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chapter 46
“My lovely half-mermaid…”
A gentle whisper from Ananta.
But the moment she heard that voice, goosebumps broke out all over Rinka’s body.
He sat up, brushing his hair back softly.
“And—”
“Don’t come any closer.”
“—you betrayed me.”
He—no, it—took a step toward Rinka.
His eyes, once as blue as the sky, were now black as the abyss.
So dark that Rinka could be certain—this wasn’t him.
“Answer me. Who are you?”
At her steady voice, it tilted its head, as if confused by the question, then smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Who am I?”
“……”
“How hurtful…”
Rinka didn’t push him away.
No—she couldn’t.
Something in those blackened eyes—some unreadable, complex emotion—reached her.
And for some reason, she felt she had to understand it.
Her father’s words about mermaids and their instincts came to mind.
Ananta’s lips curved gently. It was a kind smile—but his eyes didn’t smile at all.
“My little mermaid.”
Ananta never calls me that.
“Don’t you remember?”
He doesn’t ask me things like that, either.
And yet…
This strange being seemed to be urging her—no, pleading with her—to remember something.
Or maybe… it was resentment.
Rinka couldn’t fully read the turmoil in his voice or eyes.
“You broke our promise and ran away with what you vowed to give me.”
“What are you talking about…?”
“You left me alone… in the dark sea.”
For a moment, the world seemed to ripple.
It felt like she had been thrown into a deep, dark abyss. Rinka clutched tightly at Ananta’s collar.
And the deep sea itself surged up before her eyes.
“What is… this…”
He chuckled faintly, holding her waist even tighter. The smile on his face looked gentle, but it chilled her to the bone.
“Shh.”
As if to calm her, he pressed his lips softly against her ear and whispered,
“This is our sea. It’s only natural that you can breathe here.”
“How could this be the sea—!”
“When we were together, it was always the sea. We were always connected as one. So, it’s only natural. Now—”
You can sink.
The voice echoed lazily in her mind, like a whisper underwater.
Rinka exhaled slowly, still clutching his arm as if afraid to lose him.
The water rippled.
Waves murmured like whispers.
And just as he said—Rinka could breathe.
Ananta’s arm wrapped around her waist as though guiding her. His hand rested on her forearm, and together they looked out toward the sea.
The once dark, abyssal ocean was now bathed in soft sunlight.
“Remember. Remember why I’ve been searching for you for so long.”
“……”
“Don’t you want to know why Ananta has suffered all this time?”
His voice dripped with mockery. For a brief moment, Rinka wanted to argue—but instead, she slowly closed her eyes.
* * *
On a small island bathed in gentle sunlight, a woman with long golden hair and a man with short silver hair walked hand in hand.
It looked natural—like something they did every day, without fail.
“Ananta,” the woman whispered tenderly.
Her long hair shone like the sun, full of life, and her eyes gleamed like the colors of dusk—focused only on him.
They looked truly happy together.
They swam through the sea every day, and when they grew bored, they returned to the island to talk for hours, spending long nights together.
The monster of the sea—whom everyone else feared and avoided—found the woman’s affection strange and fascinating.
He called her peculiar, but in the end, he was drawn to her brightness, her beauty—so unlike the dark depths he ruled.
But time was finite.
The woman slowly realized she was aging.
Unlike him, she was a being destined to fade away.
“I want to grow old with you,” she said, embracing him, confessing her wish for a shared future.
Since she could not live forever, she promised to give him her heart’s pearl—a mermaid’s very core—if he would give up his eternity for her.
To a man who had never loved anyone, her whisper was more precious and beautiful than eternity itself.
The ruler of the western seas, utterly enchanted by this daring, half-mermaid who neither bowed nor yielded to him, finally chose to abandon his immortality and his sea for her.
He vowed to end his long, endless life beside her.
And on the day of their promise—
“Keep your word. Our eternity.”
The woman embraced him as he tore away his own reverse scale, giving up his immortality.
Then, looking into his eyes, she said—
“I’m sorry.”
“……!”
“I’m sorry, Ananta.”
With tears streaming down her face, she gave him nothing in return—only stole his reverse scale and fled.
And that woman’s face…
was one Rinka knew better than anyone.
Because it was her own.
Rinka Marybell.
* * *
Rinka couldn’t speak.
No—she couldn’t continue.
It made no sense.
How could she possibly believe this?
That this was really Ananta—the one she had been running from all this time?
But at the same time… she couldn’t not believe it.
“You didn’t keep your promise to stay by my side.”
Of course he blamed her.
It was that woman who betrayed him.
Because of her, he had died.
Because of her, he had never found peace, drifting endlessly across the seas, searching for his lost half-mermaid.
“If you hadn’t betrayed me, I wouldn’t have died like that.”
His whisper came and went with the waves, growing faint, then near again.
Rinka couldn’t answer. She could only gasp, drowning in shock.
“You abandoned me. You broke our promise. You threw away our eternity.”
“…That’s impossible.”
“In that dark sea, I poured all my power into a curse—only for you.”
A man—
Unable to forget his ancient promise, he had sealed himself in a curse, turning into a monster who would pursue her forever.
He smiled now, finally having found her—so very pleased.
The voice was Ananta’s—but beneath it pulsed something cold, old, and resentful.
And yet, it was also filled with a deep, aching affection.
The love of an eternal being—
profound, unending, and all-consuming—
washed over Rinka like a tide, seeping into her very skin.
He gently brushed her cheek and whispered,
“I’ve waited for you all this time. From the moment that human ancestor of yours stumbled upon my power and inherited it… until now.”
His voice, soft and lyrical, was unmistakably Ananta’s.
And this too—was Ananta.
Rinka didn’t know what kind of link bound these two Anantas together—nor why she had been born with a face identical to that woman’s.
“…I understand now.”
Her voice came out like a sigh, as if she finally grasped the weight of his resentment.
But she couldn’t leave things like this.
Because this body—this heart—
belonged not to the sea monster Ananta,
but to Ananta Belzert, the one she had opened her heart to.
So she couldn’t let the old curse consume them both.
“That’s why,” she said, steadying her breath,
“first, let’s get rid of this sea. You’re a patient right now, remember?”
