Chapter 1: Tears, Tails, and the Villain's Challenge

Turned into the tearful mermaid princess.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks, salty like the ocean itself. The water around me shimmers with every sob, and somewhere above, a conch shell echoes faintly. My big, glassy eyes are shimmering, just as Amma used to describe when I was little and dramatic in front of the TV—‘dekho, bilkul jalpari lag rahi hai, bas rona kam karo thoda!’

The system wants me to bully the brooding villain who hasn’t turned into a naga yet.

Honestly, of all the tasks, why is the system so obsessed with this “bully” business? I mean, we’re in the four rivers, currents swirling, seaweed floating by like lost dupattas, and I’m here shivering—not from cold, but pure dread. Still, duty is duty, hai na?

I swim up to the villain, nerves jangling like temple bells, and—before I can overthink—swat his cheek with my fish tail, just like Amma used to thwack my back with her dupatta.

I can’t believe I actually did it. My fish tail feels heavy—maybe from guilt, maybe with a pinch of secret pride. Water ripples away, and for a moment, he just stares, stunned, his hair plastered to his forehead.

B-besharam.

My voice comes out as a squeak, but inside I’m repeating it for effect: Besharam, besharam! I picked up that word from all the aunties in my colony who used to scold the neighbourhood boys. Today, it’s my weapon.

The system nags at me: Be bold! Yell at him! Hit him harder!

It’s as if my mother’s voice got trapped in this system—‘Zyada zor se bol! Dar kis baat ka hai?’ There’s a strange comfort, even as I flinch at the command. I can practically see the system rolling its digital eyes at me.

Later, the villain transforms into a naga and becomes the ruler of the four rivers.

Whispers travel in the river currents—even the tiny guppy fish are whispering, their voices mixing with the steady ping of river crabs tapping on old oyster shells—gossip spreads faster than my colony’s WhatsApp group. ‘Arjun ka badla le liya!’ River stories move quicker than any society WhatsApp chain.

He pins my fish tail down with a scaled claw sprouting from his lower body, his voice rough and low.

I gasp—he’s stronger, more imposing. My tail shudders beneath his grip, and my heart does a little dhak-dhak, like a tabla at Ganesh Chaturthi.

Not enough? You want more?

His voice sends a chill through me—it’s a challenge, a taunt, but there’s something else too. Something that makes my cheeks flush, though it might just be the river water pressing against my skin.