That night was quiet in the sleeping coastal city. The lights from distant buildings reflected faintly against the dark surface of the sea, while the occasional passing car echoed softly through the empty streets. In one corner of the city stood a massive research facility, directly connected to an enormous aquarium.
Inside the main chamber, illuminated by cold bluish neon lights, twenty-four great white sharks swam slowly within a tank that rose nearly two stories high. Their massive bodies moved with steady precision, cutting through the water with the calm dominance of apex predators.
A professor in a white lab coat stood before the tank, holding a small bottle filled with pale pink liquid. His eyes narrowed with ambition as he stared at the creatures below.
"If these great white sharks cannot adapt to life inside an artificial aquarium…" he muttered quietly, a thin smile forming on his lips, "then I will force that adaptation with this potion."
He stepped toward the iron staircase leading to the upper platform of the tank. However, the slightly damp floor betrayed him. His foot slipped.
The bottle fell from his hand.
Crash.
Glass shattered across the floor, and the pink liquid spread thinly over the surface.
The professor's expression twisted in irritation.
"Useless…"
Still frustrated, he climbed the staircase toward the upper platform. Once there, he looked down at the sharks, which continued swimming as if nothing had happened. His anger intensified. Without thinking, he slammed his fist against the thick glass wall of the aquarium.
Thud.
The vibration rippled through the reinforced structure.
Unnoticed by him, five smaller potion bottles resting near the edge of the platform trembled from the impact. Slowly, they rolled, then slipped past the railing.
Plung.
The glass bottles entered the water without breaking. They sank gradually, spinning gently as they descended into the depths, as if pulled by an unseen current.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then, at the bottom of the tank, faint streams of pink liquid began to seep from the bottle caps. The color spread slowly through the water, not explosively, but steadily—like mist rising from the ocean floor.
The clear blue water began to shift.
Little by little, it turned into a dense pink hue that expanded throughout the tank.
The sharks stopped swimming.
Their massive bodies hovered in place, as if sensing something unfamiliar in the water they breathed. Then their movements changed.
More organized.
More synchronized.
The professor stepped back, panic creeping into his expression.
"What… is happening?"
The surface of the water began to ripple more violently than before. One of the sharks suddenly twisted its body and surged upward, fast enough for the splash to strike the inner glass walls.
In his mind, he imagined the enormous predator leaping out and attacking him.
Fear overtook curiosity.
Without hesitation, he hurried down the stairs and rushed toward the exit of the laboratory, his face filled with irritation and unease.
"This experiment is a failure… I'll deal with it tomorrow."
The heavy steel door shut behind him.
The next morning, when he returned to inspect what he believed to be a failed experiment, his steps froze the moment he opened the main chamber door.
Water covered the floor.
Shards of thick glass were scattered everywhere.
The massive aquarium wall had been shattered—from the inside.
He slowly approached, his breathing heavy.
Inside… it was empty.
Not a single shark remained.
No bodies.
No blood.
Nothing.
The professor stood motionless, his face pale.
"Where… did they go?"
There was no answer.
Only the faint sound of pink-tinted water dripping onto the laboratory floor, while outside, the city remained unaware that twenty-four apex predators had vanished from behind glass.
That morning was bright and mercilessly clear.
Sunlight poured over the coastal city, turning the ocean into a field of glittering blue light.
The waves rolled in gently, carrying the scent of salt through the air. Vendors opened their stalls. Joggers moved across the sand.
Lifeguards scanned the shoreline from their towers.
Then the shouting shattered the calm.
Twenty-four girls were running toward the sea.
They moved unnaturally fast—too synchronized, too precise. Their expressions were filled with fear and confusion, as if they had awakened into a world they didn't understand.
"HEY! STOP THEM!"
"CATCH THEM!"
Beach patrol officers and civilians rushed after them.
Inside their chests, newly formed lungs expanded and contracted smoothly.
The potion that had dissolved into the aquarium the night before had completely erased their gills. In their place were fully developed human lungs.
The transformation had not been partial.
It had rewritten them entirely.
They could breathe air.
Perfectly.
And yet, instinct still pulled them toward the ocean.
Not because they would suffocate—
But because the sea was the only thing that felt familiar.
One of the girls stumbled in the soft sand and fell.
The others immediately turned back to help her.
Before they could lift her—
A heavy net flew through the air and dropped over them.
They struggled—not gasping for oxygen—
But panicking at the restraint.
"It's tight…!"
