When you woke up the next time, you no longer felt as weak or dizzy. Trying to get up.  “Lie still, lie still... You shouldn’t leave this soft bed just yet,” a pleasant male voice said. You turned your gaze to the source of the sound and met a pair of shining violet eyes. Grimace. — “They’re awake already?!” Maru exclaimed, flying back into the tent and nearly knocking over everything in her path. — “Sister, quieter. Our friend needs peace right now,” Grimace remarked softly. The siren looked down guiltily. Then carefully sat down beside you. — “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to.” You gently stroked her hand, trying to calm her. — “What happened to Mizumi? How is she?” you asked, shifting your gaze from Maru to Grimace. Grimace sighed and gave a soft smile. — “She’s fine. She’s resting in her room now. Don’t worry about her. Better think about your own health.” He carefully adjusted the bandage on your head. It seemed the hunter’s blow hadn’t been without consequence. — “Mimi told us everything,” Maru said quietly, squeezing your hand. — “It’s terrible... What happened to you.” Tears glistened in her eyes again. — “When Veronica comes, I’ll let her know you’re awake. But for now, why don’t we just talk?” Grimace suggested. Maru quickly wiped her eyes and immediately brightened. — “Oh, that would be wonderful! I have so much I could tell you!” You thought about it. You knew Maru better than the others, and you wanted to distract her from her worries. Besides, learning more about her was also interesting. — “Maru, tell me about yourself. How did you end up in the circus? What was your past like?” you asked quietly. Maru positively lit up with happiness. — “Oh, I don’t really like remembering the past... But for you, I’ll make an exception! For you, I’ll tell everything as it happened. Make yourself comfortable... No, better yet, lie comfortably!” Grimace shook his head and rolled his eyes with a smile. Propping his head on his hand, he prepared to listen. — “So, here’s how it was...”

The young siren woke up surrounded by hot, bluish liquid. Looking around in fright, she realized there was nothing around but a murky blue glow. Suddenly, she found it hard to breathe. The liquid wasn’t water. It was too thick and viscous, and there was almost no oxygen in it. The siren panicked. She began desperately pounding against the transparent wall surrounding her on all sides, forming a strange sphere. Her lungs burned. Dark spots were already dancing before her eyes when, in desperation, she slashed the wall with her sharp claws. It cracked and burst. The next moment, her body was enveloped by the coolness of real water. The siren greedily gulped the oxygen dissolved in the water, trying to catch her breath. When her breathing finally steadied, she looked around. Remnants of similar bubbles floated everywhere. There were dozens, if not hundreds of them. Curiosity overcame fear. The siren swam up to each burst bubble, hoping to find someone else. But there was no one inside. Left alone, she gazed sadly upward. And froze. High above her head shone a huge silver sphere. It was beautiful. Spreading her fins, the siren raced toward the light. She swam higher and higher until finally she broke the surface. Air rushed into her lungs. Her nose stung. Her chest ached. But these sensations were surprisingly pleasant. The siren looked around. No one was there. Just a lake and silence. Then suddenly, on the shore, she noticed a silhouette. Curiosity took over. She swam closer. The silhouette didn’t run away. Didn’t hide. Didn’t attack. Swimming up almost close, the siren realized it was a human boy. She looked at herself. Then she looked back at the boy. And some strange seaweed growing on his head. — “Hi. Who are you?” the boy asked. The siren blinked in surprise and immediately dove underwater, leaving only her eyes and smooth head above the surface. — “Hey, don’t hide! I won’t hurt you! Let’s be friends! My name is Mark. What’s yours?” The boy squatted down and reached out his hand. After hesitating a moment, the siren touched his palm and climbed out onto the shore. Mark looked at her closely. He was clearly surprised, but not frightened. — “Do you have a name?” The siren stared at him in bewilderment. She could barely understand his speech. — “No? Then let’s come up with one!” Mark picked up a stick and traced several letters on the wet sand. He looked at them thoughtfully for a while, then smiled broadly. — “Got it! You will be called Maru!” He pointed first to the writing, then to the siren. She opened her mouth. She tried to repeat the unfamiliar sounds. — “Maru?” — “Yes! Right!” Mark’s face lit up. The siren thought for a moment and then poked the boy with a claw. — “M... Mark?” — “Yes! I’m Mark, and you’re Maru!” He laughed so sincerely, as if something incredible had happened. Then the boy looked at the moon. — “Father will be back soon. I have to go. See you, Maru! Tomorrow!” With those words, he waved and ran off. And the siren watched him for a long time, feeling for the first time that she was no longer alone.

