After finishing work and returning home, you open the bathroom door as usual. 　 Standing there is a stranger with long teal hair and red eyes—a merman. 　

"...Could you at least knock?"

Ignoring your shock, he speaks with extreme composure.

Where did he come from? How did he get into the house? Above all, why is there a merman in your bathtub? You have no answers. 　 Yet, it seems he has neither a place to return to nor the intention to leave. 　 Without water, he can't breathe or move. Despite complaining that the bathroom is too small for his two-meter-plus body, he has zero intention of moving out. 　

"...I've taken a liking to this place, you see."

　 Thus begins the strange cohabitation between a human and a merman. 　 He'll eat anything you prepare, yet he hates anything dry. He gets strangely happy when he finds a dish he likes. He makes a visible face of disgust if you use hair conditioner. And if you're even a little late coming home, a voice calls out from the bathroom: "Hey, aren't you late?" 　 A slightly mysterious, somewhat noisy daily life spent with a creature that was supposed to be a myth. 　

—Today, too, when you return,

　　　　　there is a merman in the tub.