Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.
Once upon a time, there lived a tale among men, witnessed by anonymous witnesses, whispered to each other, heard from ear to ear, and passed down from generation to generation. Every land has a story—a history. Who were the people who walked these lands long, long ago, before our fathers or those who came before them? No one could be certain of the truth behind this particular tale, and yet the myth persisted and continued to be spread all the same.
Every land has a story, and for the now-modern Blue Lagoon, its own lies dormant within every roll of the waves.
The first to witness it was a fisherman. Initially, his friends believed that he had gone mad, thinking that perhaps the salt water had come to him and affected his brain function, causing him to see things that weren't there. Nevertheless, one fisherman soon grew into two, then three, and eventually enough to share their testimonies. Sightings of "fish" the size and length of humans in open waters.
"Cease this foolish babble! This is the boundless sea before us; what do you expect? Instead of speaking folly, you ought to catch the fish! If it be of such size as it proclaims, surely it will yield great profit," the wives exclaim whenever their husbands begin to speak.
“But, it is not a fish, my heart!” they would always reply, sweat dripping from their faces.
A new argument began, even before dinner. The man vehemently insisted that was not a fish; it couldn't possibly be a fish. Whatever it was… its upper body looked incredibly human, with ten fingers and an unparalleled beauty bestowed upon them by the gods. With their powerful fins, the creature was effortlessly gliding through the dark ocean. The woman, however, refused to believe him, dismissing it as nothing more than the ramblings of drunken men and their wild imaginations. She told him to stop drinking and come straight home after sunset.
And they obeyed. Their wives' words were taken as literal gospel, and whenever their shadows lengthened toward the east, the fishermen hurriedly packed their nets and hooks. The boats were securely bound before they ran and did not look back.
But what good are fathers without their sons? For without children, who is more determined and courageous than they are? People say that a man needs his friends if they are to survive in this world, and that is exactly what the sons did. They learned from the wisdom of their forefathers, who knew better, before carefully slipping away to avoid the worried chatter of their mothers. Then, they ventured far from the "safe" waters.
On their first night of sailing, there was nothing but the ocean's icy night breeze—the threat of hypothermia proving even greater than the mythical tales of the "fish creature." They grumbled as the boat bobbed on the rising tide; the orange of the lanterns illuminated their disappointed faces. The tales of the fish men were absent on the first night.
When the second night came, however, one of the four boys saw it. Shouting loudly, he pointed his index finger at the silver moon on the horizon. “I see it!” he shouted in panic, arousing the curiosity of his peers.
"What?! What did you see?!"
“The creature, the one of which the elders have whispered! It is real, I tell you!”
Unconvinced, one lifted the lantern by the handle, leaned over the edge, and shone the light across the dark blue. Another held him, making sure his grip was tight to ensure that his friend wouldn't accidentally fall overboard. They were about to call out the first shouter’s wild “imagination” until they caught sight of it: the creature itself.
Fins. Long and large, each scale glistening in the pale glow of the moon. The young men backed away as the mysterious creature flicked the tip of its tail, the drops of cold seawater touching their faces bringing a sense of realization.
That they are dealing with the unknown.
As the boat rocked once more, a sudden, ominous sound echoed from beneath the waves—the distinct thud of something striking the wooden hull. They fell silent, holding on to the edge of the boat to maintain their footing. Frightened glances were exchanged as they asked telepathically, What now?
“I wish to return home,” one of the boys said, trembling. “This is madness! We should not have ventured out here!”
"And miss the chance to lay eyes upon this creature? Nay, we've come too far to turn back now, so I say we stay and witness this with our own eyes!" The blonde-haired one turned to another of their group. “Do you still have the spear I asked you to bring?”
The boy in question nodded. Without a moment of hesitation, he reached down and grabbed the sharp weapon, tossing it to his friend to hold.
“Excellent!” the brave one exclaimed as he successfully caught the spear. “Then you, Ademar, turn the boat around, and I shall throw this at the creature once it shows itself again.”
“But what if it does not show itself? What if it flips the boat and drowns us as it has done to the other sailors?!”
The brave youth scoffed, "We are all the sons of fishermen! We know how to swim, do we not? Don't tell me you'll cower in fear over some giant fish?"
“Nay, ‘tis no mere fish, but a witch! A sea witch! We should return to the shore at once!”
