"Were you also caught by the 'octopus'?"
Lansi suddenly felt a sense of camaraderie with Winsor, now that both had been seized by tentacles. He asked curiously,
"Have you seen the real 'octopus'? How big is it?"
Winsor's expression changed dramatically. He looked at Lansi and said,
"That's not an octopus."
"It's not?"
Lansi paused to consider. With his limited knowledge of the ocean, he recalled stories of deep-sea king squids that fought sperm whales. So he asked again,
"Then is it some kind of squid?"
Winsor's voice grew strained.
"No."
That went beyond Lansi's understanding. He waved it off and muttered,
"Doesn't matter."
He glanced down at the seaweed tangled around his fingers, then looked back up and asked,
"You healed me, right? That must mean there's seaweed nearby?"
Winsor paused for a moment before nodding.
"You're capable, brother!"
Lansi looked at him with something like awe, as if he'd discovered a hidden treasure. "You're a healer! When I get out of here, I'm going to confuse you!"
"…" said Winsor.
He was clearly startled by Lansi's sudden declaration. After a pause, he asked,
"Are you… interested in me?"
Lansi froze for a moment.
To be fair, the black-tailed mermaid in front of him was stunning—even aligned with his aesthetic tastes. But being asked so bluntly whether he liked someone was a bit too much.
Especially considering…
Lansi looked at him quietly.
Yes, the other was beautiful. But some lingering unease about Winsor's inhuman aura made Lansi unable to open up.
Right now, his only emotion toward Winsor was simple: he wanted a partner to break out of prison with.
Lansi also didn't know if a mermaid's idea of "liking" someone was the same as a human's.
After all, "like" could mean two different things in English.
Lansi paused, then replied diplomatically:
"I don't dislike you."
Winsor studied his expression.
"You look… afraid of me."
Lansi lowered his head, unable to meet Winsor's eyes.
He was, in fact, scared. His earlier nonchalance had all been an act.
Like a child who knew he'd been in the wrong, Lansi felt guilty. Winsor had saved his life, after all. Lansi hesitated, then looked up and began,
"Sorry… I'm just used to—"
But the words caught in his throat when he saw Winsor's face again.
He froze—not because of Winsor's beauty, but because something had changed.
Winsor's facial features had softened slightly. His once-sharp contours had melted into something more approachable, and his cold demeanor had warmed.
In that brief moment, Winsor's appearance seemed to align more closely with Lansi's preferences.
The fear Lansi had once felt was gone.
Was all that just his imagination?
He looked around uncertainly.
Had he been seeing things?
How could anyone's appearance change so fast?
Lansi shook his head, brushing away the distracting thoughts.
He swam around Winsor, examining the coral wall behind him.
Inside the bones of the coral, little fish flickered with blue flame. Their dim glow blurred the boundary between inside and out, just enough to obscure the view from above.
Taking Winsor's hand, Lansi said solemnly,
"The tentacles can't get in here—for now."
"Winsor, let's break out of prison together!"
"Break out?" Winsor raised a brow.
"Exactly."
Lansi leaned close and whispered conspiratorially,
"I've been secretly digging a tunnel. I'm almost through."
Winsor lowered his eyes to Lansi's hand and asked,
"Did you hurt yourself doing that?"
"Yup."
Lansi followed his gaze, then raised his hand, saying,
"The coral behind us is diggable with effort. Once we get through, we can escape together."
Winsor glanced at his injured fingers. He gently took Lansi's hand and asked,
"Are you really strong enough to dig through that coral?"
Lansi's smile faltered.
A long silence followed.
The final layer of coral had been especially hard. He had dreamed of breaking through it, but...
He'd already cracked his nails—and failed.
Winsor's ear fins fluttered slightly.
He looked at Lansi and, with a gentler tone, asked softly:
"Is it really so bad to stay here?"
Lansi tilted his head.
"What's the point of staying?"
He flicked his tail and swam in circles.
"Being a mermaid was surprising… and the ocean is incredible… but I'm free. I shouldn't be trapped."
"But you can't even swim." Winsor pointed out bluntly."You won't make it out of the abyss in your current state."
"That's fine. I'll learn."
Lansi remained optimistic. He swam closer to Winsor and asked cautiously:
"Would you be willing to teach me?"
Winsor chuckled.
"So no matter what I say, you're just going to rely on me?"
