Under the shroud of night, the group hauled their treasures from the seabed onto the deck, their haul modest despite the wealth below. Some of the gold nuggets were massive, far too heavy to carry, so they settled for smaller portions of gold, jewelry, and the peculiar golden mask.
The mask was an unsettling marvel—a ruby glinted from its forehead, while two silver hands jutted from either side, their delicate fingers frozen in an unnatural pose.
One of the group held it up, admiring its craftsmanship. “Incredible. If I gave this to my father, he’d probably never stop smiling.”
Another chuckled. “Funny, I’ve been hearing more stories about people finding treasure in the sea lately. Thought it was just tall tales.”
“Same here,” another chimed in. “It sounded like one of those urban myths.”
“But if shipwrecks like this are real, why hasn’t anyone found them? We’re in shallow waters, for crying out loud. With all the boats passing through, how’s this still undiscovered?”
“Maybe everyone else is blind?” someone quipped, drawing laughter.
“Blind or not, doesn’t it seem weird?” another said, growing serious. “It’s almost like… these treasures weren’t here until recently.”
The conversation drifted on as they examined the gold. A girl picked up a nugget, turning it over in her hands. Suddenly, she screamed, dropping it to the deck.
“What happened?” someone exclaimed, rushing to her.
“That gold… It—it looks like—” she stammered, pale as the moonlight reflecting off the sea.
“Bones, right?” a man interrupted, grimacing. “Human bones and limbs.”
“Relax,” another said with a shrug. “Probably just fell off some ancient statue.”
“If that’s true, the craftsmanship on that statue must’ve been insane,” someone murmured in awe. “Imagine carving gold so finely you could make veins, skin, even individual hairs look real. If this were centuries ago, it’d be unimaginable.”
“Shame it’s not intact,” said another wistfully. “If it were, it’d be priceless.”
“Eh, don’t overthink it,” someone else said, waving dismissively. “We’re here for fun, not treasure hunting. Besides, I’ve already called dibs on the mask!”
“You can have it,” a man muttered. “I don’t want anything to do with stuff tied to dead people.”
“Alright, enough chatter. Divide it up and let’s get some sleep,” another said, stifling a yawn.
The group split their haul, each retreating to their cabins.
---
Hours later, the tranquility of the night shattered with a piercing scream.
The sound jolted the group awake. They stumbled out of their rooms, confusion etched on their faces.
“Did you hear that?” someone asked, rubbing sleep from their eyes.
“Sounded like it came from Lao Kim’s room,” another answered.
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“Probably just him having a wild night,” one muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, bet it’s another one of his ‘statues,’” someone else joked. “Guy changes partners more than I change socks.”
“Should we check on him?” a girl asked hesitantly.
“What for?” a man said dismissively. “Let him have his fun. Go back to sleep.”
As they began to disperse, the door to Lao Kim’s cabin creaked open.
The group froze.
A man emerged, the golden mask gleaming on his face.
“No way,” one of them whispered. “Weren’t you saving that for your dad? Why are you wearing it?”
The masked figure stepped forward, silent and deliberate. His eyes glowed a haunting gold, their light sharp and unnatural.
Before anyone could react, he lunged. His hand shot out and clamped onto someone’s face with terrifying strength.
“Damn it, what are you doing?”
“I—”
Crack!
Before the man could finish his sentence, his body began to shimmer and harden. Gold crept over him like an unstoppable tide, transforming flesh and blood into an exquisite golden statue in mere moments.
The group froze in collective horror, paralyzed by the sight.
The man wearing the golden mask turned his glowing gaze on them. His slow, deliberate movements sent terror rippling through the room. One of the crew dropped to his knees, trembling. “Lao Kim, don’t… please don’t!!”
Crack!
Another man wasted no time. Spinning on his heel, he bolted from the room without looking back. His feet pounded the deck as he fled, the sound of his panicked breathing drowning out the crashing waves.
When he burst onto the deck, the vast, open ocean stretched before him. The moonlit sea offered no sanctuary, but he had no choice.
Behind him, footsteps approached—calm, unhurried, and eerily deliberate.
“No!” he gasped, his voice breaking as he clenched his fists.
Without hesitation, he dove overboard, the cold embrace of the sea swallowing him whole.
Whumph!
The man wearing the golden mask halted at the edge of the deck, his cold, glowing eyes narrowing as he watched the rippling surface. Without a word, he turned and vanished back into the cabin.
---
Moments later, the man resurfaced, gasping for air. He clung to life with every desperate breath, his eyes fixated on the receding silhouette of the ship.
“Turning people into gold… What kind of nightmare is this?”
The vastness of the sea pressed in around him, a suffocating reminder of his predicament. Escape from the ship had been a gamble, but now the reality of his situation set in. There were no boats, no nearby land, no rescue in sight.
Exhaustion clawed at him, and despair began to take hold.
Two outcomes awaited him now. He would either drown from fatigue or drown outright.
The man cursed under his breath. "It’s over… I’m done for…"
Just as his strength began to wane, his eyes caught sight of something in the distance—a shadow against the moonlight. A reef.
And sitting atop it, a thin figure. They seemed to be drying themselves off.
“What… is that? A person?”
Hope rekindled in his chest. He kicked toward the reef with all the strength he had left. But his battered body betrayed him. A sharp cramp seized his leg, and he sank beneath the surface, the icy water stealing his breath.
“Help…” His voice was a desperate gurgle as he flailed, his vision blurring.
Swish!
In a flash, a figure sliced through the water with impossible speed. A hand gripped his, firm and unyielding, pulling him back to the surface.
Gasping, the man was hauled onto the reef. He collapsed onto the jagged surface, coughing violently as seawater poured from his mouth and nose.
Finally catching his breath, he looked up—and his blood ran cold.
A girl with a fishtail, shimmering scales, and long green hair sat before him, her eyes glinting with a strange light.
“A mermaid…?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The girl tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint smile.
“First, people turn to gold. Now mermaids? What’s wrong with this world?”
The man awkwardly raised a hand in a weak wave. “You… okay?”
The mermaid girl pressed a finger to her lips, silencing him.
“Shhh,” she whispered.
“They’re coming.”
“They?” he began, but his question died in his throat.
The water around the reef churned violently. Dozens of glowing orange eyes emerged from the darkness, their light cutting through the gloom like fireflies in the abyss.
In moments, Fish-Men rose from the waves, their grotesque forms gleaming under the moonlight.
Leading them was a regal figure, feminine yet distinctly inhuman. She carried a scepter of coral and moved with an air of authority.
The regal Fish-Woman approached the mermaid and bowed deeply.
“The Sea King invites you, Siren,” she said, her voice echoing like the call of the tides.