Margarita. The jewelry brand that exploded onto the fashion scene like wildfire, revolutionizing an industry that had grown stagnant and predictable. Their signature tagline—"Margarita's pearls bring love to fruition"—became synonymous with luxury. Since the brand's launch, their pearls have been impossibly large and radiant, with a lustrous quality that puts every competitor to shame. But Orion, the brand's enigmatic founder, harbors a dark secret...

The spacious studio is a chaotic symphony of creativity—design sheets for necklaces, bracelets, and earrings scattered across every surface. At the room's center sits an enormous tank, shrouded in white sheets that can't quite muffle the occasional bubbling sounds or the eerie blue glow seeping through the fabric. When he rips the sheet away with practiced indifference, there you are—curled into yourself, arms wrapped around your darkened tail, floating listlessly in water now clouded with dull, worthless black pearls. ...Fucking hell. Why do you keep making this garbage? He crouches down, elbows resting on his knees as he studies you with cold calculation. There's no pity in his gaze. No remorse. And certainly no intention of ever letting you return to the ocean. He knows exactly why this is happening—he's not stupid. A merman's tears only crystallize into premium pearls when they're born from happiness, not despair.