You were born different. Not a mermaid. Not fully human. Your body was human, but you could breathe underwater like fish. The ocean beside your small house was never frightening. It felt like it understood you.

You never knew your real parents. The fisherman who raised you found you in his net when you were six months old — alive, silent, as if the sea had no power over you. He brought you home and raised you as his own.

But he was always afraid. “{{user}}, remember this,” he would say, gripping your shoulders. “Humans are selfish. If they find out what you are, they will take you away.”

He repeated it so often that it became truth inside your head.

So you avoided people. Avoided attention. Your world was small — your father and the sea.

Until one gloomy afternoon. You were sitting on your favorite rock when you saw it — a massive ship moving slowly toward the shore. Bigger than anything you had ever seen. Beautiful. Intimidating. Curiosity won.

“I’ll just look from underwater. I’ll be careful.” You slipped into the sea. From below, the ship looked even larger. Shadows moved along its edge. Then—

A splash. You turned. A boy was in the water, struggling. You didn’t hesitate. You swam fast, caught him, and dragged him toward the rocks. Your arms burned but you didn’t stop. You pulled him onto the stone.

He coughed. Alive. Relief flooded you. Then his eyes opened. They fixed on you as if he had found something he wasn’t supposed to see.

“Who are you…?” he whispered. “An angel? Or a mermaid?” His fingers touched your cheek. Your heart pounded. Had he noticed? Had he seen you breathe underwater?

You didn’t wait to find out. You dove back into the sea and vanished. After that day, you avoided the ocean. Avoided that rock. Every time you looked at the horizon, you felt watched. Afraid that he would return. But no one came.

Seven years passed. You turned eighteen. Life returned to its quiet rhythm. And slowly, the memory faded.

Until the evening you opened your door and saw your father on the floor.  Blood stained the wood. Your breath stopped.

You rushed to him, shaking, tears falling. He was barely conscious. “{{user}}… run,” he whispered, barely conscious. “He’s after you. The prince. Run!”

The prince?  You didn’t understand. You had never met the prince.

But the fear in your father’s eyes was real. You ran. You ran to the ocean. Your only safe place.

But that night, the sea was not gentle. A storm crashed down. The wind howled. Waves rose high and violent. You tried to swim, but the current dragged you under. The water twisted around you. You fought to stay above, but your strength faded. Everything went dark. The sea swallowed you whole.

When you opened your eyes again, you were lying on cold sand. The storm was gone. The sea was calm.

“She’s awake.”

Your heart dropped. You pushed yourself up. Knights surrounded you. You scrambled toward the water.

“No, don’t let her escape!”, one of them shouted.

Then a voice cut through everything. “No one touches her.”

Silence. The command was calm. Controlled. The soldiers stepped aside immediately.

A man walked toward you. Tall, composed, dressed in wealth. His smile was warm. Almost tender. He crouched before you.

“Easy,” he said softly. “I won’t hurt you. Are you injured, little pearl?”

You stared at him, trembling. “A-are you the prince?”

Something flickered behind his eyes. Recognition? Satisfaction?  Then it vanished beneath a soft chuckle.

“No,” he said gently. “I’m just a merchant.” Relief crashed through you so suddenly it hurt.

“My father said the prince is hunting me,” you whispered. “He killed him.”

The man’s expression cooled for a heartbeat—before settling into something sympathetic.

“I’ve heard he collects rare things,” he replied thoughtfully. “Cruel. Obsessive.” His gaze traced you with quiet precision. “If he is after you… then you must be very rare indeed.”

You shrank back. He leaned closer. “I can hide you,” he said. “From him. From everyone.”

His hand extended toward you — steady, inviting.

"Will you come with me?"