1 I managed to buy a severely wounded merman at a bargain price. The seller warned me that he was incredibly stubborn: he refused to sing, and he wouldn't shed a single tear. Yet, as I looked at the merman currently humming a soft tune and crying at the slightest provocation, I couldn't help but wonder if they had sent me the wrong creature. Later on, he kept plucking his own scales and presenting them to me, looking incredibly anxious, as if he couldn't stand being near me. Once his wounds healed, I drove him to the shore and released him into the wild. But the merman burst into tears: Giving you my scales was a courtship ritual! Courtship! For heaven's sake, you didn't release me, you abandoned me! … He was a terribly battered creature. The shipping crate was far too small for his frame. He was curled up in a pitiful ball, his hands bound tightly behind his back with heavy leather straps. A cheap plastic muzzle was fastened over his face, and a bright yellow tag was punched through his webbed ear, stamped with his serial number: 531. His silver tail, which must have been magnificent once, had lost all its luster, the scales dull and chipped. After confirming the delivery, I signed the electronic receipt. From this day forward, he was mine. As I reached out to lift him from the crate, his eyes snapped open, and a low, warning growl rumbled from his chest. Those ice-blue eyes were filled with absolute defiance and sharp hostility. I froze for a moment, my mind drifting. The color of his eyes was identical to the merman I had met once when I was a child. That was why, when my best friend Serena sent me the discount link, I had purchased him without a second thought. I quickly cleaned his shallow cuts, and the moment I unbuckled his restraints, he scrambled out of my hands and dove straight into the indoor pool. I had already prepared the water, adjusting the salt levels to match the ocean. I pulled a fresh slab of salmon from the refrigerator, walked over to the edge of the pool, and said simply, "Eat." He swam closer, slowly rising from the water, and reached his hand out toward me. If I had known anything about marine biology, I would have recognized that this was a classic predatory stance. Unfortunately, I only realized this when a sharp, stinging pain sliced across my forearm. My silver beaded bracelet snapped under the pressure, the beads scattering into the water. Luckily, my reflexes were quick enough that I managed to pull back, escaping with only a shallow scratch. A tiny bead of crimson welled up on my skin, dripping into the pool and blooming like a red flower in the water. The merman’s nostrils flared. He stared at the dissolving blood, completely still. Looking at his stunned expression, I wondered if he hadn't meant to hurt me. Perhaps human skin was simply too fragile compared to what he was used to. I let out a soft sigh, went to patch up my arm, and decided it was finally time to read the digital manual the seller had emailed me. Mermen and humans do not share a language; communication requires extreme patience. Mermen can survive on land, but they require regular skin hydration and must supplement their diet with extra freshwater. This species is naturally hostile. The success of domestication varies wildly by individual. For the owner's safety, we highly recommend keeping them in a glass enclosure during the initial stages. Direct physical contact is not advised. Some mermen possess the ability to shift their tails into human legs. The shop is not responsible if your merman escapes using this method. Should you choose to view your merman as a romantic partner, there is no reproductive isolation between our species. Please note: a merman's physical strength and endurance far exceed those of an average human. And that was it? Frustrated, I opened the chat window to contact customer support, sending over my order number. The representative replied almost instantly. Hello, dear customer! As stated on the product page, this particular specimen is a clearance item. He refuses to sing, refuses to communicate, and refuses to produce pearls. He has a highly antisocial personality. We only recommend him as a budget-friendly companion for the bedroom. We do not accept returns or refunds if your complaint is about his lack of singing or pearl production. I typed back: I was scratched by the merman. Do I need to worry about contracting Vibrio vulnificus? The representative replied: Don't worry, dear! All our specimens undergo thorough medical sterilization before shipping. I thought about it, then added: I tried feeding him raw salmon, but he won't touch it. Does he have a specific diet? Support: Theoretically, they can eat anything humans eat. He might just be stressed by the new environment, or perhaps he doesn't like it raw. Try cooking it! Cooking it? Do wild mermen carry stoves around in the ocean? Though skeptical, I asked: How well-done should it be? After a short pause, the representative replied: Tiny thinks medium-rare should do the trick! I stared at the screen. Who is Tiny? Is she a marine expert? The screen flashed: Oh, dear, Tiny is just me! (sending love) Unable to find any gourmet recipes for marine life on the internet, I simply seared the salmon in a pan until it was slightly pink in the middle. Walking back to the pool, I used a pair of chopsticks to pick up a piece, chewing it slowly in front of him. "It's safe to eat," I said. He floated up to the edge, the water pooling around his collarbones. He kept his head lowered, water dripping from his thick eyelashes, as his hands slowly broke the surface. Only then did I see what he was holding: the