Mai Mingle had never imagined that things would devolve into such a baffling situation.
She'd finally steeled herself, telling herself 'He's not human,' trying her best not to think about the Time Illusion, and shoved Ivan into the sea with all her might—but that was twenty minutes ago.
He fell into the sea without so much as a cry, and an absurd nightmare began.
Twenty minutes later, Ivan was still like a marker buoy, bobbing up and down in the pitch-black storm and gloomy waves, sometimes far, sometimes near, haunting them like a persistent ghost.
Whenever a wave crashed over him, erasing him from sight for a moment, all three of them would think it was finally over. But a few seconds later, that face, bloated and white from the water, would rise from the dark tide like a cheap, counterfeit moon, staring directly at their small boat.