— “What happened next?” you ask when Maru falls silent. For a few seconds, silence fills the tent. You notice how the siren’s expression changes. Her smile slowly fades, and her gaze grows distant. Grimace carefully places a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head slightly, as if saying without words: “Don’t continue if you don’t want to.” Maru closes her eyes for a moment, then sighs heavily. — “He became my first friend. He taught me human speech, made clothes for me, brought me food... We spent almost all our time together.” A sad smile appears on her lips. — “We were very happy.” She falls silent. Her fingers nervously clutch the edge of her clothes. — “Until...”

Fifteen-year-old Mark sat on the shore of the lake, nervously tapping his foot on the damp ground. He was waiting for her. As always. Soon the water stirred, and Maru emerged. — “Oh, Mark! You’re early today. Did something happen?” the siren asked cheerfully, climbing into the shallows. Mark raised his eyes to her, but almost immediately looked away. He bit his lip so hard it turned white. Beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. — “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. — “I really love Anna. This is all for her... Don’t hold it against me.” He fumbled hurriedly through the things he had brought, as if afraid to stop even for a moment. Maru tilted her head in confusion. — “Mark, but we’ve already talked about this. I’m very happy that you like her. And I’m sure she’ll like you too. You just need to...” She stopped. In her friend’s hands was a net. And next to it lay a sturdy rope. Her heart clenched painfully. — “Mark?..” That was the last word she managed to utter. The next moment, the boy lunged at her. The water seemed to hold its breath along with them. The siren slipped beneath the surface like a thought you can’t catch in time. Her tail — powerful as a tidal strike — cut through the dark water. Her fins trembled, sensing every movement. She knew him. He stood knee-deep in the cold water, his fingers white on the crossbow’s grip. Fifteen — an age when childhood still whispers, but duty already shouts. The hunter’s son. The son of a man who taught: don’t hesitate, or you die. — “Don’t come closer...” His voice cracked, and he heard it himself. The siren rose from the water slowly, as if hoping that if she moved gently enough, reality would become gentle too. Droplets ran down her skin, thick and smooth, as if covered with the finest film. Her fangs flashed — not threateningly, just the way her breath fell. She didn’t attack. Closer. Then slightly to the side. Like before, when they played — he threw stones, and she caught them with her tail. That was funny then. He fired. The bowstring’s click sounded too loud in the air, like someone else’s mistake. The bolt hit the water with a dull thud and vanished. A moment — and the siren jerked. Her body arched, her tail lashed up, striking the surface so that a wave splashed against his chest. Not a wound — a stun. He knew where to aim. He had been taught. — “I’m sorry...” he whispered, already lunging forward. The water received him heavily, as if unwilling to let him in. He dove, his eyes stinging from cold and salt. The net tangled in his hands like doubt. The siren thrashed, but not as she could have. Not with the force that breaks bones. Her movements were jerky, disoriented — a strike, a turn, another strike... and a pause. She saw him underwater. And for a second, she stopped struggling. That was enough. The net spread open like someone else’s will and wrapped around her. Her fins snagged, her tail jerked, but it was too late. He pulled, with all his strength, feeling his muscles burn, feeling the water grow heavier with every inch. When he dragged her closer to shore, she was barely moving. Only her chest — if it could be called that — rose faintly. Her eyes were open. And there was no anger in them. Only bewilderment. And something else... He froze. The net bit into her body, her claws slid helplessly along the ropes. She could have killed him. Easily. Even now, if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. The water stirred again, as if the world was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. He lowered his gaze. Then looked away. And kept pulling. The shore still smelled of water and iron when he loaded the crate onto the cart. The boards were damp, hastily nailed together, the gaps sealed with resin. Inside, murky water sloshed, and with it — her. The net was left on: the ropes had become wet and darkened, as if they themselves were tired of holding. The horses jolted, the wheels creaked. The road led uphill, toward gray walls where the wind always sounded stricter. He walked beside the cart, not looking at the crate. Sometimes from inside came a dull thud of a tail against the boards — not an attempt to escape, but a movement so as not to forget how to move. Then silence. A splash. Silence again. Inside the