Previously
Cordelia overhears Lord and Lady Devillers firmly resolving to break off her engagement to Jonathan upon realizing she suffers from the fatal Curse of the Mermaid.
If only she would get out of this room right now, shedding tears would be a small price to pay. Yet Dorea looked flustered by Cordelia’s weary reaction, and then, as if sudden fury overtook her, she strode over and snarled.
“What’s with the high-and-mighty act again? Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m acting high and mighty?”
“Your tone! That face! That attitude, looking at me like I’m trash! All of it! From the way you look to the way you eye people, you treat me like I’m beneath you! You think I don’t know? That’s why you always get beaten!”
Dorea raged, her words echoing what every other member of this family had always said. When she was young, those words had made her wonder if she really was in the wrong, prompting her to watch and police every single move she made. All in the hope that they might love her.
Yet they only sneered more and thought less of her. Contempt became a habit, clinging to her skin. Lord Devillers had been right. Misfortune was contagious. It spread without one even realizing it.
No, to be precise, misfortune was learned.
A sigh escaped her. As Cordelia began to laugh, Dorea’s eyes went wide. Her face asked if Cordelia had gone mad upon hearing she had a fatal illness.
“You just hate me, Dorea.”
“What?”
“If that were true, I should never have been born in the first place. But my father seduced my mother, married her, and had me, and then your mother and the rest of you came into this house. No one invited you. Not a single person. If you hated it so much, why did you come?”
Every word and deed of theirs reeked of contradiction. They savored a sense of superiority while trampling her, yet when showing themselves to the outside world, they put on airs using Cordelia and the noble house their own feet had dragged through the mud. When gnawing away at its faded heritage wasn't enough, they grew frantic to sell it off for cash.
As much as she hated herself, no, far more than that, she hated these detestable, sickening people.
Her aunt had called Lord and Lady Devillers hypocrites, but her own family were the truly vulgar monsters. At the very least, Lord and Lady Devillers felt guilt over their hypocrisy.
For the first time in her life, life flickered in Cordelia’s downtrodden eyes. When she stared back through a bruised eye, Dorea flinched, nearly stumbling back.
They said people changed when given a date with death. In eyes that had always been limp and listless, a vivid blue brilliance seemed to flash. Like the gaze of some fair, pale creature rising slowly from the nocturnal sea. Momentarily daunted by that inhuman gleam, Dorea bit her lip and shrieked shrilly.
“Don't you put on airs! You knew all along you had a fatal illness, didn't you? You've been lying this entire time! Pulling a swindle just because you wanted out of this house!”
The pouch Dorea hurled struck Cordelia's forehead and fell. Cordelia realized it was the very medicine pouch she had searched for so desperately.
If she had taken it when the attack struck, would the disease have stayed dormant?
There was no way to know. She had not been able to take the medicine when she needed it.
“You bumped into me and dropped it when you left. I wondered what it was, and it was that illness?”
“…What?”
“What?”
“When did you pick this up?”
Dorea snorted. Cordelia recalled the sight of her cousin pacing before the carriage as if she had something to say when Cordelia had boarded late.
“Would anything have happened just because you were missing one little thing? It's not like an engagement gets broken off just because you couldn't put on makeup. Who knew you were slyly carrying medicine around?”
The moment she saw that face twisted in pure malice and meanness, a shrill ringing pierced Cordelia’s head. When she came to, Dorea was collapsed on the floor, screaming as blood ran down her forehead. Huh? Flustered, she went to rub her eyes, only to recoil in shock at the locket in her hand, smeared with sticky blood. What was this? What had happened? As she stepped forward in helpless panic, Dorea shrieked and pointed a finger.
“You crazy bitch! Are you trying to kill me? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“What?”
Me?
Panicked, Cordelia looked back and forth between her bloodstained hand and her squawking cousin. Cordelia was gentle; through a lifetime of persecution, she had never dared stand against them. Still dazed and unable to believe it herself, she flinched as her aunt rushed in at the commotion, shouting.
“What is all this racket?”
“M-Mother! That girl tried to kill me!”
