The Mermaid’s Plea and the Witch’s Lesson

“I must see Lord Mejga. Please, I beg you, or else I… I truly have nowhere else to turn!”

Within mere moments, Aquilis’s composure shattered; she dropped to her knees with a soft thud, her hands clutching desperately at Saranya’s skirt hem as she dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs. Saranya found herself utterly at a loss:

“No, now, please don’t cry… Big sister was thoughtless just now, big sister was impolite. I sincerely apologize, alright?”

Saranya felt utterly helpless. Even if she wished to aid Aquilis, her hands were tied. Considering her brother’s volatile mental state, she simply couldn’t risk taking Aquilis to see him alone; she genuinely feared that once they met, Aquilis might never return. Furthermore, she was truthfully ignorant of Mejga’s precise activities, his daily routines, or his nightly dwelling. All she knew was the suspected cooperative relationship between Mejga and Lucius.

She certainly couldn’t take Aquilis to Lucius, could she? Lucius was known to harbor a certain lecherous streak, and given Aquilis’s delicate, adorable, and utterly pitiable demeanor, Saranya gravely feared sending a lamb directly into a wolf’s maw.

“Oh? What’s happening here? Why are you tormenting her?”

From the doorway, an intellectual, mature ‘older sister’ voice resonated. Saranya lifted her gaze, a surge of relief washing over her as if she had just found her savior:

“Cecilia! You’re here!”

Cecilia entered the tavern with a radiant smile, a wagon-load of Silver Hand members trailing behind her. The Silver Hands immediately set about unloading the heavy luggage from the cart, meticulously carrying it up to the attic rooms.

“What troubles you, little mermaid sister…? Could it be you’re pining for a sweetheart?”

Aquilis sniffled, her cheeks flushed.

When Aquilis offered no denial, Saranya’s heart plummeted.

‘Oh no, could Cecilia have actually hit the nail on the head? A weak, white-haired mermaid paired with a yandere and lecherous effeminate male, this life is complete.’

“Don’t cry anymore, alright? Come now, come into big sister’s arms~”

Clad in her pristine white nun’s habit, Cecilia knelt, opening her arms to Aquilis with an expression of tender softness.

“Wuwu… wuwuwuwu—”

Aquilis, much like a startled young fawn, tentatively edged closer to Cecilia. Upon witnessing Cecilia’s gentle, virtuous posture and the soft smile blooming on her face, Aquilis could no longer contain herself. She stumbled forward, collapsing into Cecilia’s embrace, and buried her face into the fabric covering the nun’s shoulder, weeping uncontrollably.

“Wuwuwu… the surface dwellers are so cruel… everyone torments me… wuwuwuwu—”

“Mmhmm, big sister won’t torment you. Hush now, no more tears…”

As Cecilia gently stroked the mermaid’s head, she lowered her gaze, softly inhaling the delicate scent of the mermaid’s hair.

“Mm-hmm…”

As if to purge every grievance she had endured over the past days, Aquilis wept until her strength was utterly spent, her eyes faintly reddened, before the torrent of tears finally began to subside.

“Do you want to go upstairs with big sister Cecilia to see the room, or stay down here with big sister Saranya?”

Aquilis lifted her head, looking directly at Saranya.

For some reason, Saranya perceived a hint of an obscure, complex emotion in Aquilis’s gaze…

Timidity? Sadness? Helplessness? …Guilt?

Saranya, though puzzled, merely offered Aquilis a reassuring nod before turning to Cecilia with a warm smile. “Welcome.”

“Thank you. If you don’t object, might I escort this poor little dear upstairs to rest?”

“Mmhmm.”

With that, Cecilia gently scooped Aquilis into her arms, carrying her by the waist as she ascended the tavern’s stairs.

“Hoo…”

Saranya, feeling utterly drained, exhaled a weary sigh as she settled back into her chair and poured herself a generous mug of ale.

****

Within a spacious dormitory room, illuminated by a window, Kaelan and Paresha sat cross-legged, their gazes fixed upon each other.

“Tell me, what do you know about magic?”

“Magic, which our church refers to as ‘divine arts’… I’ve perused a small portion of the preface to the Moonscar Sect’s divine art scriptures. It purportedly states that the Pale Moon Goddess’s creation—the moon—radiates not mere moonlight, but holy light imbued with potent divine power. Our clerics, lacking inherent special abilities, merely comprehend how to weave this holy light, enabling it to manifest as miracles. This, then, is ‘Moonscar Divine Arts’.”

Paresha fidgeted, scratching at her ears and head; this answer alone encompassed the entirety of her life’s acquired knowledge. With her hands clasped nervously upon her knees, she awaited Kaelan’s judgment with palpable apprehension.

“Hmm… unlike those crude and imbecilic frameworks, this understanding, while erroneous, isn’t entirely misguided. There is still hope for your salvation.”

Kaelan raised a fingertip, plucking a slender beam of sunlight directly from outside the window. She kneaded it within her palm, forming a luminous orb the size of a fingernail, then flicked it with a delicate motion. The glowing sphere zipped directly before Paresha’s eyes, exploding into a delicate flower of pure light.

