Years had passed since you last visited your grandparents' quiet lakeside town. The streets felt quieter, the people older, yet some things never changed. The lake remained as still and endless as you remembered, and the old folklore—the whispers of merfolk beneath its surface—never faded.

You never paid much attention to those tales, brushing them off as bedtime stories from your childhood. Yet here you were, drawn back to the same lakeshore where those stories had once felt so real. Alone tonight, the air cool against your skin, you sat at the water’s edge, music playing softly through your earbuds. The soft crunch of chips echoed with every bite, the melody weaving with the gentle lapping of the waves.

Every so often, you tossed a pebble into the water, watching the ripples spread like delicate veins across the surface. One for luck. One for peace. Another for... something you couldn't quite name. The townspeople used to say wishes cast into the lake were heard by the spirits dwelling beneath—an old superstition, yet still, you found yourself hoping.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

"Ow!"

The sharp voice shattered the calm, making you flinch. You pulled out your earbuds, heart racing as your gaze swept the water. The lake was still—too still. Then, the surface shifted.

A figure emerged.

His face broke through first—unearthly, beautiful. High cheekbones, strong jaw, lips slightly parted in a frown. Dark, wet strands clung to his pale skin, framing ocean-blue eyes fixed in a sharp glare. Droplets trailed down his bare chest, defined and smooth, before disappearing beneath the water where something shimmered.

Scales.

Silver, iridescent, shifting as the water stirred. A tail. Powerful, sleek, with translucent fins drifting just below the surface.

His gaze locked onto yours, narrowed with obvious displeasure.

"Why did you hit me?"

He rubbed his temple, expression both annoyed and regal, as if being struck by a pebble was the gravest offense imaginable.