...Where am I?

Blue and white walls bloom like seafoam and frost; strange trinkets glint like shells; is that coral—rare as a snowflake on the continent. The whole room feels warm and cute, like sunlight through gauze. Through the window, the world outside is a sheet of endless blue, like the open sea breathing.

This looks like a girl’s room?

What happened... I remember being on a ship—no, on the ocean—wait, what was I doing out there? My head spins like a compass gone mad. Right, I was trading barbs with the self-proclaimed Mermaid Queen. Then, then—argh! I shouldn’t have bragged. “One of the continent’s strongest heroes,” my foot. She gave me three free moves; I got erased in one. She came out unscratched and swam off for dozens of kilometers like a silver fish. People aren’t built the same... No, she isn’t even human.

I mouthed off, she offered three moves, and I got one-shotted. Shame stings like salt on a cut. What did she use? After that move, I felt like I’d been dumped into the ocean itself—then nothing. She... swallowed me. Bubbles and all.

Swallowed me?

So am I in her stomach?

But it doesn’t look like it. This is a careful girl’s room, tidy as fresh snow—cleaner than my sister’s mess by a league. My scatterbrained sister never cleans unless a thunderstorm chases her.

In this warm room, a long-haired girl with pale-blue hair lies by the bed like a sleeping tide. Her brows rest together, dozing; her lips murmur like a seashell’s whisper. Her features are clean and precise, her figure flawless, a statue come to life. Swap out that face and even a dull scrub could look like a title-crowned warlord. Her legs stretch smooth and full, like they were brushed in by a divine hand—an immortal walking under mortal skies. On the pink bed lies a cracked egg, the shell blue with flowing patterns like wave-marks. A tiny child pokes out their head and peeks around, cautious as a fawn.

“Mm...” The girl wakes, rubbing her eyes with a hand soft as foam. First thing, she looks to the egg—that’s her ritual every dawn. Surprise brightens her golden eyes like sun on water. After three years of no change, the shell finally cracked.

The little girl inside blinks back with bright gold eyes like twin coins. Then—

Aaaah—why is she here?! Ling Yehan jerks back like a crab hit by a wave.

Ow! Something thumps my back. I... should be dead, right? So why am I seeing her? How is this fair? I’m supposed to be a decent person, right? Maybe not heaven-grade, but I shouldn’t get hell-chains either. Even after death she’s hunting me down? I didn’t offend you that badly!

The little girl’s eyes well, heavy as storm clouds. She’s about to cry.

“Eh?” The blue-haired girl freezes, hands fluttering like startled birds. She’s never handled this. She has no idea what to do.

I look at this flustered sea-sprite about to cry, and warmth bubbles up like spring water. I even... want to laugh.

Is this really the same demon from the tales—the Wraith of the Deep who dyed the sea with blood, who kept the continent ashore for a hundred years?

Well, the first time I saw her, I jumped too. Nothing like the rumors of a giant, fanged sea fiend. She was my size, like a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl. Her voice was water-music... Argh! Being short like a girl isn’t my fault!

The “Mermaid Queen” sees her child stop crying and finally exhales, a gentle tide going out. The little cowlick on her head wobbles with the motion. She tries her most beautiful, most tender smile and looks at the baby, her gaze layered like deep water—dotting, kinship, and a faint, unnameable gleam.

It’s... how my sister looks at me sometimes. Did she mistake me for her brother? No, no—don’t be dumb. But it feels like she knows me. Nobody looks at their own child like that, right? Right? Right?!

I want to pull a smile uglier than a sob. If she doesn’t know me, she’s a creep. If she does know me... Ling Yehan doesn’t dare finish the thought. Words and sound can’t fix this.

“Qing... sheng Tangxue. Qing... sheng, Tangxue.” She points at me and repeats the words like a bell. Only later do I learn—that’s my “name.”

Does that phrase mean something special to her? If she really recognized me, will she lock me up? Brainwash me? Make me forget who I was and call her Mom with a blank smile? Aaaah! What am I thinking? No. I need to get out. I have to escape before she finds out who I really am.

This soft white layer around me—don’t tell me it’s eggshell. Are mermaids egg-layers? It’s soft under my tongue, and it smells sweet, like milk warmed by sun. My mouth moves before my brain. I lick.

Sweet! Thick with cream, like cloud-light cake that you can’t refuse. I woke starving; this soft shell is the perfect tonic. It tastes like a bakery dreamed by the moon.

Nom, nom, nom... I keep gently lapping at the shell with a tiny mouth. If the eggshell is this soft—then what did I bump into before? The hole widens, from enough for my head to peek out to a gap big enough to pull a small child free.

The girl props her chin in both hands and just watches, quiet as midnight tide. At last, she can’t hold back. She reaches in and lifts the child from the shell.

...Huh?

What was I doing? Am I trying to get myself killed? Why did I lick away my own shield? I could cry. But it smells so good... Maybe just one bite. One. Bite.

She kisses the child’s forehead, a touch light as dew, then gathers her baby into a bed almost three meters wide, like a harbor opening its arms. She holds the child to her chest and lets her eyes fall shut. She’s bone-tired; for three years she hasn’t dared to truly sleep.

Mmph—let go, I want out. Don’t hold me like that... But as an infant, I can’t make a sound. My protest turns into meaningless nuzzling, gentle waves against a sleeping shore. The girl doesn’t stir.

Dreamsound: zzz.

How did it end up like this? I guess it started back when I first met her...