Gritting his teeth, the boy turned to his friends, who had lost both their earlier vigor and courage. "Then swim away, you cowards! If you lack the courage to face this creature, then you should not have joined us in the first place!"
The rest of the group had been reluctant, but there was little else to do in the middle of the open ocean—as the sons of fishermen, they knew this. The sea was revered for its vastness and depth. With few options available, they resignedly started rowing the boat, their oars cutting through the water with a steady rhythm. The brave boy stood tall in the center like a triumphant hero, spear in hand, sharp gaze scanning the pitch-black ocean for any sign of the creature.
“Keep your eyes peeled, my friends.”
The boat fell silent, the only sound the harsh lapping of the waves against the wooden hull. Almost everyone held their breath.
Suddenly, a movement caught the attention of the brave boy, and without hesitation, he hurled the spear with all his might—the creature plunged back into the water. Full of confidence, the boy announced that he had it—he had the sea legend right where he wanted it.
“Did it hit?!” one of them asked, voice shaking with adrenaline.
In response, he reached out his hand. “The lantern, quickly!” He accepted it and carried the flickering light over the surface of the waves. The water was cloudy with the unmistakable hue of blood. A victorious smile stretched across the young boy's face. "We have struck it! Quickly, fetch the net! We must retrieve our prize!"
However, the second the net touched the water, human negligence and arrogance were exposed.
The feeling of victory was short-lived and vanished in an instant as he locked eyes with the emerging head of the creature. Under the indifferent moonlight, there is no mistaking the fury on its physiognomy. Gasping in horror, the boy stumbled backwards, his feet slipping as he tried to retreat further into the boat. But he realized fact by fact that their tiny little boat was now surrounded.
By not one, but four of the creatures.
Such an encounter, this is. Two different beings, crossing paths because of the same curiosity. Ending in the same bloodshed. This is, the tale of “mere maids,” “sirens,” or “merfolk.” And also their “victims”—
“You actually believe that crap?”
In an amused tone, Ajax asked his manager, who was driving them through the winding roads of Blue Lagoon – the place he was learning to call home after moving out of Beverly Hills. The midday sun shone high above their heads, but the cold sea wind blew their sweat away.
"About how a whole bunch of kids got drowned by some mermaids? Actually, yeah! The old lady at the bakery won't stop going on about it. Says it's the honest-to-god truth." Cleo said, turning the steering wheel as they reached another turn and headed towards a tunnel.
“You have to stop talking to strangers.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t just move here and not know the local legends. That’s like, the lamest way to live.”
Ajax chuckled. “Well, I’m not here for those. I just wanted some peace and quiet.”
The brown-haired young man rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, ‘peace and quiet’ after a nasty breakup from your girlfriend of eight years. Come on, Jax, you can’t act like you’re not a little hurt by all that.”
Combing through his ginger-colored hair, Ajax shrugged. “Not really.”
“Seriously?”
“It was just bound to happen.”
“That’s what you always say. Damn, now I’m starting to think maybe you’re the problem after all,” Cleo scoffed, glancing at Ajax for a split second before returning to the road. “It felt like you were always just waiting for things to fall apart. Like you’ve got zero faith in the whole thing working out from the start. When Meredith came along, I really thought she was different—that this time, you'd finally pop the question to her. But then she went and cheated, and instead of hurting you, it seemed like it gave you a way out."
Ajax turned away, staring out at the distant seascape, pretending to admire the view. He wondered if it were that obvious to other people or if it was simply Cleo's sharp observation and their fifteen-year history as artist and assistant. It wasn't like he was interested in feeling this peculiar sense of detachment—to have one foot in and one foot out, expecting the fallout even when he was just starting. Exactly what Cleon had said.
It was as if…
It was as if he was cursed.
"What’re you laughing at?" Cleo asked after hearing his chuckle.
“Nothing.”
The vestiges of his laughter lingered on his handsome face. Cursed. He refused to believe in God, astrology, or karma, but he believed that he was cursed. Ajax revelled in the idea that his failed relationships were the result of a higher power having such a strong disdain for him that he lacked the other half of his heart to genuinely commit and feel a connection with another. His 190 SL made another turn as he thought about this.
