Offending the Guest

The ship docked at the wharf.

As the mooring lines were thrown out, Klein spotted the figure on the shore.

Nelisa stood at the end of the pier, followed by two of the chamber's workers.

She stood there empty-handed, her skirt fluttering in the sea breeze. Her expression was one Klein had seen many times before: polite, thorough, and perfectly calculating.

Klein wasn't surprised by this.

While the ship was still in the outer sea, he had sensed something laid out beneath the surface—an array, a perception network Nelisa had deployed in the coastal waters to track ships entering and leaving the harbor.

In his perception, that array was like a flattened spider web, thin and symmetrical, with nearly equal distances between each node. The craftsmanship was meticulous; the person who had laid it certainly hadn't cut any corners.

In his mind, he gave the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce's intelligence capabilities another half-star.

The ship steadied. Klein jumped onto the pier and reached back to give Ophelia a hand. Their movements were casual, fluid with the muscle memory of a practiced pair.

Aphros did not follow.

She cowered on the other side of the ship, revealing only half her face as she peered over the edge of the hull toward the pier. Her grayish-green eyes blinked rapidly, her gaze darting between Nelisa and the two workers with the frequency of a startled fish.

Nelisa had already stepped forward to meet them.

“Mr. Klein, Ms. Ophelia.” Her greeting was formal and proper, containing exactly the right amount of etiquette without any unnecessary small talk. “Was the journey smooth?”

“It was fine.” Klein brushed the salt stains from his cuffs. “The wind was in our favor, so we returned faster than we left.”

Nelisa nodded, her gaze sweeping imperceptibly across the hull before pausing for a breath at the waterline.

“As expected of you two.” Her tone was balanced, her smile perfectly controlled. “You bring back such a grand surprise after just one trip to sea.”

A soft splash came from the other side of the ship.

Klein caught it out of the corner of his eye—Aphros’s face had vanished. The fingers that had been gripping the gunwale had retracted, leaving only wet marks on the wood. The mermaid had submerged half her body, hiding herself in the ship's shadow.

Klein didn't turn back to look for her, nor did he call out to her.

He made a more sensible choice—he pretended nothing had happened and continued talking to Nelisa.

“There are a few things to coordinate now that we’re back,” he said casually. “First—I’ll compile a list of the samples collected during this trip. You can arrange for someone to collect them according to the list.”

Nelisa nodded. The worker behind her holding the ledger had already flipped to a new page, his pen hovering over the paper in anticipation.

“Second, the creatures released from the sirens do not appear to be polluted for now.” Klein paused, choosing his words conservatively. “A few species are aggressive, but that’s biological instinct, which is a different matter from the erosion of the will of the deep sea. You can think of them as a group of new species dropped into this world out of thin air. Aside from their unusual origin, there is nothing inherently malevolent about them.”

“Is that a preliminary conclusion?” Nelisa asked.

“Yes, preliminary.” Klein didn't make any absolute claims. “The sample size isn't large enough yet. Some things require long-term observation to be certain. So, the third point—I plan to stay here for a while longer to keep an eye on these things and make the data more robust. I might need to borrow the workshop's equipment and materials for a bit longer.”

“Those are minor matters,” Nelisa replied briskly, her speaking pace steady. “The workshop was prepared for you in the first place. Equipment and materials will be replenished at any time, and if you need extra hands, you only need to ask.”

As she spoke, her posture was impeccable—neither overly eager nor distant, her sense of propriety handled perfectly. For someone of her level in business, the word “cooperation” was never just lip service; every word she spoke landed exactly where the other party needed it most.

At this point, the conversation should have ended. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and everything that needed to be agreed upon had been settled. They could have gone their separate ways.

But Nelisa did not turn to leave.

Her gaze shifted a fraction of a degree, landing on the ship’s waterline. The angle was precisely controlled—she wasn't staring or looking with wide-eyed wonder; rather, in the gaps of a normal conversation, her eyes naturally drifted there and then returned.

“Mr. Klein,” her voice remained unchanged, keeping the same tone as before. “The one beneath the ship… how do you plan to arrange for her?”

“Treat her as a guest,” Klein said.

Nelisa’s brow twitched. The movement was tiny, but Klein saw it.

“A guest?”

She repeated the word. Her tone was flat, lacking any hint of doubt, serving more as a confirmation—Are you sure you want to use that definition?

Klein knew what she was thinking.

A “guest” meant she wasn't a specimen, wasn't experimental material, and wasn't a dangerous object that needed to be locked up and guarded. A guest had the right to act autonomously, had to be given face, and required someone to take responsibility if anything went wrong.

To a chamber president, the word “guest” was followed by a long list of hidden costs.

“Yes, a guest,” Klein repeated the word without adding any further explanation.

Nelisa pursed her lips slightly.

She didn't press him. Instead, her gaze quickly retraced its path—glancing at Klein’s face, then at Ophelia, who had remained silent the entire time, before finally dropping back to the water.

Nothing could be seen in the shadow of the ship. The wooden planks blocked the light, leaving the seawater dark and murky.

But just a second ago, something in that shadow had moved—a very light, very quick movement, the kind of subtle ripple that spreads when something brushes against the water’s surface.

Nelisa withdrew her gaze.

She paused for a beat. It wasn't a long pause, but Klein could tell she was weighing something.

“I was improper,” Nelisa spoke, her phrasing shifting to a tone half a note softer than before. “I didn't watch my tongue just now. If I made her feel uncomfortable, I will apologize to her in person later.”

Klein glanced at her, the corners of his mouth relaxing. “There’s no need to be so formal. She doesn't quite understand those intricacies yet. Just treat her normally—don't be too polite, but don't be too distant either.”

He paused, then added, “Her name is Aphros.”

Nelisa committed the name to memory, nodding with crisp efficiency. She turned to the two workers behind her and whispered a few instructions. The one with the ledger closed his book and ran toward the harbor, while the one carrying the crates set the empty ones on the pier and followed.

“I’ll have someone clear out the freshwater pool first and have it ready by the end of the day,” Nelisa said, turning back, her tone already switched back to business mode. “If she has specific requirements for water quality, tell me in advance, and I’ll have someone adjust it.”

“Sea water,” Klein corrected. “She comes from the sea.”

“…Sea water.” Nelisa’s fingers gripped the side of her skirt for a moment before letting go. “Understood. I’ll arrange it.”