Silence blanketed the space. Numerous eyeballs focused on her like a laser array.

Perched atop the Cypod, Dea dangled her tail on one side, the scuffing noise carrying in the stillness. Her peduncle stuck out of her skirt and tapered gracefully down to her flukes, shading from grey into tan, kissed with pink. Now dry, the smooth skin glowed with a soft sheen under the room's brightness.

A plethora of gaping mouths met her gaze—one belonging to a server who stood stock still, hands gripping a tray.

Involuntary shivers quaked her form, and she resisted the impulse to thump her restless flukes. Then her eyes sought Dilip's, whose stare bored into her more forcefully than any other.

He jumped to his feet. It seemed to unfreeze the moment.

Murmurs broke out at the same time Dilip moved to her side, planting a hand on the back of the Cypod. Dea's heart leaped to her throat.

"What a realistic cosplay of a mermaid!" He smiled at the upturned faces. "I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I'm sure you enjoyed that little surprise."

When Merlingo was done translating, Dea stared at him in disbelief.

The prime minister let out an exuberant guffaw and clapped his hands, prompting the other guests to do the same. Her mind raced while she grappled to process this baffling turn of events.

"I kind of like the fish scales more than this version," Dilip said with a laugh, and several guests joined in the mirth.

Breaking out of her paralysis, Dea extracted the ogi from her waist pouch. A bout of dizziness made her pause, and she realized she forgot to breathe. Before she could unfold it, Dilip bent down, obscuring her from the onlookers. To her bewilderment, he pretended to listen to something and straightened up.

"Dea says she's not feeling too well," Dilip announced with a somber expression. "She'd be having a quiet dinner in my study."

He gestured to a man in a suit. When he drew closer, Dilip whispered a slew of instructions. Then he settled down in his seat as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

That simple motion struck her like a punch to the gut. Her grand palace, built of dreams, shook at the foundations.

She barely had time to react before two men pushed the Cypod out, one holding her upper arm firmly to hold her in place.

Squirming proved to be futile. She craned her head back to glimpse the guests being served, tendrils of steam curling up from the plates. Conversations restarted, the unexpected spectacle already receding from minds by the looks of it. Dilip didn't so much as glance in her direction.

Dea experienced a sensation akin to free fall.

Thoughts raged in her head while the two humans led her to an elevator. Dilip knew it's real. He knew it! But why did he cover it up? The unease she pushed aside now snowballed with each passing second.

One of the men pushed a button on the wall-mounted panel. While they waited, the humans released their hold, which prompted her to slither back into the Cypod.

Despite the shock, Dea had the good sense to activate the ogi's sonar to map the layout of the house—though her fumbling fingers took a long moment to turn it on. When the elevator arrived, strong hands pushed her into its claustrophobic confines.

As they ascended, she fought off a wave of panic. She was nowhere near the ocean and now at the mercy of two intimidating humans. The subtle whir of the machine and the humans' constant breathing were all that disturbed the quiet.

The elevator dinged open to reveal a hallway no different from the rest of the house. The opulence failed to offer her any comfort. When one man gave her a nudge, she jerked the Cypod out, wheels sliding on the marble.

The humans led her to a stout door and held it open for her.

Given no choice, she entered the room. She drew in a long breath while her heart hammered away in her chest. The door shut with a firm click.

It turned out to be a spacious study, draped with floor-length curtains. Photos of Dilip lined the walls, showcasing many achievements. There were also artistic shots that might have adorned magazine covers. A sturdy block of a table stood at the center, topped with pale, marbled granite. The room screamed sophistication just like its owner.

Dilip knows! He knows! Dea whirled around, and her eyes flitted to the door—as if she expected him to barge in any second and demand to know more.

A minute ticked by—and another. She succumbed to the chaos within and buried her face in her hands.

When the flurry of emotions gradually subsided to tolerable levels, she examined her surroundings again. Her frantic eyes landed on the large windows, covered with curtains.

She rushed towards them and peeked through the thick fabric. Two stories below, the garden lay cloaked in gloom, punctuated with pools of lamplight. In the distance, the cityscape glared at her in a human-made constellation. The luminous haze rendered the night sky starless with its light pollution.

Dea inadvertently focused on her own reflection. Golden eyes stared back at her, wide with fear. Her trembling hand drew the curtain back into place.

A knock sounded on the door. She wheeled around.

The pimply server from earlier poked his head in. "Miss, here's your dinner."

She merely stared at the platter in his hands, covered with the stainless steel dome of a cloche.

He ambled in and placed it on the table, emitting a dull clink.

"Can I go out please?" Dea asked.

"Oh, sorry," he said with an apologetic smile. "I'm only supposed to deliver your food to you."

Before she could respond, he made a hasty bow and hurried back out.

Dea barely looked at the dish. Her probing gaze halted on the computer that rested on the table. Unfortunately, she had no clue how to operate it. She approached it nevertheless.

There were decorative objects on one side of the device. She reached out a finger and stroked an ornate, off-white figurine, touched with reddish bleed from the Serendiva flag next to it.

Then she opened the drawers. With nothing else left to do to vent her agitation, she skimmed through miscellaneous paperwork and unintelligible writing. The contents of the bottommost drawer showed signs of age. She opened a stiff booklet and stopped short.

It contained photographs of young humans. This must be a memento from his school days!

She flipped through it, fingers squeaking on slick pages, and paused at a photo of Dilip in his late teens. It was a medium shot that took up one whole page. He sported his trademark smile and the carefully styled hair. Judging by the medals pinned to his blazer, he seemed to have been a high-achieving student.