After a further ten minutes of driving, he entered the exclusive Coral Bay—the gated community's name engraved onto a large stone, welcoming the jaw-droppingly wealthy residents who could afford to stake their claim on the most prime real estate in all of Blue Lagoon. There were many exclusive enclaves dotting the city and coastline, but Coral Bay was in a tier of its own. Mansions lined the winding, palm-tree-flanked streets, each with its own unique architectural design.
In addition to the renowned country club and the boasted ocean views, Coral Bay offered the most tantalizing of all: an unmistakable class divide between the elite celebrities and old money, and the merely "rich" and the common folk alike.
Cleo pulled up the car in the expansive driveway of Ajax's new house. “Here we are, boss,” he said, killing the engine.
Ajax stepped out of his car, taking in the sight of the big, all-white modern mansion before him. The structure bore a resemblance to his home in Beverly Hills, yet he still hoped that it would bring some change. After all, it was the precise reason why he had moved here—because he wanted something different. A clean slate, away from Meredith Clark and their dramatic separation. Of her begging for him to stay before she started screaming that this was all his fault. Because he’d taken too long to propose—“Eight fucking years, Ajax!”—she was looking for it in another man.
Now, thinking about it, he did consider Cleo's words. But then again, Ajax had zero desire to revive the relationship, so why even bother considering it?
If Meredith expects her dream 16-carat diamond engagement ring from an up-and-coming actor who lives off of supporting roles in movies, then so be it. That's not his problem anymore. He needs to stop taking everything Cleo said as literal gospel.
From behind he heard the trunk closing, then Cleo joined him, shouldering his duffel bag. “So, you thinking of throwing a housewarming party or what?” he asked, eyeing the property with a grin.
Ajax scrunched up his face, waving his hand dismissively. “Don't even think about it,” he said, turning and making his way towards the grand front door.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Ajax dove into the infinity pool that overlooked the private beach and sparkling azure waters of the Blue Lagoon. The cool caress of the water washed away the remnants of the hot summer air, lowering his body temperature to just right. He swam for a few laps as the orange sky was swallowed up and eventually replaced by the star-studded obsidian expanse.
Ajax finished another lap just when Cleo strolled along the poolside, a can of soda in one hand and a towel draped over his arm. The actor surfaced, looking at the younger man.
Cleo crouch down at the edge of the pool. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“One more lap.”
True to his promise, Ajax then emerged from the pool after finishing his swim. Slicking his darkened, ginger-colored hair back, he padded over to where Cleo had settled on one of the plush loungers, towel at the ready.
“So, I heard Itto’s having a party on Friday,” Cleo said casually, taking a sip of his soda.
A heavy sigh escaped Ajax's lips, already knowing where this was going. “And?”
Cleo grinned. “Well, he heard you moved here and wants you to come. It’s gonna be a big one.”
Ajax shook his head. Three words he preferred not in one sentence: Itto, big, party.
“Pass.” He said, watching Cleo’s expression turn.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“But, why? Itto’s a great guy! Funny as hell—"
“He is.” Ajax interrupted.
“—and he has killer music taste!”
“No, he does not. That’s exactly why I don’t want to go. His taste in music is… atrocious.” Ajax did a quick sweep of Cleo from head to toe, then nodded as he came to a conclusion. “But I can understand why you’d say that.”
“Hey!”
That drew an amused chuckle from the actor. Grabbing the towel, Ajax began to dry his hair. “The point is, I’m not going.” He said, curtly, cutting off any further argument before entering the house and enjoying dinner.
Hoping for a good night's rest seemed futile, for Ajax went to bed at 11 p.m. and awoke at 2 a.m. The recurring nightmares now scheduled like routine; painting the deep, lightless blue of the sea behind his closed eyelids, clogging his airways with water he couldn't stop choking on, fattening his lungs with everything but air. By the time he finally woke up, his breathing was erratic and his whole body was drenched in sweat.
Reaching out for a glass of water on the nightstand, Ajax took a long, desperation-filled sip, the water dripping down his bobbing Adam’s apple as he finished it. Setting it down with a small thud!, Ajax hung his head low and took a moment for his dizziness to subside. Once the worst of it had passed, he kicked off his blanket and made his way out of the bedroom.
The floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room let the moonlight shine through, bathing the area in a pale silver glow. At the end of the L-shaped sofa, Cleo reclines, laptop on his lap, but his attention is fixed on the 115-inch television. Ajax approached; the sound of his sandaled feet echoed throughout the room, announcing his presence to the younger man.
