The next morning, I discovered that Cloudy had moved up to a new level. Now, a thin film of water adorned her palm. It didn't run off, didn't drip—it was just a part of her skin.

  I carefully maintained an expression of absolute indifference on my face. The last thing I needed was for her to notice how proud I was of my pedagogical talents (which, most likely, didn't exist). Though Cloudy herself seemed completely unimpressed by her success. She was focused as if she were solving the question of the survival of a species.

  I stepped out of the shelter, intending to officially start "lesson two," but found that I was late. The student was already practicing with all her might. She dipped her hand into the basin and froze. The hand itself didn't move, but the water inside began to shift: rhythmic waves ran across the surface, and the liquid level began to rise lazily following her will.

  "Dammit..." I muttered. "I have to change plans on the fly again. You're growing too fast, Cloudy. I don't like this dynamic."

  I had already turned to go back into the shade and finish my dream—what was it about?—when she tossed a line at my back:

  "Don't just stand there like a post. Show me exactly how to control the flow."

  I don't know why, but I felt... joyful. Even though she asked for it in her usual rude manner, the mere realization that the Demon of Oblivion recognized me as a master warmed my soul.

  I walked over to the water, lazily formed a perfect sphere out of it, and started tossing it from hand to hand like a normal ball.

  Cloudy raised an eyebrow skeptically.

  "Let's do something simpler. I can't hold a shape that strictly yet."

  I froze. Wow... She wasn't just rote-memorizing; she actually understood the process. She felt the difference between simply moving a mass and maintaining its structure. Frighteningly smart.

  "Alright," I sighed and created a second basin for myself.

  "Watch closely. This is the base of 'following.'"

  I lowered my index finger to the surface of the water and began to slowly move it in circles. I didn't touch the liquid deeply—only barely grazed the mirror-like surface. But all the water in the basin obediently followed my finger at the same pace, turning into a compliant whirlpool. Not a single extra drop, not a single splash. Perfect synchronization.

  Cloudy moved closer. She shifted her gaze from my finger to hers, trying to catch that elusive moment of control. She tried to repeat it, frowning, biting her lip.

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  I stood beside her and felt... unnecessary. She learned through analysis.

  "Eh, this is no fun," I grumbled, looking at her focused face. "You're too serious. Magic should have more fun and imagination, but you're trying to force it into a frame."

  She didn't answer. She just continued to move her finger across the water, and her eyes reflected such a thirst for power.

  Training went slowly. And by "slowly," I mean "I-managed-to-dream-of-eternity-three-times-while-she-moved-her-finger." I just showed basic movements, and she tried to repeat them with persistence. By the end of the day, some semblance of a wave finally began to crawl lazily after her index finger. Progress, dammit.

  We sat down for dinner. Chewing the bear was tough, but Cloudy suddenly decided to season the meal with questions.

  "Listen, at what point can I consider myself finished with water?" she asked, examining her palm.

  "Well..." I scratched the back of my head, trying to remember the classification.

  "There are levels, I think. If I'm not mistaken, beginner is when a mage can turn the flow of a river back in a small section."

  "And then?" she leaned forward.

  "The middle level is serious. You can raise the water level in a river so that you flood a village, or fill a dried-up lake in a couple of minutes."

  "And the high level?" her eyes dug into my face.

  "High..." I sighed. "I guess that's when you can lift that entire lake into the air. Or give the water complex, detailed shapes."

  Cloudy frowned.

  "What do you mean—complex shapes?"

  I didn't explain with words. I just held out my hand. A sphere immediately formed over my palm. Clear, transparent. A second—and it became a perfect cube. Another moment—a triangle. Then a pentagon, a rhombus, a pyramid... I changed the facets. At the end, I molded a miniature sword from the liquid, and then—a tiny figure of a little man who began to dance clumsily on my fingers.

  "Well," I dispelled the mana, and the water simply soaked into the ground. "I guess that level is considered something like 'high-middle.' I don't know for sure. I have some gaps in my knowledge."

  She went silent, thoughtfully chewing a piece of meat.

  "Listen," I asked, studying her face. "Why do you demons even need these vessels? Human bodies?"

  "I don't need it," she answered drily.

  "Then why did you climb into it?"

  "It’s just easier to be in this world. My true form doesn't have what you call 'mana.' There's a different energy there, a specific one. The vessel is just an adapter."

  And then a question came to my head. That one question that would have been better left unsaid.

  "Listen... why did you choose a girl specifically?"

  Cloudy shrugged indifferently.

  "It just happened. A suitable body turned up. What’s the difference?"

  "You mean..." I swallowed. "You absolutely don't care whether you're a man or a woman?"

  "Yes," she cut me off. "It’s just a shell."

  At that moment, the piece of meat I had just struggled to swallow decided it didn't belong in my stomach.

  "EW..." I barely managed to turn away.

  I literally shuddered. I looked at her—a seemingly cute girl, the voice, the features... and in the next second, I imagined that inside this "wrapper" sits something that doesn't care about biology, gender, or any sense of decency at all.

  HORROR! my inner voice screamed. Why did I ask that?!

  The image of the "cute Cloudy" in my head shattered into a thousand pieces. Now sitting before me was an alien parasite in a pretty mask.

  "Forget it, forget it, forget it..." I muttered, trying to wipe my mouth. "Just eat. Don't think. Don't analyze."

  How was I supposed to "unsee" this now? How was I supposed to sleep in the same shelter as a being that might decide tomorrow that a beard suits it better?

  My tongue is my worst enemy. I should have just chewed the bear in silence.