Sovereign of the Deep

The water hit his throat like something alive—cold and sharp and almost real. It didn't fix the pounding in his head, but it dulled it just enough for his brain to form a thought.

'Who is this?'

He blinked up from the jug.

The boy standing in front of him looked like he'd walked straight off a tech-corp runway. Not flashy—just… precision-crafted. Clean. Sharp. Designed. His black coat shimmered faintly with silver seams, etched so fine they looked like spiderweb cracks in a windshield. 

The turtleneck underneath was just as precise. Dark slate gray. No wrinkles. No scuffs. Even his boots looked ironed.

His gloves were fingerless, thin, probably custom. Ren's eyes tracked a strip of green glass wrapped around the boy's wrist—smoothed down, dangling from a leather strap like a relic. Then his gaze caught on the pendant tucked just under his collar: a disc of nearly invisible glass, pale and ethereal, that shimmered faintly when the light hit it.

The guy didn't just look rich. He smelled like money.

Ren licked his lips, winced. They were still cracked.

'Strange… how did he know I needed water?'

He took another sip, slower this time. His throat still ached, but his hands weren't spasming anymore.

That dull static crawling under his skin was starting to settle—replaced by something sharper. Quieter.

Awareness.

He looked at the boy again.

'What's this feeling I'm getting from him?'

It wasn't the same feeling he got from Anele—the blood man. That one had felt like copper slicing open your teeth. Like drowning in something warm and wrong.

This was different.

Subtle.

Like standing in a sealed glass room and realizing there's no door.

Ren looked back at the jug in his hands.

'Shit. What if it's poisoned?'

His stomach twisted. His fingers tightened around the handle.

'Tsk… I drank it already. Too late now.'

"Come with me," the boy said.

Already turning.

"You were looking for the restroom, right?"

Ren blinked.

What.

'Okay. This is past weird now. How the hell did he know that?

Oh… is he a psychic or something?'

He opened his mouth to ask—but didn't.

His body was still screaming for water. That's all it cared about.

He hesitated.

Then followed in silence.

They reached the restroom quickly. The boy walked to the sink and turned the tap on full.

"Hurry. Drink," he instructed, motioning toward the stream.

Ren stared at him again, handed the glass jug to the boy, then bent down without asking any questions. He drank directly from the sink, hands gripping the sides, as cold water spilled over his face. He didn't care. His lips were cracked. His vision was blurring. He drank like his life depended on it.

Because it probably did.

Three minutes passed.

Maybe four.

His hands trembled. His back ached from leaning. But he couldn't stop until the weight in his head eased enough to remember where he was.

Finally, he pulled away, gasping, forehead wet, eyes red. His breath came shallow, fast.

"How do you feel?" the boy asked.

Ren blinked, swallowing.

"…Still thirsty."

The boy didn't look surprised. He tilted his head slightly, like he was confirming something.

"I know something that could help," he said cheerfully, already pulling out his phone.

Ren watched him swipe and tap like this was normal.

Like dragging some half-dead stranger to a bathroom and letting him drink from a faucet was just… routine.

Ren's voice cracked. 

"Who are you?"

The boy paused, just briefly, his pale lashes lifting.

"Call me Sami," he said, then looked back down. "I booked us a ride. It'll be here in three minutes…"

Ren kept staring.

Three minutes to what? To death? To kidnapping? To more confusion?

His legs still felt hollow.

But he didn't move.

Sami pocketed the phone and zipped up his coat in one smooth motion. Ren noticed something—the glass jug was gone. Just… vanished.

"There's a private pool rental not far from here," Sami said casually, like it was nothing. "Thirty minutes in the pool should be enough to get you back to normal."

Ren frowned. "Normal?"

"Yeah. Well. Closer to normal." Sami made a little gesture with his fingers—like approximating a straight line that was definitely crooked.

He turned halfway toward the door. Didn't look back.

"You're… still leaking, by the way. Your Vira. I mean, I'm guessing you don't know what that is."

Ren didn't answer.

The stranger was calm. Too calm. Confident like he already knew how this would go.

Too clean. Too certain. Too damn smooth.

But—

His body was still screaming.

His skin felt like paper.

And for some reason, despite everything—

He decided to follow this stranger.

He didn't trust him. But he would like to return to… normal? 

Sami glanced back at him.

"Save your questions for later," he said, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. "You'll have your answers soon. Let's go."

Ren followed.

***

Ever since he was a little boy, Ren had been made to shower three times a day.

Not once. Not twice. Three.

Morning, noon, and night. His mother—Rhesa—was strict about it. Almost ritualistic. It didn't matter if he was tired. Or freezing. Or sick.

Even when the power was out, she'd make it happen.

Back then, he thought it was just one of her weird rules. Something old-fashioned and obsessive. He never asked why. Never had the words.

But the truth was… he liked it.

The water made him feel better. Not just clean—calmer. Like something inside him unclenched every time he stepped under the stream. And more than that…

He noticed something.

The more time he spent under water—real water—the less he felt like drinking it.

That shouldn't make sense. But it did.

And now, standing here, soaked in sweat and silence, he found himself hoping it might still work.

They'd arrived at the private pool about fifteen minutes ago. It wasn't far from the hospital. Sami had barely said a word the whole ride, just tapped something on his phone and hummed along to a song Ren didn't recognize.

Now the air was warm. Chlorinated. Artificial. But the pool itself—

It shimmered.

It was an indoor rental, surrounded by thick soundproof walls and soft light. Clean lines. Minimal furniture. Quiet. The kind of place where rich people probably swam to avoid being seen.

