Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 835 - 776 The Daughter of the Sea

He is not a prince.

He is the son of a fisherman, a human who rarely smiles. I’ve seen him many times by the seashore, often squatting on the protruding embankment, doing nothing, silently watching the sea. I’ve spied on many humans at Shallow Shore Sea—fishermen, shell gatherers, many who rely on the sea for their livelihood. They are busy, focused on their fishing nets and rods for their survival. He is special in this environment, as if something in the sea draws him in, and I want to know what he sees.

I often patrol the shallows and reefs, looking for shipwrecks and drowning victims, because the stories tell of the first meeting between a Merfolk princess and a human prince, the beginning of land and sea.

My name is Princess, and I am a princess, being the daughter of the King of the Merfolk, so I inherited the name that means "princess." A princess, of course, reads fairy tales and dreams the dreams befitting a princess. Driven by beautiful dreams, I approach the land, and in my spare time from searching for the prince, I observe that special human.

I thought he was special like me; I am a Merfolk yearning for land, while he is a human yearning for the sea. One day, two days... one month, two months. I couldn’t help but hide behind the rocks, drawing closer to him. Merfolk possess strong telepathy, and I, Princess, can easily see through others’ hearts.

He is not a prince, his dream is to be a poet