Anatoly had delivered the mermaid the previous night, but Celtigar only discovered its existence after he got out of bed and went into the living room, where it had been dropped off. Anatoly must have used the one-time passcode he’d given him—the alarm hadn’t gone off. Excellent, he thought. Good old Anatoly.

Fascinated, Celtigar circled the box. Contrary to his expectations, it was large and “coffin”-shaped—a word he’d learned a couple days ago. It referred to a kind of sealed wooden container used for dead bodies. The coffin before him had been wrapped in a thick and flexible black material. It looked like a lump of raw matter of unknown use and origin in a factory.

Celtigar reached out a forelimb with a sharp point, which was well-suited for the task of slitting through the packaging. His two appendages and his other, duller forelimb were busy unwrapping the box. He realized as he did that the packaging materials were quite soft. It emitted a strange warmth when he put his weight on it. Celtigar saved the packaging to make a nest the next time he molted. It would be great for cushioning his weak and heavy body after he molted, and he could burrow into it until his new skin grew in.

He was careful with his incisions as he peeled it off, fearing that he would ruin it.

Once he’d removed the packaging, Celtigar discovered that there really was a coffin inside—one wrapped in a thin, gray insulation film. But it wasn’t made of wood. Instead, it was made of glass. Celtigar used his sharp forelimb to tap all over it. The feedback he got was the same—a rhythmic vibration. It was indeed glass, and of a high quality to boot, because the waveforms were well-formed, with drawn-out echoes.

Celtigar stripped away the flimsy insulation film. All he had to do was poke a hole, tug ever so slightly, and the entire thing came away.

Then—wow.

Wow.

Unable to hold back, Celtigar pressed all four limbs to the glass. His eyes lit up. He wanted to memorize every detail of the mermaid, even if it was still sleeping and hadn’t yet opened its eyes. Anatoly had been right. Mermaids were truly beautiful. Its hair was raven-black, its skin alabaster; other than the lips, nothing protruded from its flat face. Mermaids didn’t have the sexual characteristics of humans. It didn’t have an Adam’s apple, nor did it have breasts. It looked like a young child, but even more beautiful, because from the waist down to the tip of its tail, it was covered with delicate green-gold scales.

Wow. Celtigar tapped on the glass with a forelimb. The pretty waveforms echoed back, making him even giddier. He blinked. The scene before him refreshed: there was a small, lovely mermaid in the glass coffin. It hadn’t yet woken up, but it looked angelic and frail. It was naked. Other than the long hair flowing over its shoulders, nothing covered its human half.

At the time of the transaction, Anatoly had told Celtigar that the mermaid could only stay in the coffin—he’d actually called it a package, making Celtigar think that the mermaid would come in a plastic box—for three days, at most. After that, it had to be transferred to a fully equipped aquarium, or else it would suffocate in the small space. Anatoly had eyed Celtigar’s four limbs, as if doubtful that he could manage the task on his own.

“Of course I can.” Celtigar had sifted through the scattered everyday phrases that he’d recently learned. He selected a few useful words to express himself, then strung them together: “Of course I can do it! I’ll do it myself.”

Anatoly nodded. But he still told Celtigar that, if he needed help, he could get in touch.

Celtigar looked down at his forelimbs, understanding Anatoly’s doubts. They were too thin, too hard, too rough; one was too sharp and could easily hurt the mermaid. It was still a carbon-based lifeform, after all; it wouldn’t be any tougher than its land-based kin.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from the glass. He really did have to call Anatoly for help.

Finding the exotic pet trafficker wasn’t that difficult. At least, it wasn’t that difficult for Celtigar: he had his private number, where he was on-call twenty-four hours a day. Over the phone, the man said he was in the area and would be over right away. But in reality, he was thirty minutes late, because he’d encountered, in his words, “a few trifling matters.” He did indeed look ruffled: his hair was a mess, his gaze sunken, his expression exhausted, his facial hair scruffy. He looked like a vagabond and not one bit like the rich exotic pet trader that he was.

