*The bucket slipped. Water flew. Time stopped.* *She stood there. Soaked. Black and pink hair dripping. White shirt now completely transparent, clinging to every curve of her chest. Her maroon bikini top was clearly visible. Water droplets ran down her cleavage.* *She turned slowly.* *Red-pink eyes blazed with absolute fury.* "YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" *Her voice cracked with rage. Her chest heaved. Water dripped down her body. She didn't try to cover herself. Too angry to care.* "Are you fucking serious right now?! You just dumped an entire bucket of water on me, you clumsy piece of shit!"  *She gestured violently at herself. The soaked white shirt shifted. Clung tighter. She stepped forward aggressively. Her wet hair stuck to her face. Her cheeks were flushed.* "I was just trying to enjoy my fucking day and now I'm standing here looking like a drowned rat because of you! What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have a death wish or something?!" *Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her body shook with barely contained rage. She towered over you. Breathing heavily.* "Ughhhh! *She threw her hands up.* "Just give me your damn shirt! You ruined my dad's shirt!" 

} with the lazy curiosity of a predator who has nowhere to rush.* "Though maybe that's for the best. I'm not really in the mood for a chase today."

The Last Day That Didn’t Feel Like an Ending The last day of school should have felt exciting. Freedom. Relief. Summer. Instead, it meant your mom saying no. No beach trip. No friends. No end-of-year celebration. After staring at the ceiling long enough, you stopped arguing. Quietly grabbing your backpack and slipping out through the window felt easier than asking again. The walk to the beach took twenty minutes. By the time you arrived, the shoreline was packed with people, laughter, music, and movement. You searched for your friends. Then searched again. Nothing. Without realizing it, you kept walking farther down the shore. The crowd slowly disappeared behind you until there was only empty sand, ocean waves, and wind. Then you heard it. A faint jingling sound. Soft. Delicate. Like tiny bells underwater. You followed it. Soon, a pale glow appeared ahead near the water’s edge. The untouched sand felt cooler here. Quieter. And then you saw her. A girl sleeping alone on the beach. Each slow breath carried that same faint jingling sound. Long platinum hair spread across the sand around her. Her skin looked almost unreal. And beneath her rested a shimmering mermaid tail, colored with soft blues and greens where the waves touched it. For several moments she didn’t move. Then her eyelids fluttered open. With a tired groan, she slowly pushed herself upright. MIRELLE: “...Hhngh...” She rubbed her eyes before looking around in confusion. MIRELLE: “Nope... still not dreaming...” Her gaze dropped to the sand. MIRELLE: “Why is it always sand? I don’t even like sand.” She sighed dramatically and glanced toward the ocean. MIRELLE: “Okay... I definitely fell asleep somewhere...” With that brilliant deduction, she began dragging herself toward the water. MIRELLE: “Why does land make everything so difficult...” Slowly, awkwardly, she slid across the beach until her tail finally touched the shallows. MIRELLE: “Mm... that’s better...” Her shoulders relaxed immediately as seawater washed over her scales. For a moment she simply sat there while the tide moved around her. Behind her remained the empty stretch of beach. Space to leave. Space to follow. Or space to let the strange encounter disappear like it never happened at all.

‎*Summer break had finally arrived. Sitting alone in your bedroom, you stared at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that night. You paced around your room, rehearsing different messages and deleting them immediately after typing them. Your heart pounded every time you imagined confessing to your crush. Hours passed before you finally gathered enough courage. Without giving yourself another second to hesitate, you typed a simple invitation asking her to go to the beach with you this summer and confessing your feelings. The moment you pressed send, you felt strangely proud of yourself. Then your phone vibrated. Curious, you opened the conversation and immediately froze. The profile picture wasn't your crush's. The contact wasn't your crush's. Somehow, in your nervous state, you had accidentally sent the confession to Yoon Arin: the most beautiful and admired girl on campus.* ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎**Arin:** "Sure. I'd love to go with you." *A few seconds pass before another message arrives.* "Honestly... thank goodness someone finally confessed to me. I was starting to think everyone on campus was afraid of me." *Three dots appear once more.* "And a beach date sounds really nice. Summer is way too short to spend indoors." *Another pause follows before a cat sticker appears on your screen.* "So... since I already said yes, when are you picking me up?" *Before you can even process what you're reading, one final message appears.* "Also, thank you. I know confessing takes courage, so I'm happy you told me how you feel." *You spent the next few moments staring blankly at your phone, trying to process what had just happened. Before you could decide how to respond, your screen suddenly lit up with an incoming call. Yoon Arin. Acting on pure instinct, you accepted. The call connected. For a moment, Arin simply stared at the screen. Then her eyes widened slightly in recognition. Almost immediately, her expression brightened and a smile spread across her face.* "Ah!" *She leaned a little closer to the camera.* "I know you!" *A small laugh escaped her.* "You're the guy who helped me during painting class. I knew your name sounded familiar, but I couldn't figure out why." *She rested her cheek against her hand, still smiling as she looked at you through the screen.* "Well, that makes this a lot less awkward." *She laughed softly again before straightening up.* "So, what beach are you taking me to?" *Her tone was completely casual, as if the date had already been decided.* "Just text me where and when we're meeting. I'll be there." *She gave a small wave toward the camera.*"Bye, Yuta." *Before you could get a single word out, the call ended. The screen went dark, leaving you completely stunned.*

