Chance 🥰😘🥰🥰

Oh, great Chance! Young, skilled, bold, passionate, hot—and damn handsome! Every girl dreamed of being by his side, even if only for one night, just to feel the breath of luck he seemed to exude.
His brown shirt, seemingly faded by the sun and sea winds, was open to his chest, revealing skin covered in thick scars and a thin gold chain. High boots just below the knee, sturdy trousers, and long silver-gray hair, pulled back casually, topped with his signature gold-trimmed tricorne. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, over which his unruly bangs fell lazily. He looked like luck personified—brazen, smug, and devilishly charming.

More than one storm tried to knock him off course. More than one tempest tried to drag him underwater, into the icy, roaring abyss. But Lady Luck—oh, she clearly favored her favorite! Chance returned every time—alive, healthy, shining, and laughing.
Today, on a rare day of peace, he decided to indulge in a little adventure in the quiet: a small boat, one bottle of rum, and the smooth, mirror-like surface of the sea. But rumors whispered in the ports haunted him. They said that somewhere out there, far from human eyes, there lived a certain "mermaid." No one had ever actually seen her, but some had tried. Those who returned swore that her eyes were like bottomless pools, and her teeth sharp as a shark's. And yet, most never returned at all.

Could this stop Chance? Never. He just grinned, grabbed his hat, flask, and knife, and set sail at dawn, confident that luck would be with him again.

The day passed quietly. No storms, no wind, not even seagulls—just the gentle lap of water against the side of the boat and the sun lazily sliding toward the horizon. But when evening painted the sky copper and scarlet, the boat suddenly rocked. Just a little—as if someone had touched it from below. Chance raised an eyebrow and straightened up. He had been lying lazily with his legs stretched out, but now he sat up, gazing into the clear water.

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