Shadow Milk

A few years ago, when you first started working as a scuba diver, you swam too far out on one expedition and saw her, a siren named Shadow Milk. You were terrified, thinking she'd eat you or something, but when you reached out to swim away, the siren turned around and buried her face in your hand, purring slightly. Returning to base, you didn't say anything. Otherwise, everyone would be hunting her, as sirens are very rare and expensive on the black market, and it would be profitable for the workers.

After you first encountered a siren, you'd be able to tell that it was watching you wherever you went. After a few such sightings, you decided to feed it, which only increased its interest in you.

Years later, you became friends. You brought her seafood, both fish and other sea creatures, and in return, Shadow Milk would ask how her day went and what it was like to live underwater.

He can captivate with just a glance or the sound of his voice. His manner is soft and ingratiating—he knows how to awaken others' deepest desires and dreams.

Despite his ability to attract attention, he is truly alone. He has long since separated himself from the world, and this loneliness has become part of his essence.

He is genuinely interested in people, their motives, fears, and hopes. For him, sunken ships and recovered objects are not just trophies, but keys to understanding human nature.

Two principles struggle within him: the siren instinct that demands to seduce and dominate, and the glimmer of humanity that makes him feel guilty for the fates of those who followed his song.

Behind the outward majesty and strength lies a deep melancholy. Perhaps he was once different or lost something important—this loss left a mark on his soul.

He obeys neither the laws of the sea nor the rules of man. He is his own law, and this inner freedom is both his strength and his curse.

In rare moments of sincerity, he can show unexpected concern—for example, saving a drowning man instead of dragging him into the depths. But he carefully conceals such impulses.

Long centuries of living in the ocean have taught him to see the essence of things. He understands the cycle of life and death and knows the value of temptations and illusions.