'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

Mize swam along the narrow canal, noticeably lighter in both mood and movement.

His tail glided with more ease now, cutting through the water like a happy little dagger.

Gone was the stiff, jittery flapping from earlier, now replaced by a fluid, almost playful rhythm.

He was no longer trapped in that dreadful void of endless black.

No more bottomless chambers.

No more ominous pressure weighing down on his fishy soul.

For once, he could see where he was going, and that alone was enough to make him feel like the luckiest fish in existence.

Cough!

Luckiest fish goddess :)

If fish could cry, there might’ve been a glimmering tear sliding down from the corner of his oval eyes, tucked near the sides of his head.

Not from sadness, but sheer relief.

He even sniffled, though that too might've just been his dramatic imagination kicking in again.

“Home. Yes. Bed. Yes. Mental stability... soon,” Mize mumbled under his breath, sounding far too cheerful for someone shaped like a flamboyant salmon.

With a little hum, he started to sing to himself.

Hmmm hmmm hmmmm~

It echoed softly in the water, bouncing off the curved stone walls like a secret lullaby meant only for himself.

Up above...

“Hey, bro?”

A muffled voice cut through the wooden divide of two bathroom stalls.

Somewhere inside the castle, two guards sat side by side, each in their own cubicle, trying to finish their nightly business in peace.

“What now?” came the gruff reply from the next stall over.

“You hear that?”

“What?”

“I think... I heard something.”

A brief pause.

Then a suspicious fart echoed loudly.

“...That?” the second man asked.

“No, no! Not that! I swear I heard, like, humming.”

“Humming?” came the dry, unimpressed tone from next door.

“Yeah. Like... a girl’s voice. Real soft.”

The stall went quiet.

Then:

“Bro.”

“What?”

“I’m begging you. Don’t go there.”

“Go where?!”

“I’m not judging, but if you start imagining cute ghost girls under your toilet seat, I am not covering your night shifts.”

“I’m serious, man!”

Fart.

They both fell silent.

“I swear I heard it,” the first guard muttered again, voice dropping to a nervous whisper. “Right below us.”

The second guard finally groaned and flushed. “Listen, if the princess of fish-people wants to serenade your ass while you’re shitting, then that’s between you and the spirits, bro. I’m not doing this tonight.”

Back below…

The water continued to ripple softly as Mize glided past the underground plumbing system, completely unaware of the spiritual crisis he’d just caused above ground.

His humming didn’t stop. In fact, it got a bit louder.

Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm~

“Almost there,” he mumbled with a flick of his tail, eyes gleaming with unfiltered joy.

And tonight, he swore to himself, he’d break in, sneak through, and sleep like the divine being he truly was.

Mhmmm mhmmm mhmmm~

Mize’s humming drifted gently through the narrow current, his voice bright and lively, echoing off the damp stone walls like a fish-sized opera singer mid-performance.

His movements matched the tune, tail swishing with flair, body gliding in little waves as if every flip was part of a dance only he could hear.

The canal he was in now was noticeably tighter than the larger one connected to the castle wall.

The space was cramped, sure... but Mize didn’t mind it.

In fact, he found it oddly comforting. The close quarters meant predictability.

He could see where he was going, sense what was around him, and for once tonight, nothing was shrouded in bottomless darkness.

And that? That was enough to make a fish feel alive again.

The further he swam, the more resistance he started to feel, like the water was pressing back, thickening against each movement.

“Ohhh?” Mize blinked, his side-positioned eyes narrowing as he squinted forward. “Feels like I’m getting close to the source.”

Excitement flickered across his oddly expressive fish face, and he flapped harder, tail slicing through the water like a fan blade on full spin.

Then he came to a halt.

Up ahead, the canal split. A clean fork. Two separate paths.

Both looked identical, narrow, damp, and flowing, but one veered to the right and the other to the left.

Mize floated in place, staring at both in dead silence.

“Right...” he muttered, glancing to one side.

“Or left...?”

He squinted, scrutinizing the dark tunnel mouths as if they were ancient riddles. “Hmmm, which one should I choose...?”

Neither looked more inviting than the other. But one had to lead home, right? Or to the pond, at least.

“Okay, let’s be rational here,” he said, nodding to himself. “One of these probably leads to the source. The other... to sweet, glorious escape.”

He crossed his fins dramatically. “And as they say...”

“Right is always RIGHT!”

A mischievous glint lit his eyes. “Muehehehe~”

With zero hesitation and absolute confidence in a logic built entirely on clichés, Mize flung himself into the right passage.

His tail flicked with strength, launching him forward like a fish-shaped torpedo.

And sure enough, just ahead, a faint glow appeared. A soft curve of light spilling across the water, painting it with warmth.

“Th-there it is!” he gasped, heart racing.

His little fish face morphed with almost human joy. His fins fluttered like hands, tail flapping wildly.

“HOME!” he shouted in triumph. “HOME SWEET HOME!”

He reached the edge. The light grew brighter.

Victory was in reach.

Plop!

He broke through the surface, shooting out of the canal with triumphant flair.

And immediately regretted everything.

Time slowed.

Midair, water still trailing behind him, Mize’s wide fish eyes locked onto the figure before him.

There, lounging against the edge of a steaming hot bath, was a man.

Bare-chested, skin lightly flushed from the heat, broad shoulders gleaming in the soft steam rising all around him.