Her attention switched back to the group photos, and she bent over the page to locate him. He stood at the center amidst thirty male students, all dressed in prim uniforms. Dea mused on this unlikely glimpse into his past. She almost closed it and did a double take.

An unmistakable mop of curls held her stare—just four places away from Dilip. It belonged to a boy who appeared younger than his peers, but he was strikingly familiar.

"Anuk," she said hoarsely.

Her brain mulled over this newfound piece of information.

The sound of footsteps made her ears perk up. She hurriedly shut the booklet, shoved it back into place and closed the drawer.

Dea barely put a meter between herself and the table before the door opened.

Dilip breezed in.

She expected surprise or consternation, but instead, his lips curved up into his characteristic smile. She blinked up at him.

"Well, Dea, you're full of surprises indeed." He walked up to the lofty chair behind the table and surveyed her. "I honestly didn't expect you to pull that kind of stunt back there."

She unfolded the ogi to respond, her heartbeat ticking up again.

"Very curious how you..." he trailed off and shook his head as he sank down onto the chair.

"Dilip, this isn't some silly trick," Dea finally got Merlingo to say. "This is me."

He pushed himself closer to her and leaned forward, just a few paces from her. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Huh?"

"I had my suspicions, but our lovely walk confirmed it for me," he said in his silky voice.

You knew I'm a...A jolt shot down her spine while her eyes danced over his alluringly perfect face. What! How?

"I'm very interested in where you came from, how you got here," he went on, his gaze flitting to her Cypod, "and how you've come to possess these little toys."

It was all too much to process. There was no way he could've guessed it—not when humans believed that merpeople were nothing more than myths. The weight inside gained mass, and the cold made her shiver. She maneuvered the Cypod backwards—or tried to.

Dilip's hand flew out and grabbed hers, pulling her closer. Dea gasped and almost dropped the ogi.

For an instant, she stared at the hand that held hers. It was the same hand she gripped in a stormy sea—her first contact with a human. In spite of how vivid the image was, it seemed like a distant memory. Nothing would've prepared her for the fateful experience that it turned out to be, setting in motion an adventure of a lifetime. The excitement that accompanied that moment was no more. All she knew now was fear—for herself and for the future of her people.

"You're a very pretty mermaid, and I'm grateful that you rescued me." He peered at her, and cold seeped through her entire system. "One would say that this is destiny. That's why you can stay here with me. Live the life..."

Dea leaned as far back as she could, one hand holding onto her ogi. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. No, this isn't right. This isn't how this evening is supposed to play out. It was as if her heart was sinking down to the sunless depths of an oceanic trench.

Sucking in a shaky breath, she fired out a reply with one hand. "No."

He watched her, and his voice came out as sweet as coconut treacle, "Dea, this might be too sudden, and you probably need some time. You can have dinner and mull things over."

"You want to keep me here like a slave?" Her forehead furrowed as outrage pushed its way up. "Is that even legal?"

"Well, you're not a human, so those laws don't apply."

"Your laws are flawed then," she said through gritted teeth, and then remembered to type it out. "I can see, hear and feel. And I value my life and freedom same as you humans."

"Let's not get worked up. I'm offering you a good life here." He gave her hand a pat, though the odd undercurrent lurking behind his mask reinforced the predatory vibe he now exuded. "Again, this doesn't have to be this way. You can have anything you desire—luxury, entertainment..."

Like a prisoner with fancy treats. Blazing hot anger surged up, and she yanked her hand away from him. "No."

"Well," he said, straightening up. "It's such a pity."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he got to his feet, right when someone knocked on the door.

"Yes? What is it?" he called.

One of the men came in. "Sir, two of the guests wish to speak with you before departing."

Dilip cast one last look at Dea and strode out, shutting the door behind him. He might as well have bashed her with a battering ram. A tsunami of disappointment, mingled with panic, rolled over her. It quenched the flame of hope burning in the hearth of her inner palace, which crumbled down to rubble.

If Dea had any plans of dashing out, they vanished when the lock clicked into place.

She stared at the door for a long time, tears prickling in her eyes. She swiped at the moisture and pulled in a shuddering breath. Emptiness yawned like an abyss, from which ghosts of warnings she never heeded echoed out. Dea wanted to crawl into a hole—as if she were an insignificant goby fish stupid enough to venture out of its coral home.

Get a grip. Get a grip. The icy weight jostled inside while she staved off panic. Her fists balled so tight, her nails dug into her skin. The pricks of pain helped anchor her to the situation at hand.

A tap sounded, making her jump. The door clacked open, and a head poked through. It was the pimply server again.

"Miss?" He came in, eyes shifting from her to the untouched dish on the table. "Haven't you eaten yet?"

"I need to get out of here." Dea's fingers fumbled with the ogi. "Please help."

His face showcased total bewilderment, and he threw a quick glance at the door. "I'm sorry, I'm only here to collect this."

Dea's flukes started thumping inside the Cypod. Of course, a human is stationed outside!

He walked over to the plate and lifted the cloche. "You should have some food."

She shook her head and rolled the Cypod towards him, fingers trying to tap out a rapid message. "I've had dinner. I need to leave. I'm being held against my will."

His eyes grew big, and he flung another glance over his shoulder.

Dea's distracted gaze landed on the meal. It was a hunk of what appeared to be seitan, lying on a bed of greens.

"What is this?" she asked, pointing a finger.

"This is a special delicacy—today's highlight." The server blinked, and his voice lowered as if he was letting her in on a guarded secret. "Mr. Goonewardane calls it sea beef. It's actually wild-caught sea cow."

Animal: Pom-Pom Anemone

https://youtu.be/vfYDCpNCPNg