“It’s simple.” He glanced around at the disarray in the room, then turned and said, “First, we’ll have to move it next to the aquarium…”

It wasn’t a hard task for Celtigar. His forelimbs ended in pincers. He could lift something three times the weight of the glass coffin. As Celtigar lifted it, the mermaid awoke. It was trying to turn around, its bloodless white palms pressed against the glass, casting bloody shadows.

Anatoly said, “We have to hurry. It’s going to suffocate.”

Celtigar quickened his pace. His gastropod foot shuffled forward. He was even faster than Anatoly.

The aquarium was in Celtigar’s study. It was a huge installation that took up a third of the room. Made of double-reinforced glass, it was full of oxygen-rich water. There was a pump at the bottom that would periodically oxygenate the water. The mermaid had left the sea and would need oxygen-rich water to survive. Anatoly said that it was common sense for raising mermaids. As for why, he’d never understood, as his clients had never asked before. They only cared about what they had to do to keep their expensive and beautiful pets alive. Celtigar had also followed Anatoly’s instructions to install a biofilter system that would ensure the water was fresh and clean. The mermaid ate only fresh seafood. It couldn’t leave the water, so he couldn’t open the aquarium, otherwise it would die. He’d also had to create a secluded area in the aquarium for the mermaid to excrete in.

Celtigar had meticulously followed every requirement. They had been costly and complicated, but he hadn’t minded going out of his way a little to properly care for such a small, beautiful, mysterious, and weak creature.

Celtigar placed the glass coffin before the aquarium door. Then, he opened the door. The mechanism just past the door ensured that water wouldn’t immediately flow out—only after three minutes would any water seep through. Anatoly, who’d kept behind him, opened the glass coffin. He swiftly hauled out the mermaid, held it close to his chest, and shoved it inside. It seemed as if he were struggling to cast some deep-sea creature off of himself.

Celtigar watched from the side, surprised. He hadn’t thought Anatoly would be so rough with the mermaid. If you heard Anatoly talk about his business, you’d think that mermaids were his life. Done with his task, Anatoly huffed and slammed the aquarium door shut. He turned and explained himself to Celtigar.

“That’s the fastest way,” he said, gesturing. “You know. I told you, they can’t stand air.”

It was true. Anatoly had emphasized that over and over again: mermaids couldn’t stand dryness or air. They’d die without water, so he couldn’t let it leave the aquarium. And you couldn’t let their heads rise above water. They shrieked terribly. If you weren’t careful and let your mermaid’s head come out of the water, you’d have to push it back under and teach it not to do that again.

Celtigar nodded, understanding.

“Go ahead and turn on the power,” Anatoly said. “You can start up the aquarium now.”

Celtigar used his sharp forelimb to flip a switch on the wall. A pale blue light rose from the depths of the tank. The biofilter began to run. Kelp, artificial coral, shells, a large, hollow reef in the middle for the mermaid to hide in, and even a lush, living, red sea-willow coral were all inside. Pearls and gems rested on the sandy substrate, toys for the mermaid. Anatoly had recommended a sunken treasure chest as a decoration, but it didn’t suit Celtigar’s tastes. The immigration enforcement bureau had required all non-residents to take the course Earth’s Inheritance: Our Shared Culture. In it, he’d learned about an age-old author from Earth named Hans Christian Andersen and the fairytales he’d written. He hadn’t quite cared for the former, but he definitely cared for the latter.

The fairytale was called “The Little Mermaid.” The young, beautiful mermaid’s flower garden had left a strong impression on him: round like the sun, planted only with red flowers—ignore the sculpture of the prince in the garden. In any case, it was an otherworldly ocean garden. So he’d arranged a similar scene for his mermaid: round, filled with red plants, like a sun. Because it was the Little Mermaid.

Once it had squeezed past the complicated channel into the aquarium, it swam around at a loss. Celtigar was infatuated, to the point where he didn’t notice Anatoly leaving quietly, or scribbling a note with his number and a reminder that, for the house call to help him transfer the mermaid to the tank, he’d have to charge him a service fee. It wasn’t too much, but wasn’t trivial, either.