castle, it smelled of cold stone and old smoke. They were met without surprise, as if they had been expecting this — prey, neatly packed in water. Servants exchanged glances but said nothing. Doors opened and closed like jaws. The knight-lord stood by the window, his back to the hall. When he turned, his gaze was heavy and precise, like a hammer striking an anvil. — “So it’s true,” he said, without raising his voice. The crate was placed on the stone floor. The water inside trembled. The siren slowly raised her head above the surface. Light from the narrow window fell across her face in a stripe, as if cutting it in two: one part in shadow, the other visible. She saw him. And didn’t flinch. The young man stood nearby, his shoulders drawn together like someone who has just carried something too heavy and is afraid to drop it at the last moment. For a second, he thought he might say something — explain, turn back, cut through this chain of decisions. But the words didn’t come. The lord stepped closer. Examined the prey like an object whose value is measured by rarity and usefulness. — “You have done what many thought a fairy tale,” he said. — “The hunter’s son has proven no worse than his father.” A pause fell over the hall like a new tile on the floor — cold and final. — “For this, you will have a place in my house. And the hand of my daughter.” The servants stirred; someone exhaled softly. Somewhere behind, fabric rustled — perhaps she herself, that daughter, stood in the half-shadow, watching the transaction in which her life too had become part of the reward. The young man nodded. The siren didn’t look away. Her eyes remained on him, like an anchor with nothing to catch. She was taken below. The basement greeted them with thick coolness. Stone steps swallowed the sound of footsteps. In a niche, another crate already waited — deeper, heavier, with a lid in which narrow slits had been cut for air. The water was poured over, the net pulled tighter, as if even the memory of freedom might cut through the ropes. When the lid closed, the world shrank to darkness and weak light from the cracks. The water in the crate became both her sky and her earth. The boards absorbed every tail-strike, every ragged breath. The stone around held a cold that did not let go. Above, footsteps faded. He lingered on the top step longer than the others. He could have gone down. Opened it. Said something — anything — that didn’t sound like a sentence. He didn’t go down. Below, she lay almost motionless, letting the water hold her. Her claws slid along the inside of the boards, leaving no marks. Her fangs no longer bared — not because she lacked strength, but because there was no point. She knew only his voice. From her earliest years — whispers at the water’s edge, laughter, strange human words she learned to repeat like patterns in the sand. He had been the only shore that didn’t hurt. Now that shore was gone. In the darkness, the water sounded different. Not like home. Like a cage pretending to be the sea. She didn’t thrash. Didn’t call out. She only watched the strip of light where someone’s shadow sometimes passed — and waited for one of those shadows to stop. For it to be his. 

— “What happened next? How did you escape?” you asked anxiously. — “Oh, that’s the most interesting part of the story!” Maru exclaimed enthusiastically. She smiled so easily and sincerely that it became clear: those events no longer caused her the same pain. — “So, I was sitting in the crate when I heard my older brother’s voice...” The siren nodded toward Grimace. He sat nearby, arms crossed over his knees, smiling mysteriously. Maru was about to continue when the tent flap was drawn aside. — “The patient is awake?” Inside came an incredibly beautiful girl with soft features and long, light hair. — “Ah, Mademoiselle Veronica. You’ve come just in time. Our patient is awake and listening to my dear sister’s stories with great interest,” said Grimace, immediately turning to the girl. It seemed all his attention instantly shifted to her. — “Good,” Veronica replied calmly. — “I need to examine the patient. And I ask you to leave the tent for a while.” She shifted her gaze to Maru. — “Mizumi is waiting for you.” Then she looked at Grimace. — “And I need to discuss something with you. It will take just a minute.” Her voice was even and calm, her expression unreadable. Maru clicked her tongue in disappointment but still got to her feet. — “Sorry I didn’t get to finish the story! If you want, Grimace can finish it for me. Just ask him.” The siren smiled. — “Well, I have to go. Get well soon!” She quickly ran out of the tent. Grimace followed Veronica, and soon their voices became barely audible outside. You were left alone. For a while, there was silence. Then your attention was caught by movement outside the tent entrance. Some shadow quickly slipped toward the forest. A moment later, you heard a familiar patter, accompanied by a distinct smell of dog.