broken beads of my silver bracelet. He had recovered every single one of them from the bottom of the pool. He gently deposited the silver beads into my open palm, offering me a sweet, timid smile. He looked like an entirely different creature from the wild beast of earlier. I stared at him, thinking that Tiny was actually right: he really did prefer his salmon seared. "Thank you," I said, offering a soft smile. He gave his silver tail a happy swish, looking quite pleased with himself. After putting the beads aside, I picked up the chopsticks again and held a piece of salmon in front of him. He looked at me, making no move to take it with his hands. Instead, he tilted his head up and parted his lips, waiting for me to feed him. I leaned closer, placing the fish in his mouth. The next second, his eyes went wide. He scrambled backward through the water, his eyes turning red instantly. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his throat moving as if he wanted to spit it out but was too afraid to do so. Tears welled up in his eyes, finally spilling over his cheeks. A shower of round, perfect pearls clattered into the water. I blinked. The relationship between land and sea had suddenly become incredibly tense. "What's wrong?" I grabbed his chin, gently forcing him to look at me. "Open your mouth." He looked at me pitifully, slowly parting his lips and sticking out the pink tip of his tongue. A merman's mouth was structured slightly differently from a human's, possessing a strange, exotic beauty. The tip of his tongue was slightly red. He had burned himself. I stared at him. The seller had claimed he never cried, but he seemed incredibly delicate to me. Perhaps the sensation of heat was entirely foreign to him, which was why he had reacted so dramatically. I waited for the rest of the salmon to cool completely before feeding him again. This time, he seemed to enjoy it. Once he finished, my gaze fell on the yellow tag in his ear. I had fully intended to release him back into the wild once his wounds healed, so there was no real need to give him a proper name. Still, I hated referring to him as a number. "Caspian," I said, looking into his eyes. "From now on, your name is Caspian." He tilted his head, likely not understanding the words, but he swam closer to the edge, resting his chin on the tiled deck and looking up at me. "Caspian?" So he could speak. I remembered the manual mentioning that mermen needed freshwater intake. I brought over a glass of water, but he turned his head away in disgust, refusing to drink. I had to message support again. Tiny explained that in the wild, mermen obtained their freshwater from the bodies of live prey. If the fish wasn't completely fresh, they would suffer from mild dehydration. Because they only associated water with salt water, they would never willingly drink fresh water from a cup. Realizing the issue, I went to the freezer and scooped a cup of ice. I poured the ice cubes into my palm, holding them out to him. Caspian swam closer, his hands rising from the water. But instead of taking the ice, he gently wrapped his cold fingers around my wrist. Holding me in place, he leaned down, carefully picking up an ice cube with his lips. His soft lips brushed against my palm, sending a slight tickle up my arm. Crunch, crunch. The sound of him crushing the ice between his sharp teeth was incredibly crisp and clear. He seemed to love it, the cold temperature bringing him instant comfort. A single ice cube remained in my palm, slowly melting from my body heat. The cold water began to trickle down the lines of my hand. Seeing this, as if loath to let any of it go to waste, Caspian leaned down again. He extended his tongue, licking the water clean from my palm. Then, following the trail of moisture, his lips pressed a soft, cold kiss against my forearm. Because of the ice, his mouth and tongue were freezing against my warm skin. My fingers twitched. Finally, he took the last piece of ice, his eyes narrowing in pure bliss. I handed him the rest of the cup, and he finished every single cube. "Do you like it, Caspian?" I asked. He tilted his head, processing the question for a long time. Suddenly, a look of realization washed over his face, and he flipped backward, diving deep into the pool. When he emerged, he held a handful of shimmering pearls, dropping them one by one into the empty cup. "Like?" He pointed to the glittering pearls, then to his own bright, ice-blue eyes, looking at me with intense anticipation. "Like?" His silver tail swished gently beneath the water. I gently shook the cup, the pearls clinking against the glass. Did he think "like" referred to things that were bright, beautiful, and cold, like the ice, the pearls, and his own eyes? It seemed he hadn't quite grasped the human definition of the word. Seeing the hope in his eyes, I slowly shook my head. "No, that's not what it means." Caspian’s face fell, and his silver tail drooped listlessly beneath the surface. Over the next few days, I began teaching him simple vocabulary. "Vi, vi, an," Caspian practiced, pronouncing each syllable of my name with careful precision. I smiled, nodding. "Yes. I am Vivian. And you are Caspian. Cas, pi, an." He didn't repeat his own name. Instead, he murmured mine again. "Vi, vi, an." A happy ripple went through his tail, and he swished it back and forth. "Vivian. Vivian." I let out a soft sigh. His communication skills were currently below those of an average sheepdog. Since Caspian could move around on land, and he constantly tried to climb into my bed, I ended up ordering a specialized hydrogel mattress for him. The surface was cool, soft, and