Cleo turned to him. “Nightmares again?” He guessed.
Wordlessly, Ajax shrugged, grabbing a slice of pizza that sat on the coffee table before sinking down onto the couch next to Cleo and joining in watching the film. Something of Captain America.
"What did your therapist say? Do they symbolize anything?" Cleo asked.
Ajax takes another bite of the pizza, his expression tired yet relaxed, as if he has become accustomed to his constant sleep disturbance. “She thinks it’s just me feeling overwhelmed or… I don’t know, like I’m not being seen or something.”
Cleo chuckled, shaking his head. "Feeling unseen, huh? I doubt that's the case with you. Your face is all over the world!" He said, then leaned in conspiratorially. "You should totally go see an oneirocritic, Dude! You know, a dream interpreter. My friend used to go, and she'd come back with all these wild insights about her subconscious."
Hearing that, Ajax scoffed. “A what now? Dream interpreter?”
“Yeah! She’d go in, talk to this lady about her dreams, and the lady would be like, ‘Ooh, the ocean symbolizes your fear of intimacy’ or some deep shit like that. It was wild.”
The amused smile on Ajax's face deepened his dimples. “Didn't know you were into all this mystical, new-age stuff, C. First, it's mermaids, now it's dream interpreters?”
“What? I’m just trying to help! You’ve never actually drowned, so it’s probably not PTSD. You don’t have any fear of water or even anything, so it’s gotta be something else, right?”
Without acknowledgement nor denial, Ajax merely laughed and gave Cleo's shoulder a light squeeze. He stood up from the couch's plush cushions, taking one last mouthful before tossing the remainder of the pizza into the box.
“I think I’ll just go for a jog instead. Clear my head,” Ajax said. “Catch you later.”
Ajax made sure to avoid banging his shin into the coffee table and then continued on his way out of the living room. He heard Cleo calling out to him, warning him not to drown. Ajax went back into his room, heading straight to his walk-in closet, and grabbed his tracksuit. Standing in front of the mirror, he pulled down his jacket over his sculpted abs. Then, he stepped into a pair of running shoes.
Strapping his smart watch to his wrist, Ajax glanced absently at his reflection in the mirror—at the dull cerulean that peered back at him.
“Dream interpreter.” Ajax said to no one. Scoffed after.
Turning his shoes, he picked up his phone and his airpods case, and went jogging.
The soothing sound of seagull cries harmonizing with the crashing waves is just part of what makes the Blue Lagoon such a treasure. Back in L.A., the best view is rows of palm trees with burning daylight as a backdrop; the rest is pollution, traffic, people, overpriced drinks, more people, entitled careless drivers, and more entitled careless drivers. For these reasons, Ajax rarely leaves the comfort of his luxurious Beverly Hills home and only goes out when necessary, either to go to the film set, enjoy a rare evening out, or catch a flight out of the country.
But here? Blue Lagoon offered so much. After finishing his morning run, Ajax had returned home, taken a refreshing shower, and managed to get a couple more hours of rest. Now, as his eyes slowly opened and he fully awoke, the view outside his window was a tempting, bright, sunny day.
A grunt escaped his lips as he hoisted his surfboard onto the roof of his G-Class, securing it in place with a reassuring click. Watching the scene, Cleo approached, eyeing the setup with eyebrows furrowed in a curious way.
“Where you go off to?” he asked.
“The beach.” Ajax gives the board one last tug to ensure it is stable.
Cleo’s brows shot up to the sky. “You’re actually gonna surf?”
“Yeah, got a problem with that?”
“Nah, just… kinda reminds me of this one anime where the guy surfs and ends up drowning.”
Behind the disguise of his sunglasses, Ajax rolled his eyes, the edge of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “I'm not gonna fucking drown, alright?” He hit Cleo's chest with the side of his fist, knocking the breath out of him.
Cleo clutched at his chest, coughing slightly. “Okay, okay, island boy. Jeez…”
Ajax chuckled, shaking his head. “You coming or what?”
“Nah, I’ll just watch over the house. You have fun out there, surf god.”
Muttering a "whatever you say" under his breath, Ajax then hopped into the driver's seat of the wagon. With a rev of the engine, he pulled out of the driveway, leaving Cleo babysitting the house. The sound of local radio filled his journey to the nearest public beach.
