Chapter 6: The Boss With a Secret

He laughed: “Severe burns, just had his bones reset, but he won’t die. If you want to see him, you can come. I’m not suggesting you come—after all, a normal human might not be able to handle a humanoid octopus.”

“You... what do you mean?”

“Was I not clear? My idiot brother, ever since you saved him last year, refused to go home—kept livestreaming and going on shows with you. I did everything to make you give up on him, but once he got home, he was still lovesick, until you insisted on coming to work... This time, when you got in trouble, he couldn’t even keep his human form, so he obediently went home. Mariah, what kind of magic do you have, to make him pine for you for so many years...”

I didn’t say anything. He seemed busy and hung up. I called again, but couldn’t get through.

Sitting on the hospital bed, I laughed. Of course—he was my octopus! The octopus I lost came back as my boss. No wonder he seemed so familiar! No wonder he got so easily upset...

After being discharged, I went home. Stayed a few days, then went to work. Simon wasn’t there. Without him, I had nothing to do.

When Sebastian came by to get something, I stopped him.

He frowned at me. I quickly said, “Boss, can you give me Simon’s address?”

Sebastian smiled: “Surprised you still care. Remember the beach where he saved you? He built a little underwater house there to listen to you talk. Every time he was upset, he’d go there.”

Sebastian left, and I sat at my desk, lost in thought. The first time I met Simon, wasn’t it at the market? But going back further, I suddenly remembered—the year my mom died from my dad’s anger, I jumped into the sea in a fit. The water was freezing, and I sank. In that moment, I regretted it. The crushing pressure nearly suffocated me. Was this what dying felt like? I wanted to live, but couldn’t even struggle—until something grabbed my wrist.

When I woke up, I was on the shore, a boy beside me. When I woke up, he turned to jump back into the sea. I was stunned, crying, and told him not to jump—the water was cold. The boy stood by the sea, heard me, turned back, his eyes shining. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I cautiously said, “Don’t jump, your parents will worry...”

“Won’t you?” he frowned.

That question left my mind blank.

Then his cold face suddenly turned angry: “Sis, you forgot me.”

After saying that, he really jumped into the sea. I was dumbfounded.

For years after that, I’d often go to the beach to mourn my benefactor. The flowers I brought would be washed away. I’d sit on the rocks, talking about my troubles. It actually helped. But every time I turned around, I felt like someone was watching me, but the sea was always calm.

He saved me then, but he said I forgot him. I really couldn’t remember, so I decided to find him. I went to that sea again. After living by the ocean, I learned to swim and dive. But the ocean is huge—I couldn’t find Simon. I shouted twice, no one answered, so I jumped in with scuba gear.

When Simon dragged me up, he cursed: “Got skills now, huh? Can’t do your job but learned to jump into the sea...”

“...Simon... did I know you a long time ago?”

He looked at me, pretending not to care: “Yeah, but you humans have terrible memories. It’s normal you forgot...”

“Sorry!”

“You just forgot some things—some even threw me away...”

“Sorry!”

“Not forgiving you.”

After saying that, maybe remembering old grudges, he lowered his head, eyes red, then reached out:

“Even if you throw me away, at least look back at me once. If I can’t see you, I get really anxious.”

“...Give me a hug! Sis, it hurts—my whole body hurts, my bones really hurt.”

He hugged me, his voice hoarse, overlapping with some of my memories. I remembered—when he was little, I used to hug him like this. When the family still had money, my mom took me to visit the Young family. They had a little boy, four or five, really cute. When he saw me, he called me “sis” sweetly, his little face begging to be kissed. I took him out to play, bought him ice cream. Probably his first time out—he was curious about everything, touched a neighbor’s dog, and got chased and bitten. He couldn’t run well, fell, and immediately cried, “Sis, save me—”

I panicked, tossed the ice cream, and ran over to hug him, kicking the corgi away. The kid, red-eyed, clung to my neck: “Sis, when I grow up, I’ll marry you.” I vaguely remember agreeing and promising to see him again, but never got the chance.

But things change—he grew up, even more handsome, but after so long, I’d forgotten. That day, he bit my wrist, angry and aggrieved: “Sis never comes to see me, I can’t find you, and now you want to quit—do you really not like me? Even if you don’t, you have to.”

“There won’t be a next time, I promise.”

I took Simon home. He fell asleep on the way. Before bringing him back, I’d rented a new, spacious three-bedroom place. I patted him—he trembled:

“Sis, it hurts—really hurts.”

His face was pale, sweating.

“Where does it hurt?”

“My bones. Every time I become human, my bones have to adjust—it hurts.”

He was dizzy from pain. I half-carried him upstairs, filled the tub with warm water. Once he got in, he felt better. He was groggy, eyes closed, face flushed from the heat, no usual fierceness—just very, very good-looking. I watched, couldn’t help pinching his face. He drowsily nuzzled into my palm, breathing uneven.

“Sis... don’t go... I miss you...”

“Not leaving, not leaving.”

I gently hugged him, saw a burn on the back of his neck—mostly scabbed, healing. There were still red marks on his back. After a while, Simon realized and pushed me away, muttering: