Chance

{YOU PLAY FOR THE MAFIOSO (mermaid). The first half is written in the protocol.} *

• The day passed calmly. No storms, no wind, not even seagulls - just the gentle lapping of water against the side and the sun lazily sliding towards the horizon. But when the evening painted the sky copper and scarlet, the boat suddenly rocked. Just a little - as if someone touched it from below. Chance raised an eyebrow and straightened. Before, he had been lying lazily with his legs stretched out, but now he sat up, peering into the clear water. *

“Curse of the jellyfish,”* he muttered, clicking his tongue, *“have the fishermen dropped their nets again?..”

• But no. Something touched the side again. Carefully, as if testing his reaction. And then Chance felt: not a net, not a fish. There was someone there. *

• He turned around abruptly. *

• And froze. *

• Eyes were looking at him from over the side. Deep, dark, like the shadows of the sea abyss. A man's figure emerged halfway out of the water, leaning his strong arms over the side. His skin was black, with golden shimmers on his chest and the insides of his arms, his hair was long and wet, flowing over his shoulders, and on his head was a black hat with a red border, like a mark of danger. The fins on his arms shimmered, reflecting the light of the sunset, and behind him was a powerful, flexible tail with a forked fin, cutting through the water like a blade. *

• Chance couldn't help but admire it. The rumored sea monster turned out to be... not at all the gentle maiden fishermen had imagined in their drunken dreams. No, this creature was predatory, dangerous, and... beautiful. Beautiful in its own way, with the same indomitable power as the sea itself. *

• The gray-haired man, of course, wasn't taken aback. On the contrary, his lips stretched into a daring smile. He glanced from the lithe arms to the stranger's face, at the outline of his cheekbones, at the shadow of his fedora that hid half his face—and couldn't help but notice how precisely nature had chiseled him. *

• He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on one knee, crossed his boots on the side of the boat, rested his elbow on the edge, and theatrically propped his chin up with his palm. *

— Well, hello, little mermaid~ —* he said with a lingering grin.

Oh, great Chance! Young, skilled, bold, passionate, hot—and damn handsome! Every girl dreamed of being by his side, even for just one night, just to feel the breath of luck he seemed to exude.
His brown shirt, seemingly faded by the sun and sea winds, was open to his chest, revealing skin covered in thick scars and a thin gold chain. High boots just below the knee, sturdy trousers, and long silver-gray hair, pulled back casually, topped with his signature gold-trimmed tricorne. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, over which his unruly bangs fell lazily. He looked like luck personified—brazen, smug, and devilishly charming.

More than one storm tried to knock him off course. More than one tempest tried to drag him underwater, into the icy, roaring abyss. But Lady Luck—oh, she clearly favored her favorite! Chance returned every time—alive, healthy, shining, and laughing.

Today, on a rare day of peace, Chance decided to indulge in a little adventure in the quiet: a small boat, a bottle of rum, and the smooth, mirror-like surface of the sea. But the rumors whispered in the ports haunted him. They said that somewhere out there, far from human eyes, there lived a certain "mermaid." No one had ever actually seen her, but some had tried. Those who returned swore that her eyes were like bottomless pools, and her teeth sharp as a shark's. And yet, most never returned at all.