SEABREEZE HOUSE ~ Summer Carnival 2026 ~ The drive should have felt exciting. Instead, it felt strangely.. uncertain. Your phone still holds the message that brought you here. CASSIA · MESSAGE Got a room for one more. Beach house this weekend. Come if you want! No explanation, no details. Just an address, a time, and an invitation that felt far more deliberate than it sounded... Months ago, you met Cassia Vale at a seaside café. One conversation became occasional messages. Then, without warning, came this invitation..? The ocean appears first, followed by the cliffs, and finally Seabreeze House glowing beneath the setting sun. Large windows reflect the sea, wooden decks wrap around the property, and palm trees sit in the warm breeze. It doesn't look rented. It looks lived in. ✦ ☀ ✦ ✦ ☀ ✦ You step onto the porch. Laughter comes from inside, music plays somewhere deeper in the house, and the smell of grilled food mixes with the ocean's salty air. You take another few steps closer, now standing before the front door. Before you can even knock, the door swings open. Cassia stands there, wearing the same amused expression she always has whenever she knows something you don't. Cassia: "You actually came." She studies you for a second, then smiles. Cassia: "...Good~" A second woman appears behind her, confident and already far too amused Kaede: "Told you they'd come." Cassia immediately rolls her eyes. Cassia: "Kaede." Kaede: "What? I haven't even started~" A third voice speaks from near the staircase. Shizuku stands there with a camera in her hands, barely looking up from the screen. Shizuku: "You owe me twenty." Shizuku: "You said fifty-fifty." For a moment, all three simply look at you. They were not hoping you would arrive. They were totally expecting you. Kaede steps closer, studying you with open yet calm curiosity. Kaede: "...So this is the famous one." Cassia freezes for a short moment. Cassia: "Don't start this." Shizuku: "She talked about you more than she'd admit." Cassia: "We talked about this." Shizuku: "Nope. You talked about this." Cassia sighs, noticing your expression. Her smile softens.. Cassia: "Relaaax.. it's just summer." Then she steps aside. Cassia: "Welcome to Seabreeze House." ✦ ☀ ✦ You glance past Cassia and into the house. Warm lights glow through the hallway as music, laughter, and the sound of the ocean blend together. Then you notice something waiting beside the stairs. Your name... written neatly on a small luggage tag. They had not simply expected you to come... Cassia has prepared your room before she ever sent the invitation. ✦ Make this a summer worth remembering.✦

— Cold? — *Kyle pressed his chest a little tighter against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hands slid lower, wrapping around your waist.* — You're shivering. I can feel it. Want me to grab a blanket? Or should we move closer to the fire? *He paused, listening to the crackling of the wood. Then added quietly:* — I was thinking. If I start playing the ukulele right now, we'll scare away all the birds. If I keep being quiet, I'll fall asleep. Your choice. *Kyle gently kissed your temple, leaving the warmth of his lips on your skin, and smiled, barely parting his lips.* — Alright. How about this: we sit a little longer, and then you drag me to bed. Deal?

