Chapter 2: The Octopus and the Price Tag

But his fanbase just kept growing. Someone even offered big money to buy the octopus. Someone offered a hundred grand, and I was floored. Late at night, staring at the offer, I couldn’t sleep. I went to check on him—he was sleeping soundly, lying on a rock with a piece of seaweed as a blanket. Watching him for a while, I just started laughing. In the end, I sighed and turned the offer down. No way.

Casper got so famous that a pet reality show reached out to me. They offered a lot of money, so I went. It was my first time taking Casper out, and honestly, I was nervous—what if people thought he was too weird? But when I got there, I realized Casper wasn’t even the strangest pet in the bunch. Besides me, there were all kinds of pets and owners on the show: someone had a tarantula, another had a giant parrot, and someone even brought a bearded dragon. It was wild—I just quietly followed the crowd, carrying my octopus carrier.

The first segment was a pet intelligence game called “Can You Understand Your Owner’s Command?” There were rows of voice buttons lined up in front of the pets. No contest—octopuses are smart, but Casper? He was next-level. While other owners struggled to get their pets to do anything, Casper had already finished the task and started pressing the talking buttons just for fun.

“I, want, to eat, ice cream.”

“No, too cold.”

I stood by the tank, massaging his arms while refusing. Honestly, a little ice cream in the summer was fine, but hey, I’m the owner! I can’t let my pet boss me around, right?

The next second, his tentacle slipped from my hand and pressed another button.

“Jerk.”

...

You little brat, cursing at me in front of the whole crew.

“Jerk, jerk, jerk, ice cream, jerk, ice cream...”

He mashed the buttons over and over—even the staff were doubled over laughing. In the end, I caved and went to buy ice cream, carrying the octopus carrier like a soccer mom.

On the way back, I sat on the curb, took a bite, and gave a scoop to the octopus. The ice cream plopped into the water and he slurped it up. The staff took the chance to ask, “You and your pet seem super close, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re tight!”

“How long have you known each other?”

“About six months!”

“I’ve seen your streams. You bought this octopus at the market, right? What made you decide to keep him?”

Keep... Actually, it wasn’t really me keeping him—he was choosing to stay with me. With Casper’s brains, if he didn’t want to stick around, he’d have Houdini’d his way out ages ago. But I glanced down at my wrist.

“Because... he’s pretty...”

“Shallow.” This wasn’t from the staff, but from the voice button in my carrier.

“...What’s wrong with being shallow?” I shot back, ready to argue with the octopus again.

“Shallow, likes, good-looking, I, good-looking, like, me...”

...

That logic—he’s the kind of guy who’d sit next to you during the SATs and copy your answers.

I couldn’t help but crack up. The staff backed away, and I leaned over the carrier, “Come on, keep talking, big guy.”

“Jerk, eat, ice cream.”

That bland, robotic voice. I unwrapped another ice cream. The summer was perfect—his little arm brushed my wrist.

“Shallow, likes me.”

“Like, like.”

The summer wind blew, sycamore leaves landed on my head, and Casper’s arm snatched them away to play.

It wasn’t the first time I’d let Casper go, but every time he hit the sea, he’d swim a quick circle and then strand himself in the shallows, waiting for me to come over and nuzzle him. At first, I figured it was just because the water was shallow. Later, I learned to dive and even rented a boat to take him to deeper water.

This time, he dove right in, clearly happier in the deep sea, but after one lap, he still came back. His tentacle reached out and grabbed my wrist, like he wanted me to come play underwater with him.

I’d lived by the ocean for a few years and picked up some diving skills—mostly by trial and error. I brought my gear, hesitated for a second, but finally dove in.

Only underwater did I realize how huge Casper really was when he swam, and only then did I see his true form. He was massive, his semi-transparent skin looking downright eerie in the dark water. All the fish scattered like they’d seen a ghost. When he spread out, his body was enormous, his powerful arms enough to make anyone want to hightail it back to shore. But thinking of him as Casper, I couldn’t help but relax.

He didn’t let go of me—two arms led me forward. Underwater, I couldn’t tell which way was up, but he skillfully guided me through the fish. At first, I had no clue where he was taking me, until we reached a stone cave.

It was gorgeous—full of giant coral clusters, like a hidden underwater castle. He let me swim inside. There, I saw a big shell with a round black pearl inside. Suddenly, I got it—why people were obsessed with these creatures. It was stunning, glowing in the deep sea. Casper rolled up the pearl, turned back, and just when I thought he’d hand it over, he hugged the pearl and bolted.

...

I chased him all the way back to the boat. When I finally climbed aboard, he slapped the side of the boat, holding the pearl just out of reach—like he knew exactly what I was thinking, as if to say, “You’re not leaving without me, and you’re definitely not getting this pearl unless you take me home.”

In the end, I still took him home. Honestly, every time I let him go, I was terrified—terrified he’d never come back. I lowered my head: “Casper! Think about it. If I take you home, you’re mine from now on!”

Casper’s arms were long—he hooked my wrist, shoved the pearl into my hand, wrapped my wrist, and asked me to help him into the boat. He obediently slipped back into his little water box. The box wasn’t big, just enough to fit him.