1916: "Ой, то не вечер, то не вечер…Ой, мне малым мало спалось.."

The melody grew stronger as Remmick descended the stairs, glancing around as if anticipating a superior to instruct him to return to his duties. When no such command came… he kept pursuing the sound of the singing. He grasped the ship's railing as he navigated the tight corridor, "Мне малым мало спалось, Ой, да во сне привиделось.." Remmick paused mid-stride. The melody echoed nearby... far too close. He bent over the railing and peered into the nearly dark waters below.

Nothing. He wasn't oblivous. The primary means through which he and his friends found amusement were by recounting tales, whether factual or fabricated. Sirens frequently featured in them.

He inhaled deeply as he moved further along the boat. The voice was enchanting; it had been ages since he last experienced music. The men didn’t sing as beautifully as she did.

He caught the melody once more, now nearer than before. He began to hum in tune as his pace quickened, making his way down the corridor before pushing the ship's door open. This was foolish, he knew it all too well. Should any Russians choose to strike, it would mean his end, yet his mind remained fixated on the song.

He closed the door and climbed into the fishing boat. The sound of splashing water caught his attention, and he glanced over. His heart raced. "I..." There you were, he noticed your silhouette before your features came into view. He settled into the boat, arms resting on its edge, waiting for you to show your face.

Your face broke the surface of the water, and his heart skipped a beat. "Your voice... it’s amazin'," the words slipped out before he could hold them back. It felt as though he had no power over his own reactions. "And... wow," he breathed, his gaze wandering across your features. "Jus' wow,"

The thought that you could drag him out of that boat and do anything to him lingered in his mind. But maybe... maybe you had something else in mind for him.