The price was worth it. Definitely worth it. Celtigar used his forelimbs to tap a friendly message on the glass, hoping that the mermaid would understand. The mermaid swam about, brandishing its pale arms in the water as it kicked off with its tail. Its expression had a heartbreaking charisma to it.

Celtigar thought it might be anxious. But that’s normal, he thought.

He’d give it some food. Celtigar inched over to a small refrigerator by the aquarium. It was packed with fresh salmon, sweet shrimp, and shelled clams. He gathered some salmon with his forelimbs, thought for a moment, then grabbed a box of sweet shrimp as well.

He returned to the tank and pushed the food into the feeding slot. The fish and shrimp slowly floated down to settle in a large shell, piling up like a dish plated at a restaurant. But the mermaid didn’t eat. It only stared at Celtigar with its blue eyes. Its face seemed to be twitching, as if it were crying. It’s feeling really anxious, Celtigar thought.

But it was still beautiful.

Celtigar was usually focused as he worked, but lately, he hadn’t been. Or rather, he was unable to focus. He was always impatient to see his little mermaid. It swam in the water, pressing its white palms against the glass, or running them along its body. It poked its head out from the sea-willow, its soft blue-black hair floating in the water, like a rare and mysterious kelp. It would cup the gems and pearls in its hands, then release them so they drifted soundlessly back down to the sand. Ah—gorgeous.

Such a small, frail thing.

Unlike his peers, Celtigar was friendly and mild. He was very willing to share his happiness with his friends—who were almost all humans—but he couldn’t tell anyone its source: he had a mermaid. Anatoly had warned him about that. Humans typically weren’t able to raise mermaids. Only rich extraterrestrial residents who could keep a secret could have one. And telling his friends that he had money, enough to buy a mermaid, was dangerous. They’d be jealous of him.

“Jealousy” meant detachment, belittling, rejection, even hostility. All things he was very familiar with. He’d grown up experiencing such behavior. He didn’t want to be the target of jealousy ever again, so he had to be careful to guard his secret: he had a mermaid.

He put the data graph down on his desk. Gastropod undulating happily, he made his way over to the aquarium. He’d been busy making sure his assets were appreciating. The gold hadn’t yet gotten to the point where it would pay out, but his future was clear: within ten Earth years, he and his business partners would receive a windfall from Danhe Mining Corporation, headquartered in the Tiangong Development Zone. What he’d always had trouble getting in that distant, gloomy nebula, but which was easy to obtain on this blue marble…

Celtigar tapped on the glass. The mermaid followed the sound and swam over. It was smart. It knew what its owner wanted it to do. It reached out its hands and pressed them to the glass, its face coming close as well, as if about to kiss the surface. But, under the gaze of Celtigar’s two huge eyes, its lip seemed to be trembling.

“Why did you stop smiling?” Celtigar asked. “What do you need?”

It shook its head. It smiled, but the expression seemed forced.

“Why did you stop dancing?”

Celtigar liked to see it smile. It was supposed to be smiling and dancing. He turned on the sound system. A song with a simple but upbeat melody flowed from the walls. The notes floated through the air, passed through the reinforced glass, and dissolved in the water.

The mermaid began to dance. With a forced smile, it waved its small, pale hands. Its stomach swelled, as if there were a balloon hidden inside. Whenever the mermaid had to do something complicated in the water, its stomach would puff up. It was an interesting phenomenon. Celtigar wanted to poke the bump.

So he opened the feeding slot and stuck his regular forelimb inside. It was rigid, but it wasn’t sharp; it looked more like a long stick.

Celtigar felt the warmth before he registered the water. Anything warm disgusted him. He didn’t like to come into contact with water, especially warm water, but, to touch the mermaid, he could suppress his disgust.

He reached his limb out in the water, then kept reaching. The mermaid looked at it and stopped dancing. It swam over, then held it.

Wow.

It was really smart. It was treating Celtigar’s limb as if it were a toy. It wanted to pull apart the thing in front of it, as if cracking open a shell or a treasure chest.

Celtigar immediately forgot how much he disliked warm water. The mermaid’s soft fingers and the tactile sensation of the pressure of its weak touch on his limb—it was a great feeling, so much so that it could assuage the disgust that was twisting through him like a hook.

