HASALYNX PRESS
Read Romance Ebooks Legally — Anytime, Online, With a Monthly Subscription

Chapter 1. Marble Steps and Aquarium Blue Light 

(Annie's POV)

The Grand Chosun Hotel rose from the Busan coastline like a monument to everything I wasn't—polished, untouchable, impossibly grand. I stood on the marble steps with my pink tote bag cutting into my shoulder and my mermaid tail in its custom carrying case weighing down my other arm, and I wondered if I'd made a terrible mistake. The humidity wrapped around me like wet cotton, plastering the baby hairs to my forehead despite the two minutes I'd spent in the air-conditioned taxi trying to tame them. I could already feel the freckles on my nose darkening, the English skin I'd inherited from my Cornish mother protesting against this Korean sun that never seemed to relent.

The lobby doors slid open with a breath of cool air, and I stepped into the kind of space that made me want to check my reflection in every polished surface. Marble floors stretched toward the reception desk like a frozen lake, so reflective I could see the blur of my own copper hair and the bright pink of my sundress in their depths. Crystal vases taller than me held lilies whose scent was so clean and white it almost hurt to breathe. And the aquarium—god, the aquarium.

It dominated the far wall, fifty feet of curved acrylic holding three hundred thousand liters of seawater that glowed with a bioluminescent blue I'd only ever seen in deep dives off the Cornish coast. Clownfish darted between staghorn coral like orange commas punctuating the water's sentences. A moray eel peered from its cave with ancient patience, and I pressed my free hand against the glass, feeling the warmth of the water through the acrylic, the faint vibration of the filtration system humming beneath my palm.

"You look like you're about to climb in."

The voice came from behind me, English with a Korean accent, warm as the water I was touching. I turned and found myself facing a man with hair the color of a tropical sea—teal blue, swept back from his forehead like he'd just come from swimming. His smile was crooked and immediate, the kind that made you forgive him for whatever he was about to do. He held a bundle of sketches under his arm, the edges curling slightly, and I noticed the faint coffee stains on their corners.

"Don't tempt me," I said, and my voice came out brighter than I'd intended, that automatic cheerfulness I'd perfected over two years of performing for crowds. "I've been known to make poor decisions when confronted with exceptional marine life."

He laughed, and it was infectious—loud and genuine, the kind of laugh that made people in the lobby turn their heads. "I'm Woo-jin," he said, and he shifted the sketches to extend his hand. "I'm supposed to be one of the mermen in your video. The one with the—" he gestured vaguely at his own hair, "—teal. Very important role. I make the water dance."

"Annie," I said, shaking his hand. His palm was warm and Delicate, the hand of someone who worked with his body. "And I'm the one who has to hold her breath for three minutes while you splash around looking pretty."

"Oppa," he corrected, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You should call me oppa. It's respectful. And also I like the sound of it."

"In your dreams, Woo-jin-ssi."

"Ah, you're already breaking my heart." He clutched his chest with theatrical drama, then flipped open the sketches in his arms. "But look—this is you. This is what we're making."

The drawings were incredible. Done in blue pencil and marker, they captured my mermaid form in poses I hadn't even practiced yet—diving into the infinity pool with my copper hair streaming behind me like fire, surfacing with water running down my face, reaching toward four silhouetted figures on a cliff's edge. The lines were confident and sweeping, the kind of sketches that felt alive even on paper.

"These are beautiful," I breathed, and I reached out to touch one, my finger hovering over the ink. "Who drew them?"

"Our storyboard artist. She's brilliant—she watched videos of your performances and fell in love." Woo-jin's hand brushed mine as he turned to another sketch, and I felt the contact like a spark jumping across the space between us. "This one's my favorite. The way you're looking at—" he paused, his eyes finding mine, "—well, it doesn't matter who you're looking at. It's just beautiful."

The air between us thickened, and I was suddenly aware of how close we were standing, of the faint salt-and-citrus scent of his cologne, of the way his hazel eyes seemed to hold the entire spectrum of the sea. I pulled my hand back and tucked a strand of copper hair behind my ear, the pearl clip my mother had given me catching the aquarium's blue light.

"So," I said, too brightly, "are the other mermen as charming as you, or do I need to prepare myself for a competition?"

