Chapter Text
"I'm sorry, but what is this snot-nosed kid doing in a place like this?" Mr. Pak whispers into his colleague's ear.
"I heard his father came to Seoul to sign some contract with a Korean lab and brought his son along."
"A family trip is wonderful, but how and why did he end up at a secret facility?"
"This guy graduated from a private closed university with a degree in cryptobiology and is supposedly the youngest researcher in our field..."
At that moment, someone hits him on the head with a folder, telling him to shut up. The men turn around and freeze in fear at the sight of their formidable boss, Mrs. Kang. "One more word about this young gentleman, and you're fired." The men immediately clamp their mouths shut, now far more concerned about losing their jobs than gossiping about an incompetent scientist who only gained access to the secret facility because he was the son of one of the project's main sponsors.
Till Sommerfeld.
A guy with clearly dyed but perfectly styled silver hair. At this very moment, he stands dressed in an expensive black coat and gloves, as if he is still cold indoors, waiting for one of the center's employees to grant him access.
Access to one of the classified facilities numbered BS-137.
Till had arrived from Darmstadt to Seoul that morning, and by lunchtime he was already being taken to one of the Koreans' most secret bases, located almost at the country's border, far from people and major cities. It was hidden underground and, according to the documents his father had shared, contained the largest number of "cryptids" discovered by Korean scientists and authorities to date, now under observation. However, despite the promising sound of that, there was only one truly interesting and genuinely stunning specimen at the base. The one Till was about to see.
He is led into a separate room resembling a bunker, located even deeper than the main base. There he meets the head director of this scientific center — Mrs. Kang. A strong-willed and stern-looking woman who doesn't smile or pretend to be welcoming; she simply does her job. The place where they are is something like a control room — a large laboratory with numerous computers along the walls and various monitoring devices. At the front is a massive bulletproof glass wall, behind which sits a reservoir of blue water the size of several dozen meters. Roughly 60 meters in each direction, Till estimates.
"Show me."
"Sir, going down would be dangerous, but you can observe from here. We have cameras."
The underwater surveillance cameras, apparently installed around the entire perimeter of the aquarium, indeed show the area. Till steps closer, deciding to study them first. But strangely — none of the cameras show any living thing.
"Are you sure it's in there?" Till frowns, casting an unfriendly, probing look at the director, but she only squints back.
"I'm sorry, but it can hide as soon as it senses a stranger's presence."
"Senses a stranger's presence?" Till raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised, and looks back at the reservoir through the glass, as if trying to spot the cryptid with the naked eye. "What do you mean?"
Director Kang shrugs slightly, as if the question is irrelevant.
"The report stated that for some reason this creature can sense when strangers approach the enclosure too closely. At first, it hid from all the staff except the guy who found and rescued it. Apparently, it has some form of psyche and is capable of forming attachments to other beings while rejecting strangers who may pose a potential threat."
Till, however, was only half-listening. He had latched onto the only phrase that seemed significant to him.
"That guy who found it?" Till said in a strangely hushed voice, still staring into the reservoir with his arms crossed over his chest. Director Kang could sense the tension radiating from him but couldn't understand what was causing it.
"Yes. It was the son of a sailor who once went out to sea and got caught in a storm. Fortunately, the guy was a favorite of fate and survived. He was washed ashore on a deserted island, and by some miracle he had a military phone with him that could pick up a signal even in uninhabited, remote areas far from civilization. He quickly called for help and was rescued in time. However, about an hour after the first call, when a rescue team was already being sent, the guy called again and said he had found something on the shore that looked like a human and needed help. He described the creature as a mermaid, and luckily, the rescue service employees were sensible enough to contact us. Along with the rescue team, they sent one of our center's employees — lately cryptids have been found more and more often, despite the increase in false reports, and we were ordered to check every single case, even if it sounded like nonsense. By the way, your father is part of the team that signed that document about thorough investigation."
Till smirked, though not too cheerfully. Of course. After all, it was he who had spent several years nagging his dad that cryptids weren't fiction and that money should be invested in organizations studying them. It had taken him a long time to convince his father, until the man saw a yeti with his own eyes and his eyes lit up with excitement. Till knew that in his youth, before becoming rich, his father had been very interested in "supernatural things." Then, becoming a "serious adult," he had forgotten about that passion. After Till's mother died, he needed an outlet, a hobby — something to stir his soul and help him out of depression. Till needed it too, so, following in his father's footsteps, he found solace in studying cryptids. It was then, while attending a private school, that he learned there were entire organizations dedicated to studying unusual creatures hidden from the public eye so as not to disturb the angry and poor masses of people who already had enough problems in life.