Then, a pure, double-ringed wave surged forth, followed by another, and another, and another, endlessly. It meant happiness. To feel happy from such a carefree touch was quite a miracle to Celtigar: his limbs were hard and had only a few touch receptors. For there to be enough stimulation for him to feel happiness was no easy feat.

The mermaid began to gnaw at Celtigar’s arm. Of course, it was no use, but Celtigar basked in the waveforms. Delighted and curious, Celtigar reached his arm out more. Now, he could poke the mermaid’s belly. It couldn’t be more vulnerable of a spot. So he watched as his black arm jabbed into the mermaid’s pale stomach.

The swell immediately caved in.

The mermaid let go of Celtigar’s arm. Its face was contorted with pain. It darted away to hide, swimming into the coral reef.

Celtigar didn’t care much at first. But a couple days passed, and the mermaid was still hiding in the coral reef, refusing to come out. He couldn’t help but be worried, so he got in touch with Anatoly and told him what happened.

Anatoly told him casually that it wasn’t anything serious. When the mermaid was hungry, it would come out again. It was a very simple creature; he didn’t have to be concerned about whether it would resent him. It had no capacity to.

“Really?” Celtigar asked. “But when it hid, its face seemed very pained.”

“If there’s no other way, you can shock the water,” Anatoly said. “Just once is enough. Tell it that you want it to come out. If it doesn’t come out, then put the shocking device into the water. Turn it on, count to three, then turn it off. It’ll come out.”

“Shocking device?”

“I can sell you one,” Anatoly said swiftly. “I can also show you how to use it.”

“Great,” Celtigar said.

The shocking device was fantastic—Anatoly not only got the mermaid to come out, but also showed Celtigar how to use the shocking device to train the mermaid.

The little ball stayed in a corner of the aquarium. He could use the switch on the wall to adjust the strength and duration of the shock to whatever he pleased. But he almost never used it, because the mermaid had already become quite obedient after Anatoly’s training demonstration. No matter what Celtigar did, it wouldn’t try to escape, and it would always be smiling. When Celtigar took a step closer and began to tap on the glass to teach it how to signal with him, it learned very quickly as well, even if its fingers couldn’t tap out as resonant of a sound as Celtigar’s limbs. It was even less able to mimic the subtle tremors, but seeing such a beautiful creature’s fingers dancing on the transparent glass was a joy in itself.

It was then that he realized he’d never given the mermaid a name that was befitting of its beauty.

Andersen hadn’t named the mermaid in his story. The mermaid didn’t have a soul; it hadn’t needed a name. But Celtigar’s mermaid was different. It was obvious that it had a soul. The proof was in the way it stared with rapt attention at the tablet Celtigar held in one arm, as if it understood what it was looking at.

So Celtigar pulled up some photos of the ocean for it to look at. But the mermaid had no interest in them. It was more interested in the cities on land. But the thing it enjoyed the most was the news, particularly about crime. It would enthusiastically watch those broadcasts.

“Do you like this?” Celtigar asked.

There was an AMBER Alert on the screen. The neighborhood had put out the alert half an hour earlier about a missing human boy. Celtigar tapped on the screen. A robotic female voice sounded:

“Missing boy! According to the District Seven police report, the victim is Kevin Winter, eleven years old, five feet three inches tall, White, with a slim build, black hair, and blue eyes. The suspects are Klein Lee, forty-three, Asian; Anatoly Mikhailov, twenty-seven, Caucasian. Vehicle: a stolen, old-style gas-powered car. Last seen: near the Rovenor Freeway. If you have any leads, please call the police.”

After the text, there was a photo and a five-second-long hologram, probably copied from the boy’s ID. Celtigar pressed the broadcast button. The hologram of the boy Kevin seemed to jump out from the screen. He noted the boy’s comically pointy nose and pale cheeks.

The mermaid covered its flat face. It didn’t nod, but it didn’t shake its head, either.

“I don’t think you like this,” Celtigar said cautiously as he looked at it. “You don’t look so good.”

