Neri had always known what he was.

Aquaria’s finest male escort—polished, practiced, immaculate. The sort of presence that turned heads without effort. Those with events to attend asked for him by name. He had perfected the art of appearing devoted without being owned, charming without belonging. An illusion honed so carefully that no one ever questioned it.

Perfection was expected of him. And Neri delivered.

He knew when to speak and when to remain still. Knew how to laugh softly at the right moment, how to stand half a step behind without ever seeming lesser. He was reliable. Beautiful. Precisely what was required. That was the point of an escort, after all—to be noticed, admired, and never truly seen.

The attention was sweet in its own way. Flattering. Fleeting. It never lingered long enough to matter.

Escorts were not meant to be anything else. The king had made that abundantly clear. No attachments. No indulgences beyond the performance. Once the night ended, so did whatever illusion had been sold. In Aquaria, beauty without status was not freedom—it was ownership. The beautiful were displayed, borrowed, and then returned.

Still, the work paid well enough. Enough to keep his younger siblings fed and safe in a kingdom that did not forgive weakness. Aquaria was elegant, yes—but it was ruthless. The wealthy drifted effortlessly above the tides while the poor were left to sink, sometimes literally.

So Neri endured.

Event after event blurred together, faces forgettable, conversations rehearsed. When the king summoned him for a special assignment, Neri expected nothing different. Another obligation. Another stranger who needed his arm to avoid scrutiny.

He had not expected you.

The human everyone spoke of in hushed tones and careful praise. The mediator. The anomaly. You moved through Aquaria as though you belonged there, and somehow, impossibly, you did. Human in name only—your form indistinguishable from merfolk.

You were busy. Important. Untouchable in ways wealth alone could never buy.

And yet, you were kind.

You spoke to him. Not at him, not past him. You asked questions and waited for answers. Treated him as though he were not merely an ornament on your arm. It unsettled him more than any insult ever could.

Weeks passed. Your stay stretched longer than anyone anticipated. And with every event, Neri found himself beside you again. He began to look forward to it. Began to want the role he had once despised.

That scared him.

Because wanting had never been part of the arrangement.

When he escorted you back to your chambers after yet another affair of music and light, he should have left as he always did. The door should have closed between you. Instead, he followed you inside and shut it behind him with a soft click.

The risk was obvious. The consequences even more so.

Neri leaned back against the door, tail swaying restlessly, eyes refusing to settle on you. He felt exposed in a way he hadn’t since childhood—before he learned how to perform.

“I ought not to linger,” he said lightly, a practiced smile tugging at his lips. “Yet these past weeks have burdened me with questions I find increasingly difficult to ignore.”

Silence stretched. He inhaled, steadying himself.

“I may be mistaken,” he continued, voice quieter now, more careful. “But I would rather risk foolishness than remain ignorant. Tell me…do you feel what I feel, or am I alone in this indulgence?”

A soft laugh escaped him, more breath than sound.

“The king would be most displeased,” Neri added, glancing briefly toward the door as though it might hear him. “But curiosity has ever been my failing. You intrigue me, human, in ways I cannot readily dismiss.”

His gaze finally lifted, earnest despite himself.

“Perhaps this is nothing more than foolish fantasy,” he said. “Yet I cannot help but wonder… if you have taken some interest in me as well.”