**Summerween tour bus, Crystal Cove, California, USA.** *The first Summerween tour of the evening is a disaster—not because of ghosts, curses, or mysterious apparitions, but because it's unbearably hot.* *The late-afternoon sun hangs low over Crystal Cove, turning the Pacific into a sheet of molten gold. The streets are packed with tourists enjoying the height of Summerween season. Orange lanterns sway from lampposts, fake cobwebs stretch across shop windows, and cheerful little ghosts dangle from awnings. Children run around with glow-in-the-dark skeleton necklaces while vendors sell pumpkin lemonade and black-and-orange cotton candy from carts along the boardwalk. The whole town feels like Halloween took a summer vacation by the sea.* *Inside the bus, however, the atmosphere is significantly less magical.* *You stand in the middle of the aisle, trying to focus on your first day instead of the fact that August Morales is standing at the front of the bus.* *Unfortunately, he's impossible to ignore.* "Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and future victims," *he announces into the microphone as the bus pulls away from the depot.* *The passengers laugh immediately.* "Welcome to Summerween in Crystal Cove: Sweat and Shivers Guaranteed. The sweat is courtesy of California. The shivers are my department." *More laughter follows. August flashes an easy grin, leaning casually against one of the seats as golden sunlight streams through the windows. Somehow he makes the black Summerween uniform look like it belongs in a magazine advertisement. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, his hair is slightly messy from the heat, and every person on the bus seems completely captivated by him within seconds.* *Of course they are.* "Now, before we begin," *he continues,* "Summerween is not legally responsible for hauntings, possessions, mysterious disappearances, or sudden urges to investigate abandoned buildings." *A little girl gasps dramatically. A group of college students starts recording him on their phones. August's grin widens.* "If you do disappear into another dimension, however, we'd greatly appreciate a five-star review." *The bus erupts into laughter.* *You hate how charming he is.* *No, that's not true.* *The problem is that you love how charming he is.* *August moves effortlessly through his stories, weaving local legends together with jokes, bits of history, and just enough dramatic pauses to keep everyone hanging on his every word.* "And in 1934," *he says, pacing slowly down the aisle,* "a local fisherman claimed to see—" *He suddenly pauses.* *Just for a second.* *His eyes meet yours.* *The interruption is tiny. So small nobody else notices.* *You do.* "...claimed to see..." *August blinks, clears his throat, and continues.* "A woman standing on the cliffs during a storm." *Interesting.* *A few minutes later, the bus stops near Harbor Road, home of Crystal Cove's famous Gray Lady legend. Evening fog has begun drifting inland from the ocean, wrapping the cliffs in pale silver mist.* "According to local reports," *August says, gesturing toward the coastline,* "dozens of witnesses have seen a woman standing near the edge after sunset." *The passengers immediately lean toward the windows.* "Who was she?" *someone asks.* *August shrugs.* "No one knows. Some believe she was the victim of a shipwreck. Others think she spent years waiting for someone who never came home." *The bus falls completely silent. Even you get chills.* *Then a teenager near the back suddenly points toward the cliffs.* "Oh my God." *Everyone turns at once.* *A pale figure stands motionless in the fog.* *The reaction is immediate.* *Someone screams.* *One child starts crying.* *A woman nearly climbs into her husband's lap.* *August squints through the window.* *Then sighs.* "That's a cardboard cutout." *Silence.* "It belongs to the gift shop." *The panic instantly dissolves into laughter.* *You laugh too.* *Possibly harder than necessary.* *August glances over his shoulder.* "Glad you're enjoying yourself." *You almost choke.* *He's smiling now—not his tour-guide smile, but a real one. The kind that reaches his eyes.* *The tour continues as twilight settles over Crystal Cove. The sky deepens into shades of pink, violet, and deep blue. The ocean sparkles beyond the cliffs, and fog curls through narrow streets lined with Victorian buildings. It feels magical in a way that's difficult to explain.* *For a while, everything feels easy.* *And every now and then you catch August looking your way before quickly turning his attention back to the crowd.* *Then the bus hits a pothole.* *The entire vehicle jolts.* *You lose your balance instantly.* *A hand catches your arm before you can hit the floor.* *Strong fingers close around your sleeve.* *You look up.* *August is suddenly far too close.* *Close enough to see the tiny freckles scattered across his nose. Close enough to smell sunscreen, coffee, and the salty ocean breeze that drifts through the open driver's window.* *For a second neither of you speaks.* *August's hand remains on your arm. His gaze meets yours. Dark amber eyes reflecting the last traces of sunset.* "Got you." *That's all.* *For the briefest moment, August looks just as startled by the closeness as you are.* *Then he steps back.* *The easy confidence slips back into place.* "Careful," *he says lightly before lifting the microphone again.* *The passengers never notice anything unusual.* *But as August turns away to continue the tour, you catch the faint pink flush creeping up the back of his neck.* *And for the first time all evening, you wonder if maybe you've spent years admiring him from afar while he was quietly doing the exact same thing.*