The mermaid lowered its hands. It had a funny expression on its face, as if it were smiling, but mostly as if it were crying. Celtigar had no idea what the mermaid was trying to express.

It gestured to the glass. The mermaid didn’t have nails, so it could press the entirety of its fingers up to the glass, forming black circles with soft edges. It opened its mouth. Celtigar looked inside: there were two rows of small, white teeth behind its lips, and its sharp tongue wriggled in the middle, with pink gums on either side. It seemed to be crying, but Celtigar couldn’t see tears.

“What do you want?”

Celtigar tapped on the glass. It tapped back. To be precise, it knocked its head against the glass. But it was clear that each couldn’t understand what the other was trying to say. They could only look at each other. Celtigar was bewildered—the mermaid was sad. Upon seeing its sadness, he became only more perplexed: What could cause it such sorrow here? He pondered the question.

Slowly, rainbow halos appeared in Celtigar’s eyes.

“I think I understand,” Celtigar said to the mermaid. “You’re not happy.”

The mermaid nodded forcefully.

Celtigar fell silent. The halos in his eyes grew larger.

“You don’t want to be here.”

The mermaid nodded vigorously. Its expression was eager, as if trying to curry favor with him.

As the halos expanded, Celtigar’s eyes brightened. He sighed deeply. An electric current ran up his back.

“But if you leave the water, you’ll die.”

The mermaid shook its head so hard it nearly stopped breathing.

The halos occupied all of Celtigar’s eyes now. They were like two platters of diamonds. Then, his sight shut down.

He was going to molt. It was the worst time to, earlier than he’d expected.

Based on Celtigar’s size, it would take him three Earth days to molt entirely, seven days for a full recovery. Within that time, he’d have to stay in the nest until his new skin came in. But he hadn’t yet constructed a nest, and he didn’t have anyone to take care of the mermaid during that time. He’d kept his secret well. No one knew that he had such a creature in his home.

Except Anatoly. He came to mind immediately. Celtigar would just have to give him some money… as long as he was paid, Anatoly could do anything. Celtigar wasn’t short on money. At least, not money he could use legally on Earth.

But—

“No, I can’t.” Anatoly’s voice was panicky over the phone. “I can’t help you. Celtigar, I’m in trouble. Right, hide your pet, or kill it. Quick! Or else we’ll all be in trouble!”

“What?” Celtigar asked.

“Get rid of it!” Anatoly yelled. “Somewhere no one knows about!”

Celtigar wanted to ask more, but Anatoly had already hung up.

All right then…

All he could do was bear the discomfort of the electricity running up his back as he once again started up his vision. Fine electric currents flowed to the tips of his limbs, making his whole body itch. He was swelling, but his skin constricted him. He really wanted to tear himself out of it. Then, he’d be more comfortable. His eyes were also sensitive: the halos blurred his vision, and wherever light fell, the reflections would pierce his eyes.

He tried to get in touch with Anatoly again, but he couldn’t get through. He had no choice but to sigh. Through his hazy vision, he saw the mermaid slamming its head and hands against the glass, heartbroken. Even when Anatoly had done his demonstration with the shocking device, it hadn’t been so heartbroken. Celtigar tapped on the glass. The mermaid twitched, then swam over toward Celtigar, its blue, childlike eyes staring sorrowfully at him.

He thought for a moment, then came to a decision that made sense to him.

“Okay. I think I have to send you home,” Celtigar said slowly. “I—with all—my might.”

The mermaid’s eyes lit up, even if the sorrow hadn’t yet retreated.

Celtigar used his limbs to knock a solemn signal against the glass. He didn’t want to use Earth language to express such a thing—it would lose its meaning. The mermaid couldn’t understand the rich information and subtleties contained in vibrations and waveforms. Such a pity. He could only say the words for his own sake.

He knocked against the glass again. This time, the message was simple: “Goodbye.” It was the one thing the mermaid could understand, the signal he’d taught it. Right away, it tapped back the same message.

It really was smart.

Celtigar tried with all his might to ignore the painful electricity coursing through his body. His organs had already liquefied into a heavy sack of juice. He squirmed his gastropod foot. His body had become heavy, so he couldn’t move very fast. Anatoly couldn’t help him. Then what was he supposed to do? Could he take the mermaid out from the tank by himself?