"Annie-ssi," another voice cut in, and I turned to find a man approaching with the kind of quiet presence that made the air around him feel still. His hair was pink—soft and wavy, falling across his forehead in effortless waves that made me wonder how much product it took to achieve that level of casual perfection. He wore a cream linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a simple silver chain with a small pearl at his collarbone. "I'm Ju-won. The leader of this project. I wanted to introduce myself properly."

He bowed, and I returned it, my English awkwardness making the movement feel too stiff or too casual—I could never quite get the angle right. "Annie," I said. "The mermaid. Obviously."

"Obviously," he repeated, and there was a warmth in his honey-brown eyes that made me think he wasn't mocking me. "I've watched your performances at the aquarium. Your control underwater is exceptional. The production team was lucky to find you."

I felt my cheeks warm, the way they always did when someone praised my work. It still surprised me, after all this time, that strangers could value me so much. "Thank you," I managed. "I've been practicing since I was a kid. The cold water in Cornwall made me tough."

"Cornwall?" His eyebrows rose. "That's in the south of England, isn't it? By the sea?"

"Everywhere in England is by the sea if you're desperate enough to find it," I said, and he laughed—a low, melodic sound that made the lily-scented air feel suddenly warmer. "But yes. Cornwall. Grey skies, cold water, and enough pasties to feed a small army."

"Pasties?" Woo-jin leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine as he crowded the space between us. "What are pasties?"

"A Cornish delicacy. Basically a hand pie filled with meat and potatoes. Very practical for mining. And for avoiding emotional conversations."

Ju-won's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I think I'd like to try one. Though I suspect it's not as good as our grilled eel."

"Challenge accepted," I said. "You show me your eel, I'll show you my pasty."

Both men stared at me for a moment, and I realized exactly what I'd said. Woo-jin burst out laughing, his head thrown back, while Ju-won's smile turned slightly strained, as if he was fighting not to respond.

"That came out wrong," I said. "That came out very, very wrong. I mean—the food. The food. Obviously."

"Obviously," Ju-won repeated, and there was a note of something in his voice—something warm, something dangerous—that made my stomach flip.

"You have a very interesting way with words, Annie-ssi," Woo-jin said, wiping his eyes. "I think I'm going to enjoy working with you."

Before I could respond, another figure detached itself from the shadows near the aquarium. I hadn't noticed him before—he'd been standing so still, so intent on watching the fish, that he'd blended into the blue glow of the water. His hair was crimson, cut in a sharp undercut that made the color seem even more vivid, like dried blood catching the light. His eyes were dark and sharp, and they were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"That's Ha-jun," Ju-won said, his voice carefully neutral. "Our underwater performance consultant. He's from Busan originally—his mother was a haenyeo diver."

"A haenyeo?" I repeated, and I felt my professional curiosity override my discomfort. "The women who dive for abalone? I've read about them. They hold their breath for—"

"Three minutes," Ha-jun said. His voice was deep and gravelly, with a Busan accent that rounded his vowels and made his words feel heavier. "Like you. I watched your performance. You can hold for three minutes and twelve seconds."

"That's—" I blinked. "That's very specific. How did you—"

"I counted." He didn't smile. His eyes didn't leave mine. "I can hold for three minutes and forty-seven seconds. But you had more grace. The way you moved through the water—you made it look like you belonged there."

"Thank you," I said, and my voice came out smaller than I'd intended. Something about Ha-jun made me feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying, like he could reach past all the cheerful defenses I'd built and touch something I'd rather keep hidden.

"I'll be choreographing your underwater movements," he continued. "The director wants the footage to look natural. We can't afford mistakes. The water will be cold, and you'll be wearing the tail for extended periods. If you experience any discomfort, you tell me immediately."

"Understood," I said, and I nodded like I was taking orders from a superior officer, which I supposed I was. "I'll try not to drown."

"The infinity pool isn't deep enough to drown in," he said, and there was a flicker of something in his dark eyes—amusement, maybe, or something darker. "But if you need to be saved, I'll be there."

The words hung in the air between us, weighted with meaning I didn't want to examine. I turned back to the aquarium, pressing my hand against the warm acrylic, feeling the pulse of the filtration system through my palm. The clownfish darted past me, their orange bodies like tiny flames in the blue water.

