and Seul should have seen it coming earlier. The fact that he never remembered the face of the man he’d saved, the coincidence that she found a drowning man at that very moment to warn Seul, the cluster of rocks she suggested.
Seul is someone who knows how to play games. His caution helps him stay conscious of foul plays and never backfire. But she uses it against him. Seul finally meets his match.
And I do hope fate is on your side because he’ll be the first man you'll ever see once you’re on land.
Don’t miss him.
Seul is running, dashing, stumbling, and cursing as he falls and stands up again. His legs are clumsy and keep slipping on the sand, but he doesn’t care. He’s in a hurry, and he needs to speed up. There’s no more time for overthinking. He bites his lips and aims ahead, his eyes stay open as he sees the castle looming into sight again.

Seul and Shinichirou
Seul stops at the rocks, panting, and sees a figure in front of him. Longingness fills his vision, but Seul forces it to stay afloat. His eyes widen as he moves closer, his ears are filled with the howling of the wind, his skin is crispy from the salty air, and his heart is jumping high enough to clench his throat.
Shinichirou turns around as he senses the presence causing a tinge at the back of his head. He doesn’t know who it is, but the moment their eyes meet, he’s taken aback to see the strange guy on the back of the old lady’s cart. A part of his head doesn’t know why he’s here, all of a sudden, but a missing beat of his heart seems to have the answer.
He’s there. The man Seul saved, the same man in the painting, he’s there. Seul knows it the moment he sees the man’s face, his figure, his hair. He doesn’t know why he didn’t notice or realize the resemblance before, or how he could have let such a man slip from his memory. Probably due to the wicked spell. But it doesn’t matter.
He’s there. The man Shinichirou had been longing for, the same man that fueled his desire to put his life – and everyone else’s but he didn’t know it better then – on the edge, he’s there. Shinichirou knows it the moment he sees his face again, his figure, his hair, the moment his mind finally made an association of a fishtail to his trembling legs and found out it makes perfect sense. He’s the merman, and he’s the only thing that matters.
Seul gulps as his feet drag him closer, climbing on the rocks and the sea waves, carefully not to slip into the grasp of the waves. It doesn’t matter if there was foul play before, now that Seul met the man of his dreams, also the man who started all of this peculiar adventure. His desire for the Earth, once hidden and repressed, now emerging and soaring, all thanks to him.
Shinichirou stands where he is as the merman walks closer to him. He’s trembling and stumbling, but he’s getting used to the legs. Shinichirou smiles at him. All of this has been foul play, a nightmare that ends with guilt and agony, and all of it suddenly doesn’t matter. Shinichirou can finally meet the only being in this cruel world that makes his life worth living, also the one that urges him to put an end – a quite majestic end – to all of it. His desire for life, once withering and almost ceasing to exist, now blooms again, on the verge of everything-being-too-late.
Seul reaches over, finding himself closer to the man. He’s standing there quietly, his eyes glued on Seul, his mouth ajar as if he still didn’t believe in any of this, his body slightly shaking within the gusts of wind. He’s probably full of thought, he’s probably not paying attention to his surroundings. But he’s within reach, and Seul can’t wait to feel him.
Shinichirou stands still as the merman leans over, smiling bitterly, knowing what happens as they meet. The merman is too late, but Shinichirou’s glad he came at all. His eyes are a vastness of black, darker than the night, his hair resembles an obsidian cloak. He’s probably full of surprise, he’s probably having a hectic story behind all of this madness and shifting from tail to legs. But he’s within reach, and Shinichirou hears his heart weep, knowing he can never feel him.
As Seul’s hand grabs into thin air, he blinks, feeling a tinge at the back of his head. He’s sure that the man’s at arm’s length, but somehow he doesn’t manage to catch him.
Shinichirou smiles again, then shakes his head.
Seul opens his mouth, only to be struck again by the despair that his voice isn’t there to assist. He tries to reach the arms up again, stretching forward. His hand slides into the air again, even though they’re roughly one hand apart from each other. The man’s body is like murky water, now that Seul suddenly realizes he can see through it. It’s not transparent, but it isn’t opaque, as a normal body should look. Seul retrieves his hands, feeling sorrow creeping up his spine. The man smiles at him and speaks.
“Don’t,” is what Shinichirou says. He isn’t sure if the word reaches the merman, now that he’s a nonexistent individual. Still, he feels the urge to blurt out. Still, he has to say something. It’s impolite to remain silent with the person to whom he owes his whole life.
“Don’t,” Seul finds his mouth moving, and with it, his voice escapes. “Don’t,” he repeats, “don’t go!”
The sea never feels that cold, as the wave looms up, taking whatever is left of Shinichirou’s body within its firm grasp, snatching him off from the rocks. At one second, he can still feel the sturdy surface under his feet, and then the next thing he knows is that he’s quivering helplessly under the water, his feet flung into nothingness.
Seul leaps ahead, then stops at the edge of the rock, trying to maintain his balance. He leans back and falls on his heels, his eyes watching with sorrow and terror. Everything happened too fast, and yet his mind keeps the perfect trace of the events. He meets the man he’s saved, and he almost touches him, only to find out that he’s out of reach, and now he’s watching the man die again, ironically in the same way as Seul once prevented it from happening.
Seul can feel his body tilting to the roaring ocean and the hollering waves. The man’s face floating among them, his eyes tearing the crispy air, his smile burning the fingertips of Seul’s hand as he reaches them forward, again gripping into nothingness. Another wave comes up, pulling the man down again, this time forever, into the cruel grip of the deep below.
He wants to save the man, he really does, but he can’t go back to the sea.
He’s exchanged the only ability to save his life for a day out of the ocean.
Shinichirou breathes in and finds out with amusement that his nonexistent body can still feel. His lungs are filled with water now, the excruciating pain is running up through it, making it want to blast. His eyes are hazy, his ears are deafened by the waves' roar, and yet for some reason, he’s conscious. If it’s the perk of living the last seconds of a life that no longer exists, then Shinichirou regrets not giving up his very existing life earlier.
He peers again, trying to make it through the blurry water, the silhouette of the merman his heart barged out of his chest for. He can vaguely see him (or he thinks so, now that the line between reality and derangement is erased) reaching down, his fingers scattering through the water’s surface.
The merman who saved him then can no longer save him now.