Nearly blind, he busied himself around the empty apartment. He needed a huge container that he could seal, but it couldn’t be so big that it wouldn’t fit into his car. He thought for a moment. Only the plastic box he’d previously used to transport gold ore samples would do. It was pretty big and seemed to be enough for a small mermaid.

Strenuously, he left the study, inched into the junk room, and hauled the plastic box out from inside. Then, with difficulty, he inched into the bathroom to fill it with water—good thing his bathroom had been remodeled to suit his needs. There wasn’t a tub inside, nor was there a sink. There was only a small faucet. After all, he still had to use water every now and then, even if it was only a little bit. Of course, this was ordinary water. But using it temporarily shouldn’t be a problem, he thought. It’ll just be a second.

He turned on the faucet. The water streamed into the box.

Once it was full, he took it back to the aquarium in the study. His eyes had now been completely blinded by the light. He couldn’t see a thing and could only tap on the objects around him to discern what they were from the vibrations they emitted. At least he had two sensory systems, or else he’d be in trouble.

The smooth floor of the study signaled to him that he had arrived. He inched toward the spot where he remembered the aquarium to be and soon bumped into something hard. He tapped it with his appendages—the glass of the aquarium. The waves it reflected back were still just as beautiful, but his heart was now heavy with grief, so much so that it was hard for him to sense their beauty at all.

All right, he was here. But where was the door? He tapped here and there, dragging along his stomach full of liquefied organs. Tap tap, tap tap. Finally, he reached the door.

He opened it.

Nothing. Then, he remembered that it was a well-sealed door—only after three minutes would it start to release water. Thwarted, he stuck a forelimb inside and brandished his pincers around until he snapped away the installation.

The water began to flow. More and more. Celtigar endured the feeling of disgust as he waited for the mermaid to slip out—or rather, to come out with the water. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d broken, but countless tremors were traveling through his skin like hooked arrows. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

But Celtigar had to bear it. He waited. Something soft would slip out. Where was it? He waited.

The water pitter-pattered onto the gray floor. It couldn’t seep out, couldn’t flow out; it could only coalesce into little lakes. How was he supposed to get rid of it? Celtigar didn’t know how to solve the problem. Whatever; he’d have the management company deal with it.

Finally. Something soft fell into his pincers. It cried out weakly as it thrashed. It sure is lively! Celtigar thought. Then, a straight line burst in. It was also wet, but Celtigar didn’t mind the feeling. It just was a dark line.

Celtigar closed his pincers. Something broke.

The line became clearer.

His distended body lurched as he changed directions. Bubbles were frothing up, some into his mouth.

He’d probably have to vomit out his internal organs. It would be terrible, but it wouldn’t be as bad as he imagined. It hadn’t gotten to the worst point yet. He could still deal with it. He tossed whatever was in his pincers into the box, then sealed it. It was an excellent box with an “outstanding” seal—a lovely, big word that was appropriate for describing the quality of the box. After all, it was made to protect gold ore samples. So Celtigar wasn’t worried that the mermaid would escape from it.

He struggled to suck in his abdomen. His gastropod foot squirmed forward on an important mission: it had to drag along a box, a skin about to split open, and a juicy, engorged body. But he only had to drag himself to the car and he’d be halfway there. The self-driving system would bring him to his destination. It wouldn’t take long.

The best thing about living in luxury apartments was that he could use the exclusive elevator. Celtigar wriggled into the elevator, then groped about blindly as he hit the button for level –1. From the twenty-seventh floor to –1, he could rest for a moment and prepare for the next leg of the trip.

He put the box on the floor. His pincers were tired.

The car had a biometric system. As soon as Celtigar walked into the garage, it pointed out its location to him. Celtigar followed the weak signal and crept around the pillars, approaching the car. He’d never thought the garage was that big before, but now, it seemed as big as the universe. He was drained. The desire to throw up his internal organs had vanished, not because he’d recovered, but because he was exhausted to the point where he didn’t have the energy to vomit.

