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Because there's nothing wrong with listening to a couple of mermaid songs, as long as you're safely tied to your post. That's what all of them did. They call me a sinner because I took it a step too far, but I've seen the eyes of people I've served beside wander, too noble to put a hand where it wasn't wanted. But the other people there? The drunkards who'll probably wrinkle their noses at it if you tell them what I've done, I'm sure? I've seen every single one of them cop a feel here and there. I've seen the boy shoot warning glares at a hand that'd gone too far up, click his tongue at fingers that brushed too close for comfort. Still, those men had their wives to go back to. Had their God, and their social standards. They had their posts. But me? I had nothing. Back then I thought, 'you've given up everything for the people of this country. There would be no harm in living for yourself for a change'.
So when the siren came to me, leaned against my table, and moved to snatch the beer from my lips and take a sip; when the siren drawled in that unmistakable chirpy accent I'd hated once upon a time,
"Why the long face, Süsser?"
I damned the whole world, and took my first step to the edge of the ship.