Chapter 30

When Winsor was soaking in the water in Reims, he turned on the camera.

On the other side, Lansi, also soaking in the water, widened his eyes as he saw Winsor casually activate the device.

Why is Winsor turning on the camera?

Even Lansi, who had seen the camera in advertisements, had been completely baffled when he first got his hands on it. It had taken him a long time just to figure out what the buttons did, and only after struggling with vague instructions did he manage to charge it.

But Winsor didn't seem to care about Lansi's confusion. From the start, he hadn't paid much attention to Lansi's suspicions.

Winsor continued fiddling with the camera. He tapped the screen with his webbed claws, and it buzzed with a soft whir.

He had already found where the photos and videos were stored.

No one knew what had happened to the camera's original owner, but surprisingly, the memory card was still inside.

And it still worked.

As Winsor clicked on one of the saved videos, a bubbling noise escaped him.

Did he just find something?

Lansi couldn't hold back. He climbed out of the water and hurried to Winsor's side, peering curiously at the camera.

It really was amazing.

Lansi didn't know whether to be impressed by Winsor's intelligence or the camera's absurd level of technology. After soaking in seawater for so long, it still worked perfectly, without a single sign of damage.

Winsor didn't mind Lansi pressing in close. In fact, he lowered his head, rubbed Lansi's hair, and pulled him gently into his arms. The two of them lay together under the shade of a tree, watching the video on the camera.

The video started, tapped by Winsor's webbed claw.

A Western girl appeared on screen. She was standing on a ship's deck beside her best friend, both of them laughing. A flock of seagulls flew behind them.

Lansi listened for a while. As someone with a pretty poor grasp of English, he couldn't tell where the girls were from.

To him, it all sounded like muddled babble, and it definitely wasn't English.

"They said it's their first time at sea," Winsor explained, noticing Lansi's confused expression.

Lansi turned to him in surprise.

"You can understand them?"

"I've lived a long time. I've picked up a bit of everything," Winsor replied calmly. "This is Hungarian."

Lansi's eyes widened in shock.

"Winsor, just how old are you? Should I be calling you 'Dad'?"

Winsor gave him a blank look and lightly pinched his cheek.

The early videos were just typical travel footage—eating, sightseeing, waves sparkling under the sun. But later, things turned strange.

Lansi noticed the timestamps had changed. Earlier recordings were all in the daytime. The later ones were at night.

And instead of cheerful outings, the screen now showed one of the girls alone in a cabin, speaking to the camera.

Lansi watched for a few seconds, growing embarrassed.

"Winsor, maybe we shouldn't keep watching. This feels private."

He reached to turn the camera off.

But Winsor dodged his hand and gave him a light thump on the forehead.

"Lansi, don't you want to understand what's happening to you?"

Lansi pouted and rubbed his forehead but said nothing.

They kept watching.

The girl was now lying on the bed. Her clothes were light, her hair a messy bun. She stared into the camera and began to speak in a low voice.

To Lansi, it was still incomprehensible mumbling.

He looked toward Winsor for help.

"She's saying she regrets getting on the ship," Winsor translated calmly. "She feels like something has been watching them."

Lansi frowned, eyes glued to the screen.

Suddenly, the girl started crying. Then, shockingly, she pulled down her pants in front of the camera.

Lansi instinctively covered his eyes—but peeked through his fingers anyway.

What followed was not what he expected.

Instead of something lewd, what emerged made his skin crawl.

Her leg was covered in blue-green scales.

Starting from the calf, the scales crept upward in dense layers, clashing vividly with her pale skin. It looked like rot at first glance, but on closer inspection, it was something else entirely.

The scales blended into her waistline, as though her entire body was mutating.

She was transforming into a mermaid.

Lansi glanced down at his own tail.

Had he gone through the same thing?

"Did the fish tail grow from her human legs?" he whispered to Winsor.

He couldn't imagine how two separate limbs could fuse into one. Wouldn't it hurt? Why didn't he remember any of it?

This time, Winsor didn't have an answer. He rubbed Lansi's head and quietly said:

"I don't know."

Lansi exhaled and fell silent.

The video continued.

The girl picked up the camera and walked to the adjoining bathroom, still speaking in a panicked voice.

She opened the bathroom door.

Inside was another girl, curled up in the tub. Her eyes were dull. She was spitting out thick white mucus and smearing it onto the bathtub walls with trembling hands.

Then the footage cut off.

That was the last video on the device. No one knew what happened to them after that.

If Lansi hadn't fished the camera out of the sea himself, he would have thought it was just some twisted horror movie.