"I'm glad we're all getting along so well," a voice said from behind me, and I turned to find the final member of their group approaching. His hair was pearl white, swept back like liquid silver, and he moved with the kind of theatrical confidence that said he'd been performing his whole life. His warm caramel skin glowed in the aquarium light, and his deep brown eyes held galaxies of amusement as they swept over me. "Though I suspect the competition is already beginning, yes? I can feel the tension from here."

"Chen," Woo-jin said, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. "You're late."

"Fashionably late," Chen corrected, and his accent was a smooth blend of Hong Kong and Seoul, the words rolling off his tongue like he'd rehearsed them. "I was choosing the perfect outfit. First impressions matter, and I wanted Annie-ssi to see me at my best."

He extended his hand, and I shook it, feeling the cool weight of a Cartier bracelet against my wrist. His palm was smooth and practiced, the hand of someone who'd never done manual labor in his life.

"I'm Chen," he said. "The visual. The face. The one who will make you look beautiful on screen."

"I already look beautiful on screen," I said, and his eyebrows rose with delighted surprise. "But thank you for the offer. I'll take all the help I can get."

"Ah, she's got teeth." Chen's smile widened, and he glanced at the other three men. "I like her. She's not like the others."

"The others?" I asked. "There are others?"

"Other collaborators. Guest performers. They always fall a little in love with me." He shrugged, a gesture that was meant to look modest but was anything but. "It's the accent. The hair. The way I look at them."

"The way you look at everyone is exactly the same," Ju-won said flatly. "It's your default expression."

"My default expression is devastatingly handsome," Chen corrected, and he turned his gaze on me, full force. It was like being hit with a spotlight—warm, blinding, impossible to look away from. "But with Annie-ssi, I can tell it's different. There's something about her."

I felt the weight of their attention pressing on me from all sides. Woo-jin's warmth, Ju-won's steadiness, Ha-jun's intensity, Chen's theatrical charm—four different kinds of gravity pulling me in four different directions. I'd come to Korea looking for adventure, for escape, for something that would make me forget the grey skies of Cornwall and the boy who'd treated me like an afterthought. I hadn't expected to be the center of a constellation.

"Should we head to the production office?" I asked, too brightly, my voice echoing off the marble floors. "I'm sure the director wants to review the schedule."

"Yes," Ju-won said, and he stepped forward to lead the way. "I'll take you. Woo-jin, can you—"

"I'll walk with her," Woo-jin said, and he fell into step beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. "I want to show her the other sketches. The ones of the ending sequence."

"We haven't approved the ending sequence yet," Ju-won said, and his voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the tension beneath the words. "That's still under review."

"Then I'll show her the beginning sequence," Woo-jin said, and he smiled at me like we were sharing a secret. "The part where the merman finds her in the water. That's my scene, you know. I'm the one who discovers her."

"You're the one who splashes around pretending to be a current," Chen said from behind us. "I'm the one who carries her to the coral palace. That's the heroic moment."

"You carry her for two seconds," Woo-jin said. "Then you drop her."

"I don't drop her. I place her carefully. There's a difference."

"The difference is a dolly track and a crane shot," Ha-jun said, and his voice cut through their bickering like a blade. "Which none of you will be using during the underwater sequences. That's my domain."

I walked between them, my pink tote bag bumping against my hip, my mermaid tail case swinging with each step. Four men. Four different kinds of attention. Four reasons to feel overwhelmed.

I'd come to Korea to escape, to find something new, to prove that I wasn't just the girl who'd been cheated on and left behind. I'd found a job I loved, a city that felt more like home than Cornwall ever had, and a life that was mine, entirely mine.

And now these four men were looking at me like I was the most interesting thing they'd ever seen.

The aquarium's blue light spilled across the marble floor as we walked, and I glanced back at the coral reef one last time. The clownfish darted between the branches, their movements fluid and purposeless, and I felt a pang of envy. They didn't have to choose. They didn't have to wonder what happened when the other shoe dropped.

They just swam.

I turned away from the glass and followed the men toward the production office, my heartbeat a little faster than it should have been.