“As you can plainly see, this isn’t ‘Moonscar Divine Arts’; this is simply Light magic, a feat easily accomplished even with direct sunlight. Your actions don’t involve ‘weaving holy light provided by a deity,’ but rather drawing ambient magical energy from the external world into your own body, meticulously arranging it in a coherent manner, and then projecting it back outwards. There is absolutely nothing to boast about in this, for every single wizard employs this very method.”

“This process bears no relation to your so-called ‘Pale Moon Goddess.’ Your ‘Moonscar theory’ is nothing more than a simplistic, literal interpretation of elven magical theory, entirely on par with ‘I reckon’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘an xunsi,’ used to denote a simplistic, unsophisticated, or intuitive understanding, often implying a lack of rigorous thought or proper methodology). While it does yield some effect, it is utterly stupid and clumsy!”

“Oh…”

Kaelan’s brow furrowed as she vehemently dismantled the theoretical underpinnings of the church’s divine arts, leaving Paresha utterly bewildered and speechless.

“Then, having absorbed all this, what precisely should I do? How might I swiftly master my very first spell?”

“Idiot! Don’t interrupt me!”

“Ah, I’m sorry, Teacher Kaelan…”

Paresha meekly lowered her head, resuming her attentive listening.

The mere mention of magic invariably ignited a fervent excitement within Kaelan. Her eyes, once so cool and indifferent, now sparkled with an ardent, almost passionate glow.

‘It appeared, then, that Teacher Kaelan possessed an extraordinary fondness for magic…’

“First and foremost, dismiss any notion of swiftly mastering a spell. For the impending first magical contest, your immediate focus must be entirely upon your opponent…”

Kaelan launched into an incessant, voluminous discourse…

“…Furthermore, a plethora of magical disciplines are available to you; there’s no need to exclusively fixate on those immediate, quick-cast spells. I shall now introduce you to ritual magic. Within this particular magical tradition, a practitioner can significantly lower the demands on their inherent strength through meticulous preparatory work. Considering your limited magical aptitude, it would be prudent to employ summoning ritual magic, thereby conjuring a familiar to assist you in resolving the conflict…”

Paresha listened intently from beginning to end, her face a mask of eager curiosity, yet Kaelan’s very last sentence caused her expression to abruptly freeze in place.

“Let me caution you: as my apprentice, you must strictly adhere to my teachings. Never, under any circumstances, meddle with magic haphazardly. Surely, you have no desire to be corrupted by malevolent forces, descending into madness, or to have a high-tier familiar usurp control, leaving you to fall into servitude as its thrall?”

“Ah… that sounds utterly horrifying… are there perhaps any with somewhat fewer adverse effects…?”

“Hmph~ What preposterous notions are these? Do you truly believe I am some glorious, upright archmage? My naive little priestess, you are my apprentice, and naturally, I intend to impart to you the black magic in which I am most proficient, slowly but surely molding you into the next ‘Black Witch’…”

Kaelan’s lips curved upward, revealing a twisted, almost malevolent smile.

Paresha swallowed a nervous gulp, a chill tracing goosebumps along the nape of her neck. She understood, with a sinking certainty, that refusal was no longer an option.

Taking a steadying breath, she voiced the question that had gnawed at her with the most intense curiosity:

“Lord Kaelan, why don’t you teach Lady Saranya magic?”

“Saranya, you mean? Her talent is simply insufficient. Her body possesses too weak an affinity for magic; she cannot endure the flow of magical energy within her, thus rendering her incapable of wielding it.”

“I see…”

Paresha was on the verge of nodding when Kaelan abruptly cut her off once more:

“However…”

“Eh?”

Kaelan propped up one leg, her head resting languidly against her knee, a fleeting trace of utter rapture passing through her eyes.

“Oh, I intend to train her quite thoroughly, you see. I’ll make her conquer that sensation, transforming her into my own exclusive little thrall~”

Paresha gasped, her mind abruptly flashing back to the scandalous, alluring scene she had secretly witnessed in the cellar the previous night.

‘So that was the truth of it. Kaelan’s treatment of Saranya was all a form of training…’

Paresha recalled the memory with a faint, almost obsessive fascination, her expression slowly softening into something less defined.

‘Damn it… I’m doing it again…’

‘I loathe myself for succumbing to this feeling. What kind of person have I become? Inserting myself as a mere observer into Kaelan and Saranya’s intimate dynamic, indulging my own peculiar voyeuristic urges…’

‘But… the truth is, these two together are undeniably provocative, aren’t they…?’

‘Alas, since I cannot possess Saranya, have all my tender feelings for her been twisted into such depraved desires…?’

“Pale Moon Goddess… forgive me…”

Surrendering, yielding, Paresha abandoned her internal struggle, whispering her confession to the goddess.

Her cheeks burned like fire, and she exhaled a moist, hot breath, lifting a hand to wipe away the drool at the corner of her mouth.

“I understand, Teacher Kaelan…”