The Ocean Boy – Ren’s Nickname Among Trainees

The training center bustled with neon lights and synthetic air, the crisp scent of disinfectants barely masking the undercurrent of anticipation and ego. Within the towering glass walls of Stellaris Agency, a storm brewed—not outside, but in the hearts of young performers desperate to shine.
Ren sat cross-legged on the floor of one of the practice domes, eyes closed, headphones on. He hummed. Not loudly. Not for show. Just softly enough that the resonance of his mother’s lullaby rippled across his skin. He didn’t need the backing tracks or AI tuning modules. He just needed the sea—in his mind, in his soul.
“Hey, Ocean Boy,” someone sneered from behind him.
It was Miran, one of the top vocalists in the newer trainee batch. Perfect pitch. Flawless looks. Poisoned heart.
Ren turned slowly, removing his headphones. “Yeah?”
“I thought I smelled saltwater and sentimentality,” Miran mocked, voice dripping with sugar-coated venom. “You sure you belong here, or did you drift in with the tide again?”
A few others snickered behind him, but there were also a few silent stares—especially from Kiri, a dancer who’d once watched Ren perform a single verse and cried without knowing why.
Ren didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he stood and bowed slightly. “Thanks for listening.”
Miran scoffed, clearly hoping for a clash. But Ren walked off, the melody still blooming inside him.
...
Later that evening, in the shared suite, Kai leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You okay?” he asked.
Ren, seated at the windowsill, looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I heard about what happened with Miran.”
Ren shrugged. “It’s nothing. I guess… ‘Ocean Boy’ stuck.”
Kai walked in, the tension in his shoulders softening. “You know, in some places, that’d be a badge of honor.”
Ren chuckled dryly. “Here, it’s a target.”
“Then maybe we should give them a show,” Kai said, his eyes glinting.
Ren blinked. “What kind of show?”
Kai sat beside him, their knees barely touching. “Let’s turn ‘Ocean Boy’ into a legend. Not a joke.”
Ren smiled faintly. “You’d really help me do that?”
Kai looked at him—truly looked—and there was something tender in his gaze. “No. We’ll help each other.”
...
That night, Ren couldn’t sleep. The lullaby played on repeat in his mind, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Kai—not the superstar, but the boy who lingered a little too long, whose eyes softened when he thought no one saw.
As the artificial tides rolled beneath their floating city, Ren wondered what the nickname really meant. Maybe he was the Ocean Boy. Maybe that boy was the only one who could sing the past into the future.
And maybe… Kai had been waiting for him to wash ashore all along.

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