There were already several cracks along the inside of his skin. A drop of juice seeped into a crack and mended it. Celtigar was concerned that the cracks would get larger. He couldn’t keep patching himself up.

He did all he could to haul the box into the trunk of his car. Finally unburdened, he let himself feel a moment of relief. Excellent, the next part would be much easier: he just had to get into the driver’s seat.

Hurry! He spurred on his gastropod foot. Using a forelimb to support himself, he rocked himself over. He’d never thought of getting in as an obstacle before. Sigh!

Once he finally climbed in and was properly seated, his skin began to split. He felt around to start the autopilot system and enter his destination, then curled up and tried his hardest to keep the outer layer of his skin intact. The electricity rushed chaotically through him. Now, it was ice-cold. An ice-cold rain.

As the discomfort of concentration sent tremorous rays through him, he called to mind his pet and the joy that it had brought him.

The car automatically played the music he was listening to before. A simple, cheerful tune. Oh, it was the song the mermaid had been dancing to earlier. Celtigar floated along with the highs and lows of the melody. His destination was a stretch of polluted ocean. So polluted that there were no traces of people at all, but it would offer a place for the mermaid to roost. After all, it was from the ocean. Does it understand what I’m trying to do? he wondered. Perhaps he’d explain things when it came time to.

The car glided over the ground. They didn’t encounter any roadblocks along the way. He’d soon reach his destination—judging by the map, he was simply going from the affluent and residential District Seven to the near-ghost towns along the coast, the ruins of industrial satellite boroughs. The two weren’t actually that far apart.

The car stopped by the shore, the trunk facing the jade-like sea. The beach was full of gray pebbles and trash, hell for Celtigar’s heavy and weak body on the brink of bursting. But he still had to get out of the car and complete the task he felt duty-bound to do.

He inched over, the juices churning in his body, until half his body was submerged. It was hard to describe how nasty the sensation made him feel. He couldn’t take much more. The trunk of the car opened automatically. He only had to open the box and send the mermaid off into the ocean. Then, he’d be done.

He swiftly opened the box, his forelimb groping around to take out the mermaid. Another soft breaking sound like the one he’d heard earlier. This time, the mermaid didn’t struggle, nor did it scream. How strange! Anatoly had told him clearly that if it came into contact with air, it would scream.

But now wasn’t the time to think about things like that. He put the mermaid into the ocean. For some reason, it didn’t swim. It only stopped next to Celtigar, unmoving. Celtigar nudged it, but it didn’t move, only quietly lay in the water. He felt some comfort, but he was also perplexed. Mermaids were supposed to be even livelier in the ocean, right? Why wasn’t it moving?

“Can you hear me?” Celtigar asked. “You should be able to.”

It still didn’t move. What was wrong with it? Was it scared? He pushed it firmly. Then, a wave surged forth, and it was gone.

It took only a second.

Other than the sound of the waves hitting the shore, it was quiet. Celtigar was heartbroken. He wriggled over to somewhere the waves couldn’t reach, his blind eyes facing the sea. The loss of his sight wasn’t earth-shattering. Compared to his heartbreak, it was nothing.

It had gone too quickly. He hadn’t had a chance to tell the mermaid that he only wanted it to stay here for a few days. But it had already gone. To comfort himself, he simulated a picture: his mermaid diving through the blue ocean waters, just like in the aquarium. He enjoyed the image greatly, and it gradually calmed him down. He’d have Anatoly help him find it. As long as he was paid, Anatoly could do anything. Surely he’d help him find the mermaid again.

Celtigar stood for a long time on the reef, the sound of the waves hitting the shore bringing him both pain and comfort. The sunlight wasn’t bright, so his eyes felt fine. Downcast, he thought of his mermaid. It still didn’t have a name. When he realized that, it was already too late. But he could come up with a name for it when he got it back. Maybe he could give it a human name. It had all the cleverness and traits of a human—or perhaps it was humans who were like mermaids.

The waves hit the shore. Something small washed up and bumped into a nearby reef. Celtigar couldn’t see what it was, but he heard the muffled thump it made. He guessed it was a large piece of trash.