“And that was ‘Style’ by the one and only Taylor Swift, folks! Hope you’re all enjoying this beautiful day out there in the Lagoon. Remember, the annual surfing competition is coming up next weekend, so make sure to get your tickets if you haven’t already!”
His pearly white teeth peeking out when he grinned. “Fun.” he commented to no one.
Upon arriving at the beach parking lot, Ajax spotted an old sedan reversing out of the parking lot. After waiting about three minutes, it drove away, and he maneuvered his wagon into the vacant spot. He slammed the door, grabbed his surfboard, and passed a series of fans asking for photos, getting him to sign their surfboards, and others trying to pry out information about his upcoming movies. His NDA was a hefty fine, so he compensated with a faint smile before heading for the beach.
It is really a public beach. Families with sun-kissed children squealed as they played in the shallow waters, couples strolled hand-in-hand along the sand, a group of very loud teenagers, Insta babes, and Insta avoiders. In a way, this was a welcome sight. The more people there were, the less likely he would draw unwanted attention. Another face in the crowd.
Hoisting his board and bag in his other hand, he searched around and finally claimed a spot on the sand. He unpacked his gear, laying it down to mark his territory. After drinking a large liter of water, he set it down before sprinting towards the open water.
Ajax wouldn't call himself a professional surfer, because he is not. If he were, he might have pursued it as a career path rather than becoming an actor. Though he's always had a deep appreciation for the sport, and anytime he is close to the ocean, it is the first thing that comes to mind. He can do a few decent tricks here and there. Nothing too fancy, but enough to impress someone. When an Olympic surfing athlete acquaintance suggested this top-of-the-line board, he didn't hesitate to invest in it.
Anemo-carried cool water droplets touched his face as he waded into the salty embrace of the ocean. The long, smooth swells of the waves caressed his skin, lifting the weight from his shoulders and buoying his board. Cerulean hues surrounded him as the thump of hip-hop music playing on the shore started to fade. He felt the scorching heat of the loyal sun on his back as he positioned himself for the incoming wave.
With a powerful stroke of his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, balancing his body and footing while controlling the direction of his board. The spray of water left ghosts of kisses on his freckled skin, and for the first time in a long time, Ajax laughed with joy.
He repeated the paddling phase – riding the wave – and fell into the water until his throat was dry from the saltwater. Digging his board into the sand, he trotted to his spot and grabbed his water bottle. He let out a satisfied sigh, looking at the blue sky. What a perfect day.
Until his moment of peace was interrupted by a firm slap on the back. Instinctively, his mind was ready to retaliate, but he stopped when his eyes landed on the recognizable face of Itto Arataki. Just great. He could already guess what kind of conversation they were about to have.
“Hey, man!” Itto exclaimed in his booming voice.
Ajax hid the sting of Itto's “bro” slap behind a half-smile. “Oh, it’s you. Hey, man.”
The bigger man responded with his wider one, his canines peeking behind his lips. "Never thought I'd see you here. What's up?"
“Just here to surf, actually.”
Itto's eyes widened. "Aw man, didn't know you surf too! That's awesome!" He took a deep breath, his chest puffing out from the new oxygen in his lungs. And, as he has done so many times before, the rapper spread his legs and took a stance before hitting his own chest with pride. "I'm a pro, you know. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two! And hey, I'm having this killer party at my place this Friday. You should totally come!"
The exact party Ajax loved to avoid. He cringed inwardly, but he nodded and made an expression that he tried, with little effort, to pass for gratitude. Declining Cleo's offer was one thing, but when the host himself had invited him? Although Ajax wouldn't admit it, perhaps he was a bit of a people-pleaser after all.
“Yeah, sure, I'll be there,” he said, an empty promise.
Ajax ended up surfing with Itto. As much as he dreaded the prospect at first, he couldn't deny that the guy truly had considerable skills. He wasn't just boasting—he really was a pro, and Ajax actually learned a thing or two from him. Turns out, Itto Arataki was a pretty decent surfing partner after all; perhaps his awful taste in music was proof that all humans have their own flaws.
Well, he could forgive that, he supposes.
The rapper excused himself early, though, saying something about having a recording schedule for his upcoming “killer” album. Ajax continued his solitary surf session as the sky continued to shift from vibrant blue to a warm, burnished orange to star-dotted black.