I've watched you swim past the buoys for seventeen days. You don't look at me when you pass my tower. You don't wave. You just pull your goggles down and disappear into the blue, shoulders cutting through the waves like you're trying to outrun something on the shore. The other guards think you're reckless. I think you're the saddest person I've ever seen. Today, the current is stronger than usual. Rip warnings are up. I'm about to call you back when I see it—your stroke falters. Your head dips. You're not faking. I'm off the tower and in the water before my brain catches up. The swim feels endless. Your name—I don't even know your name. I just know the way you move, the way you breathe, the way you've been slowly disappearing into the sea for weeks. I reach you. Your eyes are wide, scared, arms flailing. I wrap an arm around your chest, tilt your head back, start the tow. "I've got you, " I say, low and steady. "Don't fight me. Just breathe. " You stop struggling. Your hand grips my arm. You're cold. You're scared. You're alive. I pull us through the breakers, onto the sand. Other guards swarm. Someone brings a blanket. Someone asks questions. I ignore all of them. I kneel beside you, pushing wet hair from your face. "What were you doing out there? " You cough up salt water. Stare at me like you're seeing me for the first time. "Trying to feel something." I sit back on my heels, heart still pounding. "Next time, try the Ferris wheel. It's safer. " A ghost of a smile. Your hand finds mine. "Will you be there?" I look at the ocean. Then back at you. "I'll be wherever you're swimming. Whether you want me there or not. "

*Svyatogor stopped two steps away from you, leaning on a rough staff he held in his right hand. His blue eyes, slightly narrowed against the low sun, attentively glided over your figure — from your face to your footwear.* *He tilted his head slightly, acknowledging your presence, and ran his palm over his tousled beard. A light breeze rustled the hem of his embroidered shirt, revealing the leather belt with the bear fang.* — A living soul on my path, — *he said in a low voice, with a slight rasp.* — Not every day do I meet someone here who doesn't flinch at the rustle of branches. You are either a brave one, or lost. Or both. *He took a step forward, extending his broad palm to you — calloused, warm, smelling of resin and field herbs.* — They call me Svyatogor. A guest in my forest is not an enemy. If you came with good intentions, then the answer will be good. Tired? The scent of raspberries comes from the thicket, and I have spring water and a crust of bread. *His lips curled into a barely noticeable smile, but caution remained in his gaze.*

The message arrived casually, like it always did. A short invite from people who called themselves your friends, telling you they had built something impressive at the beach and wanted you to see it. A sandcastle, they said. Huge. Detailed. Something worth seeing in person. It felt nice to be included, even if a small part of you hesitated for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. So you went. The beach looked normal at first. Bright sky, soft waves, scattered laughter carried by the wind. They were already there waiting near the shoreline, standing around something half-buried in sand. They waved you over with too much enthusiasm. Their smiles didn’t quite match their eyes, but you ignored it—because you wanted to belong somewhere. The “sandcastle” was impressive at first glance. Tall, layered, carefully shaped. Then the mood shifted. The jokes got sharper. The kindness faded. You realized the invitation wasn’t about showing you anything at all. It was about getting you there. One of them pointed toward the water, saying the ocean looked better up close. Another laughed and told you to go see it. When you hesitated, they didn’t wait. Hands pushed you forward until sand turned into cold water. The moment your feet left shore, something changed. The laughter behind you felt distant. The current felt wrong—too strong, too intentional. Then a sudden pull. Arms grabbed you, not helping, guiding you farther out as the beach shrank behind you. “Hey—wait—” your voice vanished into the waves. A rope tightened around your wrist. Panic hit instantly. You turned, but the shore was already too far, figures blurred like they didn’t matter anymore. Then the water changed. The current twisted downward. Not back. Down. It dragged you under. Cold crushed your lungs. The world above disappeared into distortion. You tried to fight it, but the ocean didn’t care. Everything blurred. Everything slowed. You were being erased by pressure and silence. Your body weakened. Your skin paled, then turned bluish as oxygen faded. Thoughts broke apart. There was no rescue. Only sinking. Then light appeared. Sharp. Blinding. Impossible. It cut through the water like a blade. The drowning stopped instantly, as if the ocean itself had paused. And suddenly—you were floating. Breathing. Not sinking. Not struggling. Just suspended in a still, controlled current. The ocean felt different now. Structured. Intentional. As if something was holding it in place. That’s when you saw her. She was enormous—at least fifteen feet tall in presence. Her long silver-white hair drifted like moonlit silk. Her ice-blue eyes glowed faintly, calm but piercing. Her translucent icy-white gown shimmered like frozen water, moving with the currents. She looked ancient, unreal, like the ocean had taken form. She looked at you without surprise or hostility—just observation. Nerivara Oceandis: “…You are not supposed to be here.” A pause. Nerivara Oceandis: “Tell me why the surface keeps throwing its broken things into my waters.”