Soon the hobby turned into an obsession, but until this moment Till had never managed to visit such a large-scale scientific center where so many interesting specimens were "stored." He had already seen real horned rabbits, tiny fairies (or rather, their corpses, because unfortunately these creatures quickly died in human hands), a supposed chupacabra, and, as mentioned, a yeti. None of them, despite their unusual nature and the fact that they truly existed and weren't human inventions, had brought Till the proper delight. He felt that nature was capable of much more. And so, as soon as he found information that a real mermaid was being held at a scientific base in South Korea, he immediately boarded his father's private jet and flew to Seoul. Well, more precisely, the "cooperation" with the Korean research base had begun six months earlier when Till convinced his father to donate a substantial sum for the needs of cryptozoologists. At that time he didn't yet know about the mermaid (or perhaps it hadn't been discovered yet), but subconsciously he felt that it was the Korean base that would bring him what he had been searching for his whole life.
Oh no, Till didn't consider himself a horny teenager chasing a seductive siren. He was driven solely by the curiosity of a person obsessed with the paranormal. He hadn't looked at photos of the specimen or read about it in advance — he wanted to see it alive, with his own eyes, and form his assumptions from scratch. What would it be? What would this cryptid look like? Would it be an ordinary mutated manatee or a real woman with a fish tail? Or maybe it would be more of a monster than a human — with webbed ears, gray skin, and black eyes like movie aliens? So many versions. While preparing for the trip and sitting in the expensive seat of the private jet, Till couldn't stop thinking, turning over thoughts about this mermaid in his head. And he was also very, very afraid of being disappointed.
What if they had tricked him and it really was just a manatee? Well, then out of pure childish resentment he would make his father cut all ties with the Korean base, damn it. After all, they still had the Americans and the Russians with similarly secret scientific research centers for capturing and studying cryptids.
"If there are cameras there, how could they miss this creature?" Till growled almost threateningly, looking around at the base staff. To which Director Kang only shrugged, as if she didn't take him seriously. It could have been infuriating, but Till only quietly snorted with smug satisfaction. After all, whether this center would continue to receive money from his father depended solely on his word. He had nothing to lose if the Koreans were rude to him. But the thought that the cameras couldn't capture this creature only heightened his interest even more.
After a long silence, during which Till drilled the director with his gaze, one of the employees finally couldn't stand it and explained:
"It is believed that it can change its coloration and blend in with its surroundings."
Till snorted. "Believed?"
The scientist nodded calmly, though nervousness was evident in his movements.
"We haven't yet documented the moment when the subject changes its skin color. For some reason, it always seems to find the cameras' blind spots, or it changes color instantly while moving, so it appears as if it simply disappears in the water. With other creatures, like octopuses, it happens smoothly and we can observe the color change, but with this one — no. It simply 'disappears' from the cameras, although other instruments show that it is still in the enclosure."
Till nods, listening attentively this time. This he can understand. So the mermaid instantly blends with its surroundings, and does so while moving, making it harder to notice. It creates the feeling that the cryptid was there one moment and gone the next, as if someone had cut the film. By the way, Till thinks, does this rule out human interference? More likely no than yes. He decides to talk to the director later about the staff observing the subject.
In short, that day Till never got to see the cryptid appear. He was inclined to believe the staff and the director, but the thought still arose that they were simply taking him for a fool and showing him an empty tank, and that the tracking devices indicating someone was in the reservoir might have been tampered with.
Therefore, a day later Till returns to the center with his father, who has already managed to resolve almost all the issues he had come to Korea for. Till was impatient to see a living mermaid; he had been thirsting for it for no less than several months, and vaguely for several years while studying other cryptids. Few would argue that mermaids seem far more mysterious and interesting than, say, a yeti — the existence of which had once thrilled his father.
One more reminder: Till was not a pervert, and he didn't care what the mermaid actually looked like in reality — a beautiful woman or a disgusting monster more like a fish. What worried him much more was whether this creature possessed consciousness. In short, whether it was possible to establish contact with it.
Gilbert Sommerfeld — that was his father's name — entered the laboratory as if he owned the place and immediately walked up to the glass behind which the reservoir was located. Till had hoped that in his father's presence the director and staff would panic and produce the mermaid on a silver platter, but none of them stirred, though their faces almost immediately turned pale and froze. They were clearly afraid of the elder Sommerfeld. But on the radar, the subject continued to swim in circles or dart from wall to wall, and sometimes just huddled in a corner and froze — yet nothing was visible in the water behind the glass, despite the water being almost transparent, only slightly bluish from the special solution.
"And where is it?" Till heard his father's deep, slightly gruff voice and mentally smirked. He was sure he would soon get to see what he so desperately wanted.
"It's still hiding, sir. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it," one of the employees began to explain — a short, unremarkable man with glasses. "The creature senses strangers' presence — and now there are two strangers here, so it's unlikely to show itself in the near future."
Gilbert narrowed his eyes, still not taking his gaze off the water.
"So there's nothing that can be done?" he says as if they are trying to joke with him. "What if we shock it with electricity or stun it somehow and pull it onto dry land?"
Several employees nearby gasp in fear at the statement.
