Arrest by the Pool (Cartoon Edition)

Summary: “Arrest by the Pool”

Marina arrives in the sunny country of Saria and checks into an exclusive VIP resort. She relaxes by a secluded pool in her swimsuit, enjoying the solitude. Suddenly, a police officer approaches her—he has been watching her from the shadows. He demands her documents and accuses her of breaking the law, claiming that wearing a swimsuit outside designated areas is prohibited.

Marina tries to explain, showing her VIP card and paperwork proving her right to be at the pool. The officer ignores her, stating that “ignorance of the law is no excuse,” and declares her under arrest. He draws his weapon, orders her to raise her hands, then to turn and place them behind her back, and cuffs her.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, Marina complies. Internally, she feels a mix of fear, embarrassment, and a strange sense of calm, as if submission brings psychological relief. The officer calls for backup and orders her to kneel, maintaining a strict demeanor but with hints of personal interest.

Marina is unsure whether the threat is real or just a bizarre misunderstanding. She wonders if she will be released when backup arrives or if different—and potentially dangerous—rules apply in this foreign country. The story ends with her fully submitting, leaving a tense sense that her freedom is not guaranteed.

Additional Chapter:

The police station greeted Marina with cold fluorescent lights and an even colder atmosphere. Stone walls, sterile silence, the smell of disinfectant — everything screamed: you are not home. The officer who had arrested her led her silently through the corridors, each of her steps echoing, every glance from the staff filled with a mixture of confusion… and curiosity.

Finally, she was seated at a metal table, still handcuffed. A large man in uniform — clearly an investigator — entered the room. Without introducing himself, he began the interrogation.

— Name?
— Marina.
— Last name?
— Koval.
— Age?
— 49.
— Nationality?
— Ukrainian.
— Height? Weight?
— 168… 57.
— Marital status?

Marina blinked calmly.

— Single.

But the questions didn’t stop. They were strange, intrusive, personal. About her travel habits, her medical history, even her last doctor’s visit. The investigator offered no explanations — just scribbled down notes, verified information, clarified details. No emotion, no sympathy.

— Your clothing. Why that particular swimsuit? — he asked suddenly.
— Excuse me?
— The color, the style. Was that a deliberate choice?

Marina gave a quiet scoff. The questions had long stopped being legal — this was theater.

Finally, he closed the folder and said in a rehearsed tone:

— Since this is your first time on the territory of Sariya, it qualifies as a mitigating factor. However, by law, you will be placed in a solitary cell for 48 hours. You are entitled to one phone call… starting tomorrow.

— But… — Marina began.

— Everything else will be addressed later, — he cut her off coldly.

On cue, the officers stood. One approached and locked the handcuffs back onto her wrists. She was escorted down a long corridor, dimly lit, until they reached a section marked Solitary Cells.

Marina was still dressed in the same swimsuit — a warm shade of burnt orange — as if time had frozen since her arrest. No clothes, no cover — just the piercing stares of the guards and the growing weight of helplessness.

Before entering the cell, they stopped her. One of the guards retrieved a neatly folded black garment from a dark drawer.

— Put this on, — he said.

Marina froze. It was a hijab — the traditional, fully covering garment that left only the eyes visible.

— What?.. No, I…

— Sorry, ma’am, — he interrupted without emotion. — By law, even in custody, you may not be in a bikini. Those are the rules.

— I’m alone! This is ridiculous!

But the guards had already stepped forward. The hijab was draped over her shoulders, fastened swiftly and tightly. Her hair, face, body — all concealed beneath the heavy black fabric. Only her eyes remained visible.

— Better, — one of them said curtly. — Now you're in compliance.

Marina was led into the cell. Cold concrete, a narrow bench, no clock, no window. But instead of a door — thick iron bars separating her from the corridor, from freedom, from everything.
She wasn’t truly isolated — her solitude was on display, like an exhibit in a cage.

The guard stepped back.

— Wait here. Someone will return in 48 hours.

He turned the key, and the bars slammed shut with a loud metallic clang.

And Marina was left alone.

In total silence, cloaked head to toe in unfamiliar, suffocating fabric, in a foreign cell, behind iron bars, she sat down on the bench.
Her heart pounded in her ears.

Now, all she could do was wait.