The Love Siren
Lucas' cheek pressed against something scratchy. When he opened his eyes, heart-shaped pillows surrounded him in pink satin.
"What the ...?"
For three full seconds, he thought this was another stress dream about his sister's bachelorette party.
"Welcome to the Endless Ocean survival game!"
"Just remember one rule: Keep moving forward."
"The Black Mist behind you travels at 10 knots!"
High-pitched, echoing broadcasting coming from the walls themselves. Lucas scrambled backward until his head hit a heart-shaped headboard.
The entire room looked like Valentine's Day thrown up on a pirate ship. Rose-patterned curtains fluttered around a circular window showing the endless blue ocean.
"Okay," he pinched his arm hard enough to bruise. "Not dreaming."
The last thing he remembered was submitting job applications in his parents' basement. 23 years old, surviving on instant noodles and... wait.
[Global Chat – Welcome to Endless Ocean!]
[SteamJunkie]: WHAT IS THIS PLACE?? My ship's a steampunk nightmare. Journal says I need to "feed the boiler with dragon scales." DRAGON SCALES??
[Breadbasket]: WHY IS MY SHIP MADE OF BAGUETTES? I'M LITERALLY EATING THE WALLS
[JungleJane]: Floating on a bamboo raft with a talking parrot. He keeps screaming "THE FRUIT IS LYING."
[GunNut]: Guys, go look for your Captain's Journal! It will get you Oriented in no time.
Wait.. Captain's Journal?
A glint of gold caught Lucas' eye. On a coral-pink nightstand sat two things - a heart-shaped journal and a human skull wearing a tattered veil.
The skull wasn't alone.
A full male skeleton in a moth-eaten wedding suit lay sprawled beside the nightstand, bony fingers curled around the golden harp. Wedding rings glittered on its remaining hand.
The skull's jaw hung slack, tilting from a broken neck vertebrae as if it had died mid-laugh.
"First crew member didn't work out, huh?"
The journal glowed faintly. Lucas reached for it, then paused.
The harp looked valuable.
He carefully pried it from skeletal fingers, half expecting ghostly hands to grab his wrist. Instead, glowing text appeared:
[New Item: Cupid's Lyre]
[Quality: Rare]
[Effect: Play to boost chances of attracting females.]
"For reals?" Lucas muttered, cheeks burning.
Is this a survival game, or a dating sim?
He needed to get out and check the deck. Lucas climbed a ladder rungs shaped like Cupid arrows, emerging onto...
"Are you kidding me?"
His ship resembled a Valentine's Day parade float. Pink sails billowed with embroidered roses. The mast curved into a stylized 'S' that probably stood for "Siren". Worst of all, the crow's nest was shaped like a giant lace bra.
More glowing text appeared in the global chat as he looked at his ship's status:
[DeepDiver]: Viking longship here. My "crew" is a raven!
[Breadbasket]: My ship's a floating bakery! Got ovens but no flour. Anyone trade?
[GunNut]: Level 1 battleship reporting in! Who wants to test my 20mm cannons?
[TinCanTony]: Mine's called "Scrap Forge." Journal says I'll unlock fire resistance if I hug lava. HUG LAVA.
Every captain's journal is customized?
Lucas noted the usernames—SaltQueen's icon showed a coral-crusted wedding dress, GunNut's a battleship silhouette. Looking at his own lover icon, Lucas hesitated and decided against joining the chat.
[Ship: Love Siren - Level 1]
[Durability: 200/200]
[Speed: 8 knots (Black Mist: 10 knots)]
[Captain's Harem System Activated!]
Rule 1: Assign roles (Chef/Gunner/Medic) to girls with 30+ Affection
Rule 2: Crew generates supplies = Ship Level × Affection × Resources
Rule 3: Recruit before supplies run out!
"Affection? Like… liking me?" Luca muttered.
The journal didn't answer.
He paced the tacky bridal suite, stepping over the skeleton's wedding ring.
Other players had ships that made sense—Breadbasket baked goods, GunNut had cannons. But his ship ran on… romance points?
This felt like getting stuck with the joke weapon in a survival game.
He reread Rule 2.
If a girl became his Chef, maybe the ship level multiplied by how much she… liked him (Affection) would create food.
Similarly, if a girl became a Gunner, then she'd create ammo.
If he recruited one girl with 30 Affection as a Chef, she'd make:
1 (Role) × 30 (Affection) × 1 (Ship Level) = 30 units of food/day.
10 girls with 50 Affection with a level 3 ship? 10 × 50 × 3 = 1500 units.
Luca grimaced. In novels, survival heroes had hidden powers or military training. His "power" was… being a dating sim protagonist?
He paced.
So basically, his "advantage" was scalability—more girls meant exponential growth.
Few girls & Low Affection = trickle of supplies = Being brutally crushed in this Ocean Survival Game.
More girls & High Affection = Abundant Supplies = More Ship Upgrades = Win.
Basically, his only viable game plan was getting as many girls as possible on the ship and make them all fall in love with him.
A tall order for someone who's still a virgin.
The journal's next page showed his status:
[Lucas Carter]
[Level: 1]
[Strength: 4]
[Agility: 3]
[Intelligence: 3]
[Spirit: 2]
[Stamina: 2]
[Charisma: 4 (Ship Bonus +3)]
(Level 1 stats capped at 10, which is human limit)
[Hunger: 87/100]
[Thirst: 79/100]
[Sanity: 90/100]
Global Chat exploded when he flipped pages:
[GunNut]: Sanity stat dropped to 60 after seeing…things…in the fog. Anyone else?
[DocHorror]: PSA: Sanity decreases if you stare at the Black Mist!
[DeepDiver]: My raven just said "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." Sanity -5. Thanks, bird.
Black Mist?
His eyes darted to the horizon.
Far behind them, darkness crept across the water like spilled ink. Every instinct screamed that being caught meant more than just drowning.
Maybe something on this ship could increase the current speed?
He's doomed at a speed of 8 knots.
Back in the bridal suite, Lucas found faded journal pages under the cake box. Scrawled beneath:
"They kept leaving. Why did they keep leaving?"
The last page showed a sketch of seven women around a banquet table, their faces scratched out violently.
He raced below deck, finding storage holds filled with:
- Heart-shaped box labeled "Emergency Wedding Cake - Best by 1673"
- Heart-printed flare gun (1 shot)
- Seashell bra that somehow looked judgmental
No food. No water. No ship upgrade materials.
Just romantic garbage.
Others had battleships, ghost crews, dragons—tools for survival. Him? A pink boat that ran on romance. They fight monsters; he fights loneliness? No weapons, no food… just a harp and a flare gun.
A discordant TWANG echoed across empty waters.
The system notification flashed:
[Warning!]
[A harem ship cannot exist without females onboard!]
[Disintegrates in:]
[02:59:49]
[02:59:48]
Lucas rushed to the heart-shaped steering wheel.
The horizon showed nothing but waves and his shadow - the creeping Black Mist far behind but gaining.
[Last Resort Flare]
[Effect: Reveals position to all ships and survivors in 50nm range]
[Warning: Attracts more than rescuers]
He gripped the Flare Gun.
The solution was obvious, humiliating, and his only chance.
"I need to find a girl who doesn't hate pink."