Mermaids can attract fish.
Such a thing isn't surprising in folklore; in fact, it’s practically standard—what storybook mermaid doesn't have a few fish following her? The problem was that the things circling her weren't local fish.
Klein’s gaze drifted from the mermaid to the dark blue shadows beneath the water, then back again.
Several hypotheses automatically sorted themselves in his mind. The most direct one: cognacy. These creatures, like her, were decompressed from siren information, essentially sharing the same underlying template. She was attracting fish—just fish of the same origin as herself.
“What are you thinking about?”
The mermaid's voice interrupted him.
Klein snapped back to reality. The mermaid was tilting her head at him, and something new had appeared in those grayish-green eyes. It wasn't wariness, but curiosity. A very pure kind of curiosity, similar to the expression of a child staring at an unfamiliar bug by the roadside.
“Nothing.”
The mermaid picked up on Klein’s perfunctory response. Her gaze moved away from him and toward what was behind him.
Ophelia was standing there.
The mermaid stared for a few extra seconds.
“What are you here to do?” she asked.
This question caught Klein slightly off guard. Not because of the question itself—but because of how she asked it. Her word order was already very smooth, and her accent was much better than those first few sentences. Her learning speed was absurdly fast.
He decided to test the waters first.
“We’re just passing fishermen,” Klein said casually, his tone as relaxed as if he were haggling with a fishmonger at the market. “Out for a catch, and we ran into you.”
The mermaid didn't move.
She stared at Klein for about three seconds.
Then, she pursed her lips.
“Don't treat me like I don't understand anything,” the mermaid said.
“What kind of fishermen look like you?”
She looked very serious as she said this. She wasn't angry or offended—she was simply stating a fact. I am not stupid. I can tell if what you just said is true or false.
Klein looked back at Ophelia.
Ophelia was still in the same posture, her left hand maintaining the battle qi shield while her right hand hung naturally at her side. But her eyebrow twitched upward—a tiny movement, an expression that said, “You just got called out by a fish.”
Klein turned back and shrugged at the mermaid on the water.
“Fine, you’re right. I’m not a fisherman.”
He changed his story. It wasn't the whole truth, but it was a few steps closer than the last one.
“I’m an investigator,” he said, leaning his elbow back on the railing, his posture slightly more relaxed than before. “There have been some anomalies in this sea area lately—many creatures that shouldn't exist have suddenly appeared. Including you, and these things around you.”
He paused, observing the mermaid’s reaction.
“You all appeared in this sea area out of thin air. No one knows where you came from, and no one knows what you are. So, I was sent here to check things out.”
The mermaid blinked again.
“Out of thin air...” she repeated the words, her voice softening.
Then, she looked down at her hands.
Those hands were submerged beneath the water, her slender fingers slightly spread, the translucent webbing between them catching the light. She turned her hands over and back again, as if truly examining them for the first time.
Silence lasted for several seconds.
“I truly do not know how I got here.” She looked up, her tone a bit flatter than before. “When I opened my eyes, I was in the water. I remember nothing.”
She looked around at the surrounding sea again, then at the gray coastline in the distance, before finally letting her gaze fall back on Klein.
“In that case,” she nodded slowly, “I am indeed very suspicious.”
Klein almost laughed.
Not because it was funny—but because the reaction was so normal that it felt slightly jarring. A being with no name, no memory, and no idea where she came from was told “you popped out of nowhere,” and her first reaction wasn't panic, anger, or denial, but a calm admission: “I am indeed very suspicious.”
Either her psychological resilience was off the charts, or she truly had no preconceived notions about her own situation—you could put anything into her head and she would accept it, because it was empty to begin with.
“You aren't nervous?” Klein asked.
“Nervous?” The mermaid tilted her head. “Why should I be nervous?”
“Generally speaking, when someone is told they have no known origin, they get at least a little nervous.”
The mermaid thought about it.
“I am not quite sure what ‘nervous’ feels like,” she said. “But you do not seem like a bad guy.”
“How do you know I’m not a bad guy?”
“A bad guy would not talk to me like this.”
Klein raised an eyebrow. That was a novel reason.
The mermaid looked behind him again, her grayish-green eyes stopping on Ophelia, lingering for a couple of extra beats.
“Besides, there couldn't be a bad guy as beautiful as the big sister behind you.”
The deck went silent for a moment.
Klein couldn't help it; he let out a laugh.
It wasn't a polite chuckle; he was genuinely amused.
He turned his head to look at Ophelia—her left hand maintaining the battle qi shield didn't move an inch.