Sami lounged on a small sunbed to the side, arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. His coat was folded neatly beside him, phone resting on the seat.

Ren stepped into the pool slowly, every muscle aching. The water was warm. Too warm. He didn't like that.

But his skin did.

It stopped stinging almost immediately.

His cracked lips stopped bleeding. The ringing in his ears dulled. For the first time since he woke up in that hospital, his chest didn't feel like it was caving in.

Still, something was wrong.

He turned his head toward Sami, who was now sipping from a clear bottle with a little wedge of lime inside.

"So… how is this supposed to help me?" Ren asked. His voice came out hoarse.

Sami smiled without looking. "You'll see."

That was it. No explanation. No science. Not even a shrug.

Ren frowned. Floated a little deeper into the pool, arms lazily moving at his sides. The tension in his shoulders melted, but it didn't take the questions away. If anything, they multiplied.

Who was this guy?

Why had he helped him? Why did he know what Ren needed before Ren did? And what the hell did he mean by "leaking Vira"?

It was too quiet in here.

He tried to speak again, but the thought slipped. Like water through fingers.

His vision blurred.

He blinked hard. Once. Twice.

The lights overhead smeared into streaks. He turned to look at Sami—his outline was fuzzy, indistinct.

"Huh…?"

The warmth was no longer comforting. It was heavy. Too heavy. A slow, invisible weight pressing down on his lungs. On his mind.

"What is…"

His arms stopped moving. His body drifted.

He couldn't tell if he was sinking or floating anymore. The water felt deeper than it had a moment ago. Impossible, endless.

Somewhere in the distance, Sami's voice echoed—far too calm for what was happening.

"Relax. Don't fight it."

"What… what are you doing to me?" Ren mumbled. His tongue was slow. Numb.

He wanted to get out.

He tried to lift his head. Move his legs. But his limbs didn't listen.

The last thing he saw was the ceiling lights fragmenting like glass—fracturing into a kaleidoscope of whites and silvers—

Then—

Black.

Like falling into the mouth of a deep sea trench.

Soundless. Breathless.

Gone.

***

"…en… en… REN."

Ren gasped sharply, his whole body jolting like it had been yanked out of sleep mid-fall.

His eyes shot open.

Water pressed gently against his skin—warm, weightless.

Above him, light shimmered in distorted patterns, bending like silk through glass.

'What…?'

He blinked.

The air felt thick. Quiet.

'Did I… fall asleep?

Inside the pool?'

Panic kicked in.

He jerked upright, arms flailing for a moment before his instincts caught up. He swam to the surface and broke through with a gasp, dragging air into his lungs like it might disappear again.

His head cleared slowly. His limbs felt sore—but loose.

And the headache that had been carving through his skull earlier?

Gone.

He floated for a second, then made his way to the edge and climbed out.

The tiles were cool beneath his feet. Water trailed behind him in slow rivulets.

Sami was already waiting, crouched at the pool's edge like a cat who'd been there the whole time. A towel hung from his arm. His phone was in the other hand.

"You were in there for three hours," Sami said, tossing him the towel. "I had to wake you up. I've got work, you know. District 4's not cheap."

Ren caught the towel awkwardly.

"Three… hours?" he echoed, blinking.

Then his eyes snapped wide.

"Wait—what? Three hours?! How is that even—?"

Sami cut him off, like the question bored him.

"How's your body feeling?"

Ren hesitated. Then blinked down at himself.

The ache in his ribs—gone.

The rawness in his throat—gone.

His shoulder, where something had hit him back in District 6—it didn't even twinge.

He ran a hand down his side, then looked back at Sami, stunned.

"I feel…"

He paused.

"I feel great. What did you do to me?"

Sami looked up from his phone.

"Nothing."

Ren stared.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Sami checked the time, his thumb sliding across the screen like this whole thing wasn't weird at all. "Your body just needed the right environment. You were, uh… overdrawn."

"Overdrawn," Ren repeated, deadpan.

"Yeah." Sami pocketed the phone and stood. "Anyway, I've booked a cab. It'll take you back to the hospital. I'll come by tomorrow around 2 p.m. to pick you and your sister up."

"Wait—what?"

"There's someone who wants to meet you both." Sami shrugged like it was no big deal. "You'll get your answers then. I know you've got a lot."

Ren opened his mouth. Closed it again.

He did have a lot of questions. But his brain hadn't caught up enough to form them yet. Everything still felt… off-balance. Like waking from a dream where the ground never stayed put.

Sami reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out two small pendants—smooth glass discs, nearly identical to the one he wore. They caught the overhead light with a soft, ghostly shimmer.

He held them out.

"Here. Keep one. Give the other to your sister."

Ren took them cautiously, feeling the cool weight of them settle in his palm.

"What are they?"

"Good luck charms," Sami said with a sly grin.

Ren gave him a look.

"Seriously?"

"Mostly."

Ren sighed and shook his head.

"Right. Of course."

He turned, still wrapped in the towel, water dripping from every step as he headed toward the changing room.

Behind him, Sami called out casually, "I'd hurry if I were you. The cab's not gonna wait forever."

Ren mumbled under his breath, dragging the towel up to his head.

"Aiisssh… why won't my hair dry?"

He rubbed harder, like maybe friction alone could make up for the strange weight still clinging to him.

Sami didn't answer.

He just watched him go—calm, unreadable.

Then he pulled his phone from his coat again and typed:

"I've made contact. Will bring him over tomorrow."

His thumb hovered for a second.

Then he added:

"He's more receptive than expected."

And hit send.