She stayed in the sa spot, arms crossed, legs folded beneath her, hovering just above the seafloor like a very pissed-off sea ghost.
And around her?
A parade of tiny, curious fish.
Little glowing things with big eyes and no sense of boundaries, circling her like she was so exotic reef ornant.
One of them even bumped her cheek.
Kaya twitched.
Great. Just great.
She exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as another one brushed past her arm.
Her anger wasn’t explosive—it was boiling. Slowly. Quietly. Like a pot no one bothered to watch until it spilled over.
She was supposed to be preparing for a shark hunt. Life-and-death stuff. Instead, she was babysitting plankton with attitudes.
One particularly bold fish swam directly in front of her nose, blinking at her.
Kaya glared.
"Swim away before I chew you like bubblegum," she muttered darkly.
The fish did not move.
Her fingers twitched. Just a little.
Just as Kaya was about to swat the boldest fish in front of her—maybe even give it a light slap with the back of her hand—sothing shifted.
The water around her grew heavier. Not in pressure, but in presence.
It was subtle at first.
The playful fish scattered—gone in a blink, as if they’d sensed sothing far above their pay grade. The temperature dropped by a degree, maybe two. Her hair floated a little differently, and the current around her stilled unnaturally.
And then, from the distance, a ripple moved through the water like a blade slicing silence.
"Ahh here its cos", kaya murmured.
The so-called grand entrance happened exactly as Kaya had expected—and dreaded.
First ca a shimr through the water, followed by a swirl of current that could’ve been summoned by a stage director. The master finally arrived, flanked by five or six rmaids—draped in flowing fins, swaying in unison like they were extras in so underwater political drama.
One of them, a tiny girl with wide eyes and an overly reverent posture, floated near his side like the sacred coral flower girl.
Kaya rolled her eyes so hard she almost gave herself a headache.
Ugh.
She lifted her hand to her forehead and gave it a quick, tired rub.
Why. Why were beastn so damn dramatic?
Every single one of them acted like they were being fild for a fantasy presidential drama—minus the caras and the plot.
Still, she braced herself, posture neutral, jaw set.
The master stopped in front of her. His eyes were cold, piercing. Clearly trying to size her up like she was an unpredictable sea creature rather than a woman who’d just been waiting twenty minutes without oxygen tanks or respect.
"So," he said, voice flat, bored. "Tell . What do you want to talk about?"
Kaya looked up at him—and nearly lost it.
There, bold and proud on his neck, was a bright, red hickey.
Seriously?
She almost lunged forward and smacked him. On the tail, the face, anywhere that would knock the smug out of him.
I’ve been here for twenty minutes being sniffed by glow-fish while you were off getting kisses on your neck?
But no.
No, no. Deep breath.
She forced her rage down, swallowed the fire, and answered with a tone so bland it could’ve chilled lava.
"I need your n."
The master blinked.
Then—he looked her up and down with the slow, calculating gaze of soone who thought he was the prize in this conversation.
"Sorry," he replied smoothly, "but you’re not that beautiful."
Kaya’s eyes twitched.
Her chest rose and fell once, sharply.
Beside her, Sarah clutched her chest like she’d just witnessed a public execution.
Kaya stared him down, jaw clenched.
And then, through gritted teeth, voice sharp enough to slice through coral, she said:
"I’m asking for your people’s help to ward off a shark attack. Not to kidnap them."
Her voice dropped low, dangerous.
"Try and keep your fins on the subject."
The master looked at her for a long second, then gave a thoughtful nod.
The master looked at her, expression unreadable for a beat—then gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
Like she’d just suggested borrowing a cup of salt, not requesting manpower for a potential shark war.
"So," he said casually, "how many do you need?"
Before he could blink, Kaya raised one hand, crisp and firm. "Ten."
No hesitation. No negotiation. Her tone didn’t waver.
The master nodded again, completely unfazed.
He snapped his fingers like he was ordering wine.
"Little Lord," he called, not even turning around. "Give her ten n."
The little lord stumbled forward, a little dazed. "Uh—yes, Master."
The master barely looked back at Kaya. "All done, right?"
And just like that, he turned and swam away—calm, collected, probably on his way to resu whatever he had been doing before being so rudely interrupted by, you know, a shark crisis.
Kaya stared at his retreating figure in absolute disbelief.
What just happened?
She stood there, arms crossed, her expression blank with shock.
I’m here trying to stop a massacre. He just handed ten soldiers like I ordered a side of fries.
No grand speech. No warning. No responsibility. Just: ’Okay, bye.’
She rubbed her forehead slowly. "What kind of opera house is this kingdom..."
---
anwhile... earlier
The little lord had not had a good day.
When Kaya had yanked his tail and demanded an audience with the master, he had dutifully swum off, grumbling the entire way.
He didn’t expect to be traumatized.
The master and Leo had been—ahem—preoccupied. Very personally.
And so the poor little lord had stood outside the pearlescent chamber for nineteen straight minutes, listening to muffled sounds he would now spend a lifeti trying to forget.
He’d tried staring at barnacles. Whispered motivational mantras to himself. At one point, he considered letting the sharks win.
When the master finally erged, hair a little too tousled and lips too smug, he hadn’t even listened to the full request.
Just waved a hand.
"Give her ten," he’d said.
And now—here they were.
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