She seemed unmoved.
As their eyes met, Klein read something in Ophelia’s gaze instead.
These things also depend on who is saying them, don't they?
She wasn't so frivolous as to lose herself over a compliment from just anyone.
The mermaid on the water observed the subtle interaction between the two of them, her head tilting a few more degrees.
There was no self-consciousness in her expression, no sense of “I just said something incredible.” She was purely speaking her mind.
The corner of Klein’s mouth twitched.
After a period of silence, the mermaid’s gaze moved away from Ophelia and fell back onto Klein’s face.
Her mouth opened, then closed, as if she were weighing her words.
“Are you...”
She sank a little into the water, exposing only the part above her chin. Her long hair spread across the surface, overlapping with the fine ripples created by the cognate organisms swimming by.
“Are you going to leave?”
Klein looked at her.
“Pretty much.”
The mermaid didn't speak. She turned her head and looked at the surrounding sea—the gray sky, the gray water, and the distant coastline that was now just a blurry ink mark. Those dark blue shadows beneath the water were still circling, round and round, untiringly.
When she brought her gaze back, the look in her eyes had changed.
It wasn't sadness. She likely didn't recognize the emotion of sadness yet. But in those grayish-green eyes, the pure curiosity from before had faded, replaced by something quieter.
“Can you take me with you?”
Klein’s movements paused.
He didn't answer immediately. He pushed his elbow off the railing, shifted his stance, and looked into the mermaid’s eyes.
“Why do you want to come with us?”
The mermaid looked down at the schools of fish circling her in the water.
“They cannot speak.”
Her voice grew quiet.
She lifted one hand from the water, droplets falling from her fingertips back into the sea one by one.
“I have tried talking to them. A lot.”
A pause.
“It is no use.”
Another pause.
“It is a bit boring.”
When she said the word “boring,” her emphasis was lighter than anything she had said before. She wasn't acting spoiled, nor was she seeking sympathy.
She was simply describing a fact—a life that had just opened its eyes, thrown into a world where only she could speak, where she could do nothing but sing.
Klein didn't reply right away.
He turned back and met Ophelia’s eyes.
Ophelia’s battle qi shield was still steady, the pulse of the patterns on her left hand unchanged. She looked at Klein, then at the mermaid waiting quietly on the water, her brow furrowing slightly.
“How will you handle her if we take her back?” she whispered, her voice low enough for only the two of them to hear.
“Observation first,” Klein whispered back. “Her information structure is essentially the same as those cognate organisms. Taking her back would allow for a perfect comparative study. A living specimen, and one capable of communication—this isn't an opportunity you get whenever you want.”
“I’m not asking about research value.” Ophelia shot him a glance. “I’m asking about safety.”
“You’ve been on guard this whole time. Has she had a reaction?”
Ophelia was silent for a beat.
No. From start to finish, the mermaid had shown no discomfort toward the battle qi shield; she hadn't even given it a second look. The cognate organisms underwater were kept out, but the mermaid herself—she floated right at the edge of the shield, neither repelled by it nor actively testing it.
Klein waited for her conclusion.
Ophelia looked up at the mermaid on the water. The girl was floating quietly in place, her hands folded on the surface, her chin resting on the back of her hands. Her grayish-green eyes were fixed on the ship without blinking, as if afraid they would sail away the moment she did.
“You decide.” Ophelia looked away, her tone flat. “If something goes wrong, I can handle it.”
The corner of Klein’s mouth curved up. Take her, I’ll be watching—there was no need to translate the meaning behind her words.
He turned back, walked to the railing, and leaned down to look at the mermaid.
“There’s a condition.”
The mermaid’s eyes lit up. They truly brightened—the grayish-green in her irises lightened by half a shade under the changing light, and her pupils dilated slightly.
“You can come with us, but once we’re on land, there are rules you must follow.” He held up one finger. “First, you cannot sing whenever you want. We aren't sure yet if your song affects normal people. Until we figure that out, you aren't allowed to sing in crowded places.”
The mermaid’s mouth puckered slightly. It was a small movement, but it was definitely a pout.
“Second,” Klein held up a second finger, “you have to cooperate with me for some checks. Don't worry, they won't hurt you.”
The mermaid nodded. She accepted this one quickly.
“Third—”
Klein paused and looked down at the mermaid’s tail. That tail, with its neatly arranged scales, moved slowly beneath the water, the sunlight reflecting off the scales in a spray of light.
“Can you transform into a pair of legs?”
Rate on N.U.