"I don't like this…!"
"Let us go!"
Tears welled in their eyes.
"Please…" one whispered softly.
Near the waterline stood a young man with dark blue hair, droplets of seawater still glistening on his skin under the sun. A surfboard rested against his side.
He had just finished adjusting his swimming goggles, preparing to paddle out into the waves.
When the shouting began, he paused.
Slowly, he lifted the goggles from his eyes and pushed them up, letting them rest casually atop his tousled blue hair.
His golden-brown eyes focused on the scene ahead.
Unlike everyone else—
He wasn't yelling.
He wasn't panicking.
He was observing.
Calmly.
One of the girls, trapped beneath the net, locked eyes with him.
There was no hostility in his gaze.
No fear.
Only quiet awareness.
He began walking toward the crowd.
Unhurried.
Sand shifted softly beneath his feet.
When he reached the circle of people, he stopped just outside it.
"Hey," he said, voice steady and low. "It's not right to treat them like this. Let them go."
One of the men gripping the net glared at him.
"And why do you care? You their creator or something?"
The blue-haired young man turned his head slowly toward him.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't tense his body.
He simply looked at him.
For a brief moment—
The air felt heavier.
The man felt an inexplicable pressure pressing against his chest. His throat tightened.
"I… I was just asking…"
His hands loosened.
Others followed.
The net slackened and fell away.
The girls carefully freed themselves, brushing sand from their skin.
One stepped forward hesitantly.
"Thank you… Without you, we wouldn't have been released."
"Yes… thank you," another added softly.
He gave a small shrug, sunlight reflecting off the goggles resting in his hair.
"It's fine. You're free."
The crowd whispered among themselves.
"Who is that guy?"
"He's too calm…"
"Something feels strange about him…"
But he had already turned slightly toward the ocean again.
The girls moved toward the water.
The waves rolled forward in a slow, glittering rhythm.
Shhhh… crash… shhhh…
Foam brushed against the girls' ankles as they stepped deeper into the sea. For a moment—just a moment—they all turned back.
Twenty-four pairs of eyes met his.
The blue-haired young man stood near the shoreline, sunlight catching on the swimming goggles resting in his hair. His surfboard leaned lightly against his arm.
It was a silent thank you.
Then they moved forward again.
Water rose past their knees.
Their waists.
Their shoulders.
And finally, the ocean swallowed them whole.
At first, it looked natural—like creatures returning home.
But beneath the surface—
Something was wrong.
Their lungs tightened violently.
No gills opened.
No adaptation came.
Only the crushing pressure of seawater and the sharp, suffocating burn in their chests.
Bubbles escaped their lips.
Their movements became frantic.
Hands reached upward toward the wavering light above.
"H… he—"
The word dissolved into water.
Above the surface, the waves churned unnaturally.
The blue-haired young man's expression changed instantly.
"…No."
He threw his surfboard onto the sand without hesitation.
It hit the shore with a dull thud.
He ran.
Sand sprayed behind him.
The next wave crashed against his legs—
SPLASH!
Cold water wrapped around him, but he didn't slow down. He pushed forward two more steps and dove.
FWOOOSH—
The world became blue and heavy.
Sound dulled into distant rumbling.
He swam hard, eyes searching.
There—
A faint silhouette sinking.
He grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist before kicking toward the surface with everything he had.
They burst through.
GASP!
"Breathe!" he shouted hoarsely, though she was barely conscious.
He didn't stop.
He dove again.
And again.
Dragging them upward one by one.
His muscles burned.
His lungs screamed.
The waves slapped against him relentlessly.
Crash! Splash! Shhh—
Minutes passed in chaos.
Finally, with the help of the current, he half-
carried, half-dragged them onto the sand.
The ocean retreated with a long hiss.
Shhhhhhh…
The girls lay scattered across the shore, coughing violently as water spilled from their mouths.
Air filled their lungs again.
They were alive.
The blue-haired young man stumbled one last step—
Then collapsed onto his back in the sand.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
Then slower.
His vision blurred.
Exhaustion swallowed him whole.
Around them, a crowd gathered at a distance.
"Did he just save all of them?"
"He jumped in alone…"
"Is he okay?"
No one dared to approach.
One man waved his arms nervously.
"Hey! Break it up! Give them space! Move along!"
Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed, whispering in confusion.
One of the shark girls slowly crawled toward him.
"Hey…"
No response.
His eyes were closed.
His breathing faint.