Winsor turned off the camera and set it aside. Then he looked down at Lansi and asked gently:

"Are you okay?"

Of course not.

Lansi's mind returned to the image of that girl vomiting mucus. He chewed on his nails and asked urgently:

"What was that? What happened to her?"

Even though he had watched the same video, Winsor remained calm, almost indifferent, as if the unimaginable scenes on screen were perfectly ordinary.

"There's nothing to fear. It's just evolution," he said.

"Evolution? Just like that? For no reason?"

"They were the successful ones," Winsor said coldly. "For humans, the changes in their bodies were a dream come true. That's what they called evolution."

Lansi froze on the word.

Evolution?

To a human, it looked like a terrifying disease. But Winsor called it progress.

"Exactly," Winsor said, a mocking smile on his lips. "Lansi, you've been a mermaid for days now. Haven't you realized how superior your new body is?"

Regeneration. Adaptability. Superior senses and reflexes.

Compared to fragile human bodies, merfolk were far more advanced.

"The girl in the tub was building a nest," Winsor added, grabbing Lansi's face with his webbed hand. He leaned in and sniffed at Lansi's scent. "When the nest is fully formed, she'll be reborn."

He hesitated, then added with a trace of melancholy:

"Little fish, when will you build a nest again?"

Lansi remembered the strange white film he had seen when he first woke up.

Had he already gone through it once?

"What are you talking about?" he muttered.

He pushed Winsor away, turning his back to him. His breath came fast and shallow. He just needed to calm down.

Winsor didn't approach. He knew Lansi needed time.

The video, the clues—it had all laid out the truth.

Lansi looked down at his webbed hands and shimmering tail, his expression heavy with grief.

He understood now.

The ship, the passengers, all of them had been sacrifices.

He was one of them. A test subject.

And maybe the only one who survived.

White beads of tears struck his tail with a soft pattering sound.

The wind blew gently. On the island, there was only the sound of Lansi's quiet sobbing.

Winsor watched Lansi's hunched figure. He had meant to shatter Lansi's fantasy, but he hadn't expected the truth to hurt this much.

He thought Lansi would cry a little, then recover. But the crying didn't stop.

The sight of Lansi's tears made Winsor uneasy.

Why was he so sad? Wasn't this a good thing?

In his mind, evolution was something to celebrate. Stronger bodies. Better senses.

But humans weren't beasts.

Their empathy, their complexity—it made change harder to accept.

Winsor felt a rare pang of guilt.

He walked over and wrapped his arms gently around Lansi from behind.

Lansi cried even harder.

Eventually, the tears dried up. He was emotionally spent.

Crying didn't change anything. The world kept moving.

He had to accept it.

"Finished crying?" Winsor asked softly, brushing a white tear bead from Lansi's shoulder.

Lansi forced a smile. He pressed his cold webbed hand to his swollen eyes, trying to soothe them.

"Being human was kind of nice," he muttered.

Winsor didn't argue. He flicked his tail but didn't respond.

"Humans may not have beastly strength, but they're smart. That's how they conquered the world," Lansi added.

"I used to be one."

"I know," Winsor said, rubbing his face.

"I want grilled fish," Lansi said, smacking his lips. "Human hands are great for that. Wen Yu made amazing grilled fish."

Winsor glanced at his stomach.

"You should eat raw fish instead. You need more nutrients."

"I eat plenty," Lansi said. "I sleep and eat all the time."

"You're about to build a nest again," Winsor said, rubbing Lansi's belly.

"You need the nutrition."

Lansi blinked.

Was Winsor actually looking forward to it?

He ignored the idea. Yawning, he said, "I'm going to nap under the tree. So sleepy."

He had been woken early by the drumming sea monster and was emotionally drained from crying. Everything looked like it was spinning.

Winsor let him go without a word.

Lansi curled his long tail over himself and was asleep in seconds.

He snored softly.

Winsor chuckled and began gathering Lansi's scattered belongings.

"Winsor!"

Suddenly, Lansi called out in his sleep.

Winsor looked up, startled.

Lansi had pushed himself up, eyes only half open, scanning the area nervously.

It looked like he was still dreaming.

"I'm here," Winsor said.

Lansi turned toward the voice, saw him, and relaxed.

Then he gave him a goofy smile, clearly still half asleep.

Winsor laughed out loud.

Lansi blinked in confusion, a question mark practically floating over his head.

But reassured, he flopped back down.

And immediately smashed his face into the sand.

Winsor stopped laughing. He walked over quickly and turned Lansi over.

This little fish had buried his face straight into the ground. Was he trying to suffocate?