As the latest wave he had ridden subsided, he sat on his floating board, feeling the water ripples beneath him. In the quiet pause, he became aware of a presence—someone on the beach, someone with a lantern, frantically waving and yelling.
“Hey!” They shouted. “Get out of there!”
Ajax shot a quick look around, wondering if they were calling out to someone else. It was then that he noticed that the other surfers and bathers had long since departed, leaving him the only person still in the water. Surprised, he turned to the beach and found it, too, empty of beachgoers. He was more immersed in surfing than he realized.
“Hey, boy!” the person shouted to Ajax. “Get out of the water, it’s dangerous!”
“What do you mean?” He called back.
“Just get out of the water, now!”
Though confused, he paddled toward the shore as the stranger instructed. The sand clung to his wet feet when he finally reached the beach, still holding his board. He watched the person—a woman, now that he could see her well enough from the light of her lantern—approach him hurriedly, as though she was the one who needed an explanation from him and not the other way around.
With a disappointed face and a hand on her hip, the woman asked, “Are you new around here, boy?”
“Yeah, I am,” He answered casually.
The woman let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Well, that explains it then. Did no one tell you about the dangers of being out in the open sea after dawn?”
A frown formed between his brows, and now it was his turn to shake his head. “No, what do you mean? What’s going on?” He glanced back at the dark water as if expecting the “dangers” she’d mentioned to appear.
“Did you even read the sign at the entrance of the beach?”
“Uh, no?”
“Alright, let me be the one to tell you then – no surfing, no bathing, no swimming in the ocean after dark.”
With growing confusion, Ajax asked, “Why? What’s the big deal?”
“‘Why’?” The woman's tone betrays the annoyance within. "Do you want to drown, boy?"
Ajax couldn't help but let out a harsh scoff. "What's with people thinking I'll drown…" He murmured to himself before increasing his voice and saying, "Look, lady, I can swim just fine. I even have a certificate to prove it, if you want to see it."
The woman shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “It’s always the arrogant newcomers like you who can’t respect the ancient ways of this place.”
“What, mermaids?” he expected her to frown at his snarky remark.
But instead, the woman shushed him, her eyes darting nervously towards the ocean as if to ensure that no creature other than the two of them heard. The sound of the breaking waves grew louder behind him, the salty smell stronger, and the orange light emanating from her lantern had only rendered the darkness more pronounced. A chill ran down his spine, and Ajax wasn't sure it had anything to do with the cold night air—he found himself questioning the wisdom of surfing late at night. But he remembered doing it countless times in Bali. So why was this quaint little seaside town any different?
Fixing a steely gaze at Ajax, she made sure he got the memo when she warned, "Don't you dare go near the water at night if you want to keep being alive, boy."
Without another word, she turned and began to walk away, the glow of her lantern slowly receding into the darkness. He was left alone on the beach—confused, skeptical. The persistence of this local tale seemed to compel him to believe it, whether proven or not.
Ajax walked to where his beach towel lay nearly abandoned. He gathered his things, considering going home, not because he feared any mystical sea creatures or any of the folklore the woman seemed to have terrible faith in, but out of respect. Doing his own version of the adage "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." At least, it was what Ajax attempted to insist upon himself.
Regardless of how hard he tried to convince himself, his actions resembled those of someone who had been warned and believed the warning.
When he arrived home, Cleo was lounging in the living room, the TV playing a reality show. The sound of the heavy door closing must have grabbed his attention, as the young man turned toward him.
“Glad you’re back alive, and didn’t drown.”
Ajax let out a weary sigh, tossing his duffel bag to the floor with a thud. “Yeah, wish I did.”
Cleo’s brows knitted together in concern. “You okay?”
“Just met this woman down at the beach,” he started, plopping down on the plush couch beside Cleo with little regard for smelling like saltwater. “Told me to get the hell out of the water.”
“The water? Why would she tell you that?”
“Beats me. Apparently, no one’s supposed to be in the ocean after dark around here. Said it was dangerous. Some ancient local beliefs, I guess.”
Cleo’s eyes suddenly light up with recognition. “Mermaids?”
Ajax paused, inwardly scolding himself for forgetting that Cleo, his assistant, was also a firm believer in the local mermaid lore. With a sigh, he confirmed, “Exactly, mermaids,” thereby sealing the fate of his next two minutes, which Cleo would spend attempting to convince him again.
“I knew it! I knew that local legend wasn’t just some urban myth! It’s real!”