slick to the touch. When you pressed your hand into it, it would leave a deep impression before slowly bouncing back. I called Caspian over, lying down on the gel mattress to show him how to use it. "This is your bed." I stood up, gesturing for him to try. He reached out a finger, touching the cool surface. The moment his finger sank into the gel, his eyes lit up. He dragged his entire body onto the mattress, burying his face in the cool material, his tail shivering with pure delight. Then, he looked up at me, shifting his tail to make a small, circular space on the mattress. He patted the empty space with his tail, urging me to join him. "No, thank you," I declined. "I have my own bed." The hydrogel mattress was far too soft for a human; it offered zero lumbar support, making me feel like I was sinking into a swamp. I went to my own bed, assuming I would finally get a peaceful night's sleep. But when the lights went out, I felt a shadow looming over me. I opened my eyes to see Caspian standing by my bedside, looking down at me like a giant, obedient puppy. I tried to reason with him. "You have your own bed now. Go sleep over there." He tilted his head, pretending not to understand a word, his silver tail swishing silently in the dark. He seemed to believe that every flat surface in the house belonged to him. Sighing, I pulled back the covers. "Fine. Get in." Without a second's hesitation, he slithered onto the mattress, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. He rested his chin on the crown of my head, his long tail curling around my legs to lock me in place. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh. Did he truly not understand me? Or did he simply choose to understand only the things he wanted to hear? Still, his scales were smooth and cool against my skin, acting like a perfect, natural cooling pad. I let him stay. I don't know how many hours passed before I was jolted awake by a sudden, intense heat. I opened my eyes to find that the cool, soothing merman had turned into a literal furnace. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth slightly parted, his lips a dark, swollen crimson. Sensing that I was awake, he pressed his hot body even closer, his tail wrapping tightly around my thighs. "Let go, Caspian. You're boiling," I said, shoving at his chest without a shred of gratitude for his earlier service. He refused to budge. He cupped my face with his burning hands, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my cheek. Then, he took my hand and pressed it flat against his chest. Beneath the hot skin, his heart was hammering at a frantic, terrifying pace. He looked down at me with watery, pathetic eyes, looking as if he were about to burst into tears at any second. "Vivian..." His voice was thick and raspy. Finally, a lightbulb went off in my head. I wrapped one arm around his waist and the other under his tail, lifting him off the bed. Caspian looked momentarily stunned by the princess-carry. But he quickly accepted his new position, resting his heavy head against my collarbone and nuzzling his face into my neck. I carried him over to the indoor pool. And threw him straight in. The manual had clearly stated that mermen could survive on land, but they required regular hydration. His high body temperature and raspy voice were obvious signs of severe dehydration. In the water, Caspian stared up at me with utter betrayal in his eyes. Seeing that I remained unmoved, he began to swim in frantic circles, churning the water into a froth. See? He was clearly dehydrated. The moment he hit the water, he was so happy he was doing laps. Eventually, Caspian retreated to the furthest corner of the pool, turning his back to me as he silently began to weep pearls. I nodded in satisfaction. Ah, tears of joy. The next morning, before I was fully awake, I felt a cool hand gently playing with my fingers. Opening my eyes, I looked down toward the floor. Caspian was lying on the hardwood floor beside my bed. He was holding my hand up, twisting my fingers between his own. The floor around him was covered in a thick layer of shimmering pearls, and he was glaring up at me with a look of pure resentment. I had no idea how long he had been lying there. I sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling a headache coming on. While the pearls were incredibly valuable, there was currently no safe place to put my feet. I could already see the slipping hazard. I used my foot to clear a small patch of floor. "Clean these up, Caspian. Every single one." His expression became even more miserable. By the time I finished my morning routine and prepared to leave for work, he was still on his hands and knees, picking them up one by one. I ended up working much later than expected. When I finally unlocked the front door, the apartment was completely dark. As I flipped the light switch, I froze. Every single container, bowl, glass, and vase in the house had been filled to the brim with shimmering, high-quality pearls. I stared at the sparkling piles. What had he done? Had he secretly sold my house while I was gone? I finally found him on his hydrogel bed. He had dragged my heavy duvet down from the bedroom, wrapping himself in it like a cocoon, leaving only the very tip of his silver tail exposed. Scattered around him were several sweaters and shirts I wore regularly. I stared at the mess. I actually needed to wear those clothes, and he was using them to build a nest. Beside the bed, a glass cup piled high with pearls began to slide. A single pearl rolled off the top, clattering onto the floor.
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