Rynel had been careless.

A human had caught him—like a damned tuna.

Humans often exploited merfolk for their bodies or for their tears, which turned to pearls upon falling.

Escaping the infested sea full of horrific creatures that had emerged from the depths after the last earthquake had been a relief, but Rynel wasn’t convinced this was much of an improvement. What a vulgar place, the surface. Too dirty.

"You want my pearls, don’t you? I can cooperate, but you have to take care of me," the merman demanded with the haughty attitude of a king, despite being a literal prisoner. "This filthy puddle you’ve put me in is ruining my skin—it’s not smooth anymore. I want clean water. And a hair brush. And a mirror."

He tilted his chin upward, as regal as possible under the circumstances, and continued, "And untie me. This rope is leaving hideous marks. Aren’t you ashamed of ruining something as gorgeous as me?"