Too faint.
Panic tightened her chest.
"He's not moving…" another whispered weakly.
"He saved us…"
Her thoughts raced.
Underwater, her lungs had burned.
Air.
He needed air.
Without fully understanding human customs, she placed her hands gently on his shoulders.
"I don't want you to stop breathing…" she murmured softly.
She leaned down.
Her lips touched his.
Warm.
Salty.
Soft.
For a second, the world felt impossibly still.
The sound of the ocean filled the silence.
Shhh… crash…
She sealed her mouth over his and breathed into him carefully, pushing air into his lungs.
She pulled back briefly, then leaned in again, giving him another breath.
"Please… wake up…"
Suddenly—
His chest jerked.
"—GHK!"
His eyes snapped open.
Wide.
Confused.
For a split second, he didn't understand what was happening.
Her face was inches from his.
Their lips still barely touching.
His brain froze.
"…Huh?"
Realization hit.
His eyes widened even more.
"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
He shot upright so fast he nearly bumped his forehead into hers.
His cheeks burned red instantly.
"My— why— you—!"
She blinked, startled.
"You were not waking up," she said softly.
"Your breathing was very small."
"I was just exhausted!"
"You looked like you stopped."
He touched his lips unconsciously.
They still felt warm.
He could feel the faint pressure lingering.
His heart pounded loudly in his ears.
"I gave you air," she continued innocently.
"That is what you needed… right?"
He opened his mouth—
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"…That's not— I mean— That's not usually how—"
He stopped.
Her eyes held no teasing.
No embarrassment.
Only genuine concern.
He turned his face away slightly, flustered.
"…Next time," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, "just shake me."
She tilted her head.
"Shake you?"
"Yes."
"…Breathing is not first?"
He covered part of his face with his hand.
"…Not normally."
For the first time, she let out a small, soft laugh.
The ocean continued its endless rhythm behind them.
Shhh… crash… shhh…
And while the city slowly returned to normal—
Something between them had quietly shifted.
Not because of the sea.
Not because of the rescue.
But because of the breath they had shared.
A few minutes later, the sound of the waves had softened again.
Shhh… crash… shhh…
The sunlight felt warmer now, almost gentle against the skin.
The blue-haired young man slowly pushed himself up from the sand. His cheeks were still faintly red, though he tried very hard to pretend they weren't. Grains of sand clung stubbornly to the back of his shirt and along his pants.
He cleared his throat quietly and stood to his full height.
Then he began brushing himself off—patting the sand from his legs, dusting off his back with firm, embarrassed taps.
A small cloud of sand fell to the ground.
He exhaled.
Finally regaining composure.
But then—
He felt something strange.
A presence.
He looked up.
All twenty-four shark girls had stood up at the exact same time.
And now—
They were doing the exact same thing.
Patting their legs.
Brushing their backs.
Even mimicking the small shake of his shoulders.
In perfect synchronization.
Their expressions were completely blank.
Innocent.
Focused.
He stared.
"…Eh?"
They continued dusting themselves off in unison, copying the angle of his hands, the rhythm of his movements—almost like a reflection in twenty-four mirrors.
His eyebrow twitched.
"W-What are you doing?" he asked, genuinely confused.
One of the girls stepped slightly forward, tilting her head just a little.
"We are following your movement," she answered calmly. "You stood up. So we stood up. You removed the sand. So we are removing the sand."
Her tone carried no sarcasm.
No teasing.
Only pure logic.
He blinked.
"That's… not what I meant."
Another girl lightly tapped her back again, carefully imitating the exact spot he had brushed moments earlier.
"Is this incorrect?" she asked softly.
His face flushed deeper.
"It's not incorrect, it's just— you don't have to copy everything I do."
They all paused at once.
Twenty-four heads tilted in slight, almost identical angles.
"Then… what should we do?" one asked.
He ran a hand through his hair in quiet frustration, accidentally brushing against the swimming goggles resting there.
"I don't know," he muttered. "Just… be normal."
A brief silence fell.
The ocean whispered behind them.
Shhh… crash…
The girls glanced at one another.
Then back at him.
"…We do not understand what 'normal' means," one admitted honestly.
He stared at them.
For a long moment.
Then sighed in defeat.
"…Right."
Of course they didn't.
He rubbed his face once more, still faintly red from earlier.
"…Fine. Do whatever you want."
Instantly, they resumed standing quietly in front of him—hands resting at their sides—
watching him attentively.
