Devon smiled resignedly, the smile of someone who realized their plans for peaceful solitude had been hijacked by an overly enthusiastic little shark. "Alright, alright, Miss Bodyguard," he said, placing his now slightly damp book on his stomach. "You win. Which story do you want to hear first from this 'dry tree skin book'?"
Shia's eyes sparkled, her fin slapping the water's surface excitedly. "The strangest one!" she exclaimed. "Tell me about... that 'understanding a woman's heart' thing! Why does it take thirty days? I can understand a whale's heart in a second. Tastes good grilled."
Devon chuckled, gazing up at the pale twin moons. "Ara ara~ that's a tough question," he began in the tone of a wise teacher. "You see, Shia, a woman's heart isn't like a whale's heart. Think of it as... a very shy pearl oyster, living in the deepest trenches of the ocean."
Shia rested her chin on the edge of the sampan, listening intently. "Pearl oyster? I like pearls!"
"Now, this oyster," Devon continued, "won't open just because you hit it. You can't force it. You have to be patient. You have to create the right atmosphere. The water has to be warm, the light has to be soft..." He paused for a moment, a wry smile playing on his lips. "...and you have to give it the right bait."
"Bait!" Shia yelped, her eyes instantly lighting up. "I'm good at bait! Sea worms? Or shiny little fish? Which do oysters like?"
"Not that kind of bait," Devon said, amused. "The bait is... words. Attention. Sometimes, you have to give it small, glittering gifts. And most importantly," he leaned in slightly, his voice becoming a conspiratorial whisper, "you have to know when the right time is to... 'set your hook'."
Shia fell silent, her brow furrowed deeply. "Set the hook... but if the hook goes in, the oyster could get hurt, right? Then how can it open?"
"That's the art of it, Little Shark Girl. The art of it," Devon replied, leaning back and closing his eyes, enjoying the pure bewilderment of his new friend.
Shia stared at him for a long time, then with one powerful and agile movement, she pushed herself up and jumped into the sampan. The small boat rocked violently, and Devon had to steady himself to avoid capsizing.
"Woah, careful!"
"I want to see closer!" Shia said, now sitting at the end of the sampan, completely unconcerned that her body was almost naked. Her clothing, consisting only of a few strategically woven strands of seaweed and a large conch shell covering her chest, revealed more than it concealed. Droplets of seawater glistened on her pale and smooth skin.
Devon was unfazed by the sight. Or rather, he chose to be unfazed. All he noticed was the fresh, fishy smell of the seawater clinging to the girl's body, a scent that reminded him of adventures in other worlds.
Shia crawled closer with the curiosity of a cat. She stopped right next to Devon and sniffed the air near him. "Hmm..." she murmured. She then brought her nose closer to Devon's arm and sniffed again, this time more deeply. "You're warm," she stated as a fact.
Before Devon could reply, Shia did something even more unexpected. With her finned fingers, she pulled up the edge of Devon's tight black shirt, and without hesitation, stuck her head inside. Devon could feel the cool, slightly rough skin of Shia's cheek, like sharkskin, making direct contact with the warm skin of his stomach.
"H-hey, Shia, what are you—"
"Sssst! I'm researching!" she whispered from inside the shirt, her voice muffled. "Why is your stomach all blocky? It's so strange. Fish stomachs are soft and smooth. Your stomach is hard. Are you storing rocks in here?"
Devon sighed, half amused, half resigned. "Those are called muscles, Shia. Not rocks."
Shia pulled her head out, her hair even messier than before. "Muscles? What are muscles made blocky for?"
"So that..." Devon thought for a moment, searching for the most absurd answer. "...so that I can store more stories in each block."
Shia's eyes widened. "Really?! Then you have... one, two, three... six! You have six stories in your stomach?! Amazing! Tell me the one from the bottom block! Is it the saddest story?"
"Maybe another time," Devon said, gently pulling his shirt back down.
Shia pouted, but her curiosity quickly turned to something else. She pointed to the turban on Devon's head. "What about that? Do you store stories in your head too?"
"You could say that," Devon replied mysteriously.
"Can I see?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's a secret."
"I can keep a secret!"
"I doubt that."
Shia puffed out her cheeks, looking very disappointed. She then lay back down on the sampan, staring up at the lavender sky with her hands behind her head, mimicking Devon's earlier pose. A comfortable silence enveloped them for a moment.
"Hey, Book Human," Shia called out softly.
"Hmm?"
"Is there... is there in that book... also a way to understand the heart... of a man?"
Devon opened his eyes, looking at the half-shark girl beside him. There was a strange vulnerability in that question, an innocence that was so pure. He smiled, this time a genuine and warm smile.
"No, Shia," he replied gently. "For that, you don't need a book."
He closed his eyes again, letting the sampan continue to drift aimlessly across the endless mirror ocean, under the silent gaze of the twin moons. His solitary adventure had just gained the most unexpected travel companion, and somehow, it didn't feel bad at all.