Instinctively hiding the hand clutching the bloody locket behind her back, Cordelia blinked dumbly, just as she always did. Her aunt scowled, glaring at her wailing daughter.
“What kind of nonsense is that? How could she kill you? She’s not even half your size.”
“She tried to gouge my eye out, I'm telling you!”
Dorea squawked, but looking at Cordelia’s face, swollen from beatings as she shook her head with frightened eyes, it seemed like nothing more than malingering.
Of course, Dorea truly was hurt, but to anyone who knew the dynamic between the timid niece—even if she occasionally brought a beating on herself—and the overbearing daughter, the claim was preposterous. On top of that, from a wench who had been coughing up blood and collapsing barely half a day ago? Her aunt snorted and walked out of the room with a sneer.
“Keep it down and go to sleep instead of throwing a fit. You woke me right up.”
“Mother!”
Dorea whipped her head around, glared at the stock-still Cordelia with eyes full of fury mixed with a sliver of fear, and stormed out after her mother.
Left alone in the quieted room, Cordelia was left reeling. She had no idea what had happened.
Blankly, she looked down at her hands, where traces of blood still remained. Moonlight through the window gently caressed the small hands that had tried to harm someone.
The night wind billowed the sheer curtain, and in her mother’s worn mirror hanging on the wall, a maiden drained of expression was reflected. The face mottled with rain-soaked moonlight was pale.
Slowly wiping away the blood, she opened the locket. She stared at the portrait of her fiancé, Jonathan, for a long while before carefully removing it from behind the glass. Beneath it, the portrait of her mother’s profile was revealed. She had wanted to carry it with her, yet had rarely looked at it because tears and longing would surge whenever she did. Stroking her mother’s face with a finger, she closed the locket.
Tumble. Jonathan’s portrait fell to the floor.
Just a day ago, she had treasured it dearly as if it were an amulet to protect her, but now it stirred nothing inside her. Or rather, it felt useless. It seemed she had grown a little strange ever since the illness broke out. Then again, was that so surprising? The priest had once said that people only change when it is their time to die.
Tinkle, tinkle. A bell seemed to ring from somewhere.
***
“Child, child. Come to us, quickly.”
Like a giggle, a clear, dreamy voice coaxed her once more.
Come now. We are waiting for you. Come to us.
Even as the auditory hallucinations began anew, Cordelia did not cover her ears. As if she instinctively knew such an act was meaningless. If anything, she wanted to ask.
Who are you? What do you want from me? Where on earth are you telling me to go?
At that, they laughed.
“To the sea.”
“To our home.”
The sea.
The sea.
If she went to the sea, would something change?
Cordelia thought of the legend of the mermaids her mother had sung to her as a lullaby, the tale of her ancestors.
And like a flash of lightning, a scene surfaced.
“They say Queen Calypso of the sea still waits for her daughter to this day. Because she loves her, even if she was a traitor. Yet until her death, the princess could never return to the sea to seek her mother.”
“Why?”
“Because of shame. Out of misery. That is what happens when you hurt the one who loves you.”
Cordelia had known she was thinking of her father, but had pretended not to notice.
“Knowing how her daughter felt, Calypso left a single passage open to the sea kingdom. It is the center of the world and the last remaining land of mystery. On that island, all manner of coral reefs, beautiful fish, and wondrous beasts from the eight oceans frolic, and mother-of-pearl, cloisonné, and pearls are strewn like pebbles across the pale pink sand. Auroras hang in the sky.”
It was a place like paradise. When her daughter said she wanted to go there too, her mother had smiled and shaken her head.
“Not you, not yet.”
“Why not?”
“The souls of all mermaids gather on that island. There, they live an immortal life. Shouldn't you enjoy your human life a little more?”
To go to that island, you must first receive an invitation.
Second, you must have the key.
A key?
At the girl’s question, the corners of her mother’s red lips had curled upward.
“That's a secret, Cordelia.”
That key was…
As she panted in a haze, the unpleasant sound of a beast echoed from somewhere. It was sickening, as if centipedes were crawling all over her body. “Ah!” Shouting and thrashing before she could stop herself, a hideous voice barked in a hushed shout.
“Shut your mouth! I'm trying to do something good for you!”