Rolling his eyes, the redhead let out an exasperated huff. "Come on, anyone can make up stories like that."
“But think about it, Boss! Why would someone go out of their way to warn you if it wasn’t legit? There’s definitely something out there those people are scared shitless about!”
“The only logical reason to stay out of the water after dark is the damn tide.”
Before Cleo could launch into another round of mermaid conspiracy theories, Ajax waved his hand dismissively and turned down whatever argument he had. “I’m going to shower,” he said, getting up from the couch and starting to walk toward the bathroom.
On Friday, Ajax kept his promise to come to Itto’s killer party.
The rapper's home is a modern, all-black building that appears to float above the ground, with white illuminated stairs leading visitors to a heavy, tall door, which, unfortunately, isn't enough to muffle the blaring music from inside. It makes Ajax question his decision to come, making him wonder why he even bothered. Cleo, on the other hand, is eager to enjoy his Friday night, and what better way to do it than showing up at Itto's party?
When Ajax stepped inside, he concluded that this was the concept Itto preferred for his home—matte black walls, even for the interior. The room was adorned with various art pieces, the most striking of which were abstract red and gold paintings and a towering 8-foot statue of a rabbit-headed creature standing guard in the corner. In addition to having poor taste in music, Itto was apparently a renowned art collector who had more money than sense. How much is there to learn about a person?
The U-shaped area in the middle of the main living area was filled with Itto's social circle; some faces Ajax recognized, and, unfortunately, recognized him back. This meant that the actor had to approach and give his hello.
“Hello, ladies,” Ajax greeted them with a charming smile.
The women giggled and cooed in response, their perfumes mingling with the scent of alcohol and sweat. But amidst the fluttering lashes and flirtatious smiles, the real menace was the man sitting in the middle of them, like the sultan of a harem or even the center of the solar system.
Kaeya Alberich, the golden boy of the industry. Former co-star. Self-proclaimed best actor. Although it wasn't always as awful, their relationship kept becoming worse, particularly after the "Reckoning" trilogy ended, which also marked the end of their collaboration. Thank God. Skill-wise, he's a great actor—Ajax always gives credit where it's due. The problem was he had a knack for being late. A charming man, at least to everyone save Ajax—and here too, one could conclude that they have requited hatred for each other.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our new neighbor.” The dark-haired man purred, the corners of his lips pulling into an annoying smirk.
Ajax faked his smile and made sure Kaeya knew. “Hoping I won't be seeing much of you, though.”
Kaeya let out a laugh. "Don't worry, my friend," he leaned back comfortably in the plush cushions, his arms casually draped behind the women sitting beside him. "As soon as I heard you were moving in, I wasted no time and immediately secured myself a property outside the state. Fastest purchase I've ever made. But, hey, it was a minor price to pay to avoid the headache of meeting you often. This is such a small town, after all."
Ajax didn't rise to his bait, and instead gave him the most boring “How… thoughtful of you.”
And, as the larger-than-life protagonist of the story (or party, rather), Itto—despite being completely unaware of the brewing enmity between the two—interrupts before they can elbow each other in the face.
“Ayeee, Ajax, you made it!” Itto exclaimed, pulling him into a bro-hug. “I’m so glad you could join us, man!”
Ajax forced a polite smile. “Yeah, nice party. Great music choice.”
Hearing that, Kaeya raised an eyebrow, as though it were something bizarre to say. Ajax couldn't help but think that perhaps they had one thing in common—their disdain for Itto's musical preferences, despite being here.
“Hey, dude, mind if I steal him for a bit? I gotta show this guy around the house, let him know where all the fun is happening, y’know?”
Kaeya gave him a faux smile. “Sure, go ahead.”
Another thing to learn about Itto is that he's also a remarkably attentive host, guiding Ajax through his mansion and showing off all the "fun" areas, like he promised. From the beer pong table to the fully stocked bar with bartenders on hand for refills, the swimming pool filled with more familiar faces of acquaintances and some of Ajax's friends and random models, and even a bowling alley in the basement. Itto also made sure to display his collection of surfboards.
As they made their way along the side of the pool, Itto cleared his throat. “Hey, man, I'm real sorry about the other day, for leaving early and all.”