"Can I?"
Lansi placed his webbed hands against his cheeks, cooling his flushed face. He was clearly a little embarrassed.
Winsor's smile faded into a thoughtful frown.
"If you're my teacher, I'll obey your every command.""I'll never resist!"
"Really?"
"Really!"
Winsor shook his head with a helpless expression. Then, finally, he gave a small nod.
"You agree?"
Lansi's eyes lit up with joy. He grabbed Winsor's hand and said excitedly:
"Then teach me how to swim!"
"There's no rush."
Instead of following Lansi's enthusiasm, Winsor gently rubbed his hand and said,
"You're still recovering. Rest first."
"But—"
"Okay?"
Lansi sighed, then drifted back toward the sea anemone and lay down. He remembered the promise he'd just made.
No sooner had he rested on the soft anemone than he fell asleep. His spirit sank; the earlier liveliness had been a facade.
Lansi had simply been excited to meet another mermaid—he had pushed himself too hard.
As soon as he let his guard down, he became a sick person again.
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to find Winsor outside the anemone.
Lansi gritted his teeth, sat up, and pulled out the pearls he had hidden within.
Winsor turned at the sound behind him. Pearls of all sizes spilled from the anemone and scattered across the ground.
While Winsor was momentarily speechless, Lansi pulled open the anemone's edge and said,
"Come rest here too, Winsor."
"You're inviting me in?" Winsor blinked in surprise.
"Don't you need rest?"
Lansi paused, realizing Winsor might be afraid of being crowded, and chuckled,
"Don't worry, the anemone's big. It can easily fit both of us."
Winsor hesitated, then finally accepted the offer and entered.
"Can you tell me more about mermaids, Winsor?" Lansi asked, sitting with his back against the soft walls. Through the anemone's tendrils, the deep blue sea was visible.
"There's not much to say," Winsor replied lazily."Mermaids aren't one race. You're unique."
Lansi didn't take the words to heart.
They sounded contradictory. If mermaids weren't one race, why was there a Winsor right here beside him?
"Then what about the 'octopus'? Why is it catching us?"
"Maybe it had good intentions."
Winsor leaned closer, placing a hand over Lansi's.
"It's dangerous outside."
"I don't think so."
Lansi didn't agree. He thought there was a thin line between being a "pet" and being food storage. One day, the monster might just eat them.
It was better to take initiative than to wait around.
Winsor didn't respond. He only watched him quietly.
Then he reached out and touched Lansi's stomach.
"..." Lansi.
Under Winsor's fingers, Lansi felt his stomach give slightly. Even with muscle, it was still soft.
Winsor seemed delighted. He traced Lansi's abdomen with childlike curiosity, gently caressing down toward his fish tail, his expression amused.
Lansi felt a little helpless but didn't resist. Winsor meant no harm. His touch made Lansi's tail sway instinctively—it was strangely comforting.
"Softer…"
Lansi's eyelids drooped. He was lulled by the gentle touch, drifting toward sleep.
Winsor's eyes lingered on Lansi's face. His pupils dilated, and something flickered in their depths—like a hidden current, suggestive and complex.
While studying the white mermaid's body, Winsor's fingers traced the silken-smooth skin. Fins sprouted from his tail, more closely resembling Lansi's, and even his facial features shifted subtly—adjusting to Lansi's aesthetic.
Unaware, Lansi stretched under Winsor's touch. He exposed his soft underbelly, retracted his sharp fins, and curled his tail in trust.
Winsor's gaze sharpened. His hand stroked down Lansi's stomach, gently brushing over the more densely scaled area of his tail.
Suddenly, Lansi jolted awake. He grabbed Winsor's hand.
Winsor blinked, retracting his webbed claws.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
Lansi instinctively touched the place Winsor had just caressed. He didn't know why he reacted so strongly—only that something about that spot made him feel exposed. Embarrassment crept over him.
"You can't touch me there," he said, turning his face away.
"Why not?" Winsor looked puzzled."I like your scales."
Lansi was speechless.
Maybe for mermaids, stroking scales was as natural as licking. But Lansi still felt human inside.
He shook his head and said again, more firmly:
"No touching."
Then he turned his back to Winsor, his long tail curling around him, a gossamer fin draping over his body like a blanket.
Winsor watched him for a while—then scowled, visibly annoyed.