Like students awaiting instruction.
He looked at them.
They looked back.
Unblinking.
Synchronized.
He felt a sudden headache forming.
"…This is going to be troublesome," he muttered under his breath.
The waves continued their endless rhythm behind them, as if amused.
Shhh… crash… shhh…
And beneath the bright morning sky, surrounded by twenty-four synchronized former apex predators—
The blue-haired young man realized his peaceful day of surfing was officially over.
The morning tide rolled in quietly, brushing the shoreline with long silver waves.
"Well then… I'll take my leave."
The blue-haired young man said softly.
His voice carried a calm politeness, though there was still a faint awkwardness in it.
The shark girl standing in front of him did not respond.
She simply stared.
Her bright eyes sparkled with a strange mixture of curiosity and admiration, like someone witnessing something fascinating for the very first time. The salty wind lifted strands of her silver-blue hair as she watched him turn away.
The young man walked toward the surfboard resting against a rock near the shore.
Behind him, the shark girl quietly began to follow.
Her steps were light, almost soundless against the damp sand. She kept a small distance, close enough to observe him but far enough not to be immediately noticed.
When the blue-haired young man reached his surfboard, he bent down and lifted it with practiced ease. He tucked it under his arm and began walking toward the small coastal road that led to town.
His face, however, was slightly flushed.
Even now.
His fingers unconsciously brushed against his lips.
Why… did they kiss me earlier…?
The thought echoed in his mind, repeating again and again.
His expression turned shy and slightly troubled as he walked along the quiet street.
The evening breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed from the ocean behind him.
Street lamps flickered on one by one, casting warm amber circles of light across the pavement.
Unbeknownst to him…
The shark girl was still following.
And she was not alone anymore.
More figures had appeared.
One by one, several shark girls emerged from the darker parts of the beach path and the narrow alleys near the harbor. Their footsteps were soft and curious, their movements almost synchronized like a small school of fish traveling together.
Soon there were many of them.
Twenty-four in total.
They followed the blue-haired young man quietly, observing him with wide, fascinated eyes.
To them, this human world was still new.
The buildings, the lamps, the roads, the sounds of distant cars — everything seemed strange and interesting.
As they walked deeper into the neighborhood, people on the street slowly began to notice something odd.
A young man carrying a surfboard…
followed by a large group of unfamiliar girls.
Some pedestrians stopped walking.
Others whispered among themselves.
"Is that… a group performance or something?"
"Why are they following that guy…?"
The blue-haired young man began to feel the weight of those stares.
He frowned slightly and glanced around.
Why are people looking at me like that…?
Confused, he slowly turned his head.
Then he looked behind him.
And froze.
Standing there… only a few meters away…
were many girls.
All staring at him.
All silent.
All tilting their heads slightly in curiosity.
"…What?"
His eyes widened.
His brain tried to process the situation.
Had they been there the whole time?
"…Wait."
His expression immediately shifted from confusion to irritation.
He spun around completely.
"Why are you all following me?!"
he exclaimed, his voice filled with frustration.
The street suddenly became very quiet.
The shark girls looked at each other.
Their reactions were strangely innocent.
A few of them tilted their heads to the side.
Others blinked slowly.
One of them whispered softly to another.
"…Did we do something wrong?"
Another one simply looked back at the blue-haired young man with pure curiosity, as if his reaction itself was the interesting phenomenon.
Their expressions were completely sincere.
No hostility.
No embarrassment.
Just simple, naive confusion.
The young man stared at them for several seconds.
His anger slowly drained away, replaced by exhaustion.
"…You've got to be kidding me…"
He rubbed his forehead with one hand.
It was already evening.
He was tired.
And arguing with twenty-four clueless girls did not sound like something he had the energy for.
With a long sigh, he turned back toward the road.
"…Whatever."
His shoulders dropped slightly in resignation.
"If you're going to follow me, then at least stop standing in the middle of the street."
The shark girls brightened immediately.
They obediently followed him again.
Soon they arrived in front of a large seaside dormitory building.
The blue-haired young man pushed the gate open and stepped inside.
Then he paused.
He glanced back one more time.
Twenty-four pairs of eyes stared at him expectantly.
Another deep sigh escaped his lips.
"…Just come in already."
And like curious visitors entering a new world, the shark girls quietly stepped inside the dormitory.
None of them fully understood what they had just done.
But for some reason…
being near this blue-haired human felt strangely comforting.