"We can't," the director intervenes. Till silently observes the dialogue, nevertheless noting the woman's professional composure. He knows his father isn't speaking seriously. In reality, he is a kind man who doesn't want to harm living beings and sometimes (very often) treats cryptids much better than people. Once Gilbert told his son: it's because cryptids and animals, no matter what, aren't human — meaning they're much kinder. Animals don't intentionally wish harm on others. Neither do cryptids. Poor yetis hide from human cruelty rather than attack them — and even if they did, they would do so, like beasts, only for survival. Only humans can do evil for their own amusement.
"But we want to see this creature," Gilbert continues, playing the role these people are used to seeing: the unscrupulous rich man who doesn't care about others' feelings. "So what should we do?.."
The effect exceeds all expectations — an answer is immediately found. Some girl with round glasses and pink hair — "Mizi," her badge reads — raises her hand and timidly steps closer. Till gives her an uninterested glance, although the girl looks far too cute for someone wearing a lab coat and hidden underground. The thought flashes through his mind that this poor thing probably has no family or friends, because by signing the non-disclosure agreement, employees of such centers are literally cut off from the outside world. But these thoughts are immediately forgotten as soon as she starts speaking — now Till is focused on getting information.
"I-I think there's one way that might work. A humane way, I mean," she clarifies under her colleagues' worried gazes, and Till mentally smirks. "Remember, we mentioned that Iva... I mean, Subject BS-137 initially only trusted one person? Over time it got used to the other staff and started showing itself. I mean, perhaps it will want to appear now if we bring that guy back?"
Till's brain catches on the pronoun "he" the girl used, but his attention quickly shifts to the new mention of that guy. Who is this person who saved the mermaid and whom the creature trusts? Something unpleasant stirs inside Till, but he pushes the strange feelings away and focuses on the facts. Till doesn't want to think that he has imagined himself as the hero of those fantasy films where a teenager accidentally finds an extraordinary creature, saves it, and forms a deep emotional bond with it, thereby gaining a loyal and powerful friend. The power, of course, comes from its non-human, otherworldly nature. The hero instantly goes from loser to special simply because another non-human but powerful being becomes his friend and protector. People throughout the ages have wanted to stand out through connection with the supernatural world, inventing angels, gods, or "wonderlands" for that purpose. Till was too sensible to consider himself a "poor teenage hero" yearning for a connection with something "magical," yet... perhaps one cannot escape one's nature. Perhaps even as the son of one of the most influential people in the world and having access to everything he could desire, deep inside Till was still a lonely child in need of love. Naturally, Till himself did not analyze his own behavior so deeply, and right now he denied even the fact that he was already jealous of this mermaid toward some guy he hadn't even seen, simply because that guy had managed to become the savior of a powerful and loyal creature straight out of fairy tales.
Because no matter how much money and power Till had, in this situation the chosen one was not him, but this poor sailor's son who had the misfortune (or fortune?) of going out to the open sea in a storm. In Till's mind, this guy appeared as a mythical Odysseus who had overcome many trials and fought monsters to gain glory and become a demigod. Till himself in this narrative turned out to be not the main hero, but rather the hero's antithesis — his reflection, similar yet completely different. In the stories, he played the role of a jester for comparison, so that against Till's background the true hero, who had grown up poor and gained divinity through his own efforts, would rise even higher in the reader's eyes.
But while Till was immersed in his dark thoughts, his father, as usual, had already done everything for him.
"Yes," Gilbert said, too indifferently and quite pleased at the same time, as if betraying his son's wishes. "Let's do that. Call that guy. Another question — why did you let him go in the first place?"
Director Kang stepped forward, clearing her throat.
"He lived at the base for some time, but refused to join our ranks, and we had no right to detain a civilian. We only took a non-disclosure agreement from him. It seems the boy fought hard for a long time to have the subject released back into the sea, but he could do nothing against the organization's power. And in the end, he said something like 'I can't watch his suffering, I have to return to ordinary life, no matter how painful it is.' I think he really had no choice, and I understand him. He didn't have the education to work for us officially, and staying as an errand boy dependent on the company's will, just to see this creature every day, would have been extremely irrational."
Till listened attentively to the director's unexpectedly emotional story, although it was all said in a cool tone. Damn it, but a real drama was unfolding before him. That guy, apparently, had developed feelings for this creature and wanted to save it, but couldn't, no matter how hard he fought. And what else was left for such a person who had lost to a multi-million-dollar secret corporation? Only to admit defeat and continue living, pretending nothing had happened, but deep in his heart cherishing the memories of the meeting and the feelings of parting and his own helplessness. In his place, Till would probably have felt like the most pathetic and unhappy being on the planet, because he had literally touched something great and forbidden — only to lose it in an instant, and now he couldn't even share his experiences with the world because of the non-disclosure agreement.
Well. Some part of Till rejoiced at this story. Because it meant the obstacle had been removed from his path. That guy could no longer be connected to the mermaid in any way, except on the level of emotions and memories. But emotions and memories could always be replaced with new ones, right?
This calmed him down a little, and soon he and his father left the base to return once the staff had called the sailor's son back.
Till no longer worried about him, feeling that everything would work out, though a residual disappointment still lingered in the pit of his stomach.