If you asked the people of the Onyx Isles what they knew of Pirate Captain Kyungsoo, they would probably just laugh at you.

Inhabitants of the southernmost isle only knew one Kyungsoo, and that young man was far too mild-mannered to be a pirate.

He’d arrived recently, true, with a partner in tow. Retired explorers, they had said, leading them to far off lands and dangerous escapades. But not pirates, never pirates. That would be absolutely absurd.

If you asked the people of the Onyx Isles what they knew of their Kyungsoo, they would likely tell you of his budding friendship with the local post carrier, sending and receiving dozens and dozens of letters postmarked from the Opal Coast. They would tell you of his childlike curiosity, eager to learn the customs of the islands, their folk songs, their mannerisms, as though it were all buried inside him and waiting to be uncovered. They would tell you of the way he and his partner would regale the island’s children with tales of their adventures. They would tell you of his visits to the local jeweller, lover in tow, and his meetings with the man’s family. (Why the jeweller, nobody could be sure, though both boys seemed to have a liking for gems.)

The people of the Onyx Isles could tell you many things about Kyungsoo. The bakers could tell you of his sweet tooth; the carpenters of his taste for dark woods, the neighbours of his singing voice, heard often as the pair would walk along the coast at night.

Something that everybody on the isles could tell you, though, was that Kyungsoo and Jongin were hopelessly, endlessly, in love.

And they were happy.