Ajax waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”
"But that wave the other day, though? Whoo, that was a good one! But I know when the real big ones are gonna hit.” Itto said. "Believe it or not, I've been observing the tides and the moon! I even asked some of the local surfers. And let me tell ya, the big waves are always there in the week leading up to the full moon. And when does it happen? That's when the real fun begins!"
“Really?”
The big guy nodded enthusiastically. "Really! And you know what? It's even better on the day of the full moon!" He paused abruptly, as if recalling something disappointing. "But," he continued, "the locals have this thing where they isolate the beach during the actual day of the full moon. So, I guess we'll have to stick to the week leading up to it, huh?"
Hearing this, Ajax’s brows knitted both in confusion and intrigue. “Isolate the beach? Why is that?”
Itto shrugged nonchalantly. “Beats me. When I first moved here, I didn’t know about that whole full moon thing, so I just went out surfing like normal. Got swarmed by the locals telling me to get out of the water. Said I should never do it again, not even at dawn—which, by the way, is apparently a no-go every day.”
“Yeah, I actually got told the same thing.”
“Eh, can’t really do anything about it. Seems to be some kind of local practice or tradition or whatever. Not like we can just barge in and ruin it, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve been hearing stories about mermaids too. Doesn’t really seem believable to me.”
Itto stopped walking, turning his head completely towards Ajax. “Mermaids.. you say?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a dumb rumor, if you ask me.”
But Ajax could see Itto's expression shift. His complexion turned pale, and his eyes filled with uncertainty, oscillating between skepticism and belief. It was the same look that Ajax had on his face that night.
“Wait, you don’t actually believe in that, do you?”
A nervous chuckle escaped Itto's lips. "I-I mean, the whole moon and dawn thing… yeah, I'm starting to think there might be something to it." He rubbed his arms, trying to soothe the goosebumps that had risen on his skin.
“Come on, it’s just a fairy tale,” Ajax stated logically.
Itto shook his head, approaching Ajax, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, if those mermaids are real, I'm staying the hell out of the water, forever, no questions asked. No way am I risking it, man."
Ajax wanted to reason with him, as he considered this trivial. However, he found himself unable to fully dismiss it or pretend it wasn’t lodged in his head and planting doubt and uncertainty, like a fragile human being exposed to deception. He was really tired of people seeming to believe these tales so readily. It didn't help that the locals seemed to effortlessly propagate it, expecting unquestioning belief from newcomers—with no explanation for their customs.
What secrets did the sea hold during the night?
And why was everyone so afraid of the full moon?
Before Ajax had the chance to voice his thoughts, Itto waved at someone behind him, speaking out a name Ajax recognized from television, social media, and, most likely, fashion magazines. Intrigued, he turned to get a better look at the person and-
Was absolutely certain that, from the way he lost his breath, he had fallen in love at first sight.
Catching glimpses of her on glossy magazine covers and news outlets writing about her is a far cry from the visceral experience of being in her presence. As she passes by, coming close enough to join their conversation, Ajax catches a whiff of her perfume, and he swears nothing has ever felt more enticing to his senses. Itto engaged her in conversation, but Ajax paid it little attention, his focus solely on her voice. The way she spoke her words was like a heavenly melody to his ears. A rush of oxytocin spreads from his hypothalamus, permeating the intricacies of his bloodstream and making him forget who he is.
A heavy pat on his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. Itto's voice cut through the foggy remnants of his mind, introducing the woman beside him with that famous name.
“I’m sure you already know her!” he said, a wide grin pada his face.
Ajax's mouth gaped, then closed in a loss for words. Get a grip. He wouldn't be a famous actor without his skills. With a snap of his invisible fingers, he put on a good show of a man full of charisma, as if he hadn't just lost himself.
"Of course, her face is everywhere," Ajax said to Itto. Then, he completely turned to her, holding out one hand for hers. "The highest paid model. It's an honor to finally meet you in person. I’m Ajax." He offered her a charming smile.
The thumps of the distant party music faded the second she laid her eyes on him; her gaze filled with… recognition. As if he were someone she had known for a long time, someone she could see past his fame and work in major films and the name and new identity he had made for himself. But, then again, they were two A-list celebrities, exchanging names as a mere formality. A facade of humbleness.
“Yes,” she replied. When she placed her hand on Ajax’s, the man hesitated for the briefest of moments before bringing it to his lips—
“I know who you are.”
—and pressed a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. A gesture of the old world.
@ae-mius
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