His head was tilted back in a half-relaxed sprawl, one arm draped casually over the bath’s rim.

It was the most annoyingly attractive person Mize could’ve stumbled upon.

Sculpted in ways Mize would never admit out loud.

And their eyes met.

Right then.

In the worst possible way.

Plop.

Mize landed into the water with a pathetic splash, vanishing into the bath like a missile that had lost its way.

Didn’t even move.

He just... floated.

Belly-up. Limbs limp. Tongue lolling dramatically from his fishy mouth.

Dead.

Or at least pretending to be.

The man in the bath blinked once.

Then again.

Slowly, his gaze dropped to the water.

To the fish.

To the water again.

To the fish again.

He stared.

Mize floated.

The steam drifted lazily in the awkward silence.

The man raised an eyebrow.

And Mize, still playing dead, cursed everything in the universe under his breath.

Time froze.

Not in a metaphorical way, but in the most literal, painful, awkward way possible.

There was a fish.

There was a man.

And they were both sitting in a massive, steaming royal bathtub nestled deep inside a castle.

Steam curled softly in the air, dancing in gentle plumes above the water.

Lion-shaped marble fountains carved into the bath’s corners endlessly spewed warm water with a quiet splashing sound, the only consistent background noise in this wildly uncomfortable situation.

The floor tiles shimmered with golden accents, and mosaics lined the walls depicting scenes of battles, gods, and celestial figures, none of which, sadly, included a fish being caught in this exact predicament.

Mize would’ve appreciated the aesthetic under normal circumstances.

In fact, he quietly admitted to himself that this place would’ve been perfect for a slow, relaxing Sunday soak.

But it wasn’t Sunday.

It was Friday.

And tonight was the kind of awkward that deserved an award.

There he was, Mize.

A fish. Belly-up, floating in a steaming pool like a poorly animated dead prop.

X’s marked over his large oval eyes, tongue lolling out the side like some tragic comedy sketch.

His gills weren’t even moving properly. He’d committed to the bit.

And just across from him, reclined against the polished stone, was Liam.

The Yama Lord.

Black hair tousled and damp, faintly shimmering under the golden bathlight like starlit silk. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Deep golden eyes peered at the floating intruder with a level of calm scrutiny that made Mize’s entire soul wither.

Liam’s arms were casually spread behind his head, his sculpted chest subtly rising with each breath.

The man looked every bit the celestial tyrant he was rumored to be, and just as effortlessly smug.

What made it worse wasn’t the silence, but the fact that Liam hadn’t really reacted at all.

No shouting.

No questioning.

Just... thoughtful observation.

Swish.

Mize could feel it.

The breeze from Liam’s subtle shift. The way the air moved across his belly like a warning sign.

Then, worse still, his eyes, his traitorous, shameless, sinful eyes, drifted.

Lower.

His gaze scanned the abs. The very ones he’d vowed not to notice.

The kind that only existed in artistic renditions and delusional teenage dreams.

Sharp ridges, each muscle firm and defined. Droplets of water slid down the grooves like they were rehearsed.

‘Yeah… I’m absolutely getting dominated if we ever get to the bed,’ Mize admitted internally, gulping hard.

It was supposed to be rejection.

Firm, proud rejection.

Instead, it was... anticipation.

The cursed kind.

He kept staring, up across the torso, past the wide chest, finally meeting those piercing golden eyes again.

And as their gazes locked for a second time, Mize’s gills practically shriveled from embarrassment.

Liam chuckled, low, deep, and smooth like warm honey laced with amusement.

“You like what you’re seeing, little fish?” he murmured, voice soft but unmistakably teasing.

!!!

Mize flatlined. His fish soul visibly hovered over his body.

If he had legs right now, he would’ve kicked himself across the surface and launched into orbit.

But he didn’t.

So he defaulted to the only option left:

Play dead harder.

Maybe if he laid still long enough, Liam would lose interest.

Maybe he’d just get scooped out and thrown into the pond like a pity goldfish.

But of course, fate wasn’t that kind. Not when Liam was involved.

The Yama Lord leaned in slightly, expression casual, even thoughtful.

One hand braced under his chin, the other casually brushing his damp hair back.

“I heard,” Liam mused, completely unbothered, “that sharing a bath with a fish is great for a man’s longevity.”

Mize screamed internally.

W H A T.

As if!

And then...

Then...

Liam started reaching out.

His fingers extended toward the floating fish corpse with the slow, deliberate patience of a man fully committed to whatever strange new game he was playing.

No hesitation.

Just a smug smirk and a handful of impending doom.

Mize’s body jolted into action.

SLAP.

Silence.

Water rippled from the impact.

Liam froze mid-motion, eyes wide in genuine surprise.

His hand, now gently cradling the fish, hovered just above the water’s surface.

Mize, still nestled in his palm, had smacked Liam across the cheek with his tail in a panic-fueled act of desperation.

It wasn’t hard.

It wasn’t violent.

It was just… sudden.

The two stared at each other.

One man. One fish.

Both still.

Both silent.

And both completely unsure of what the hell just happened.

Mize’s tail twitched slightly.

Liam blinked.

And in that quiet moment, the absurdity of it all set in.

The slap. The dead fish act. The unsolicited abs gawking.

Tonight had truly, irrevocably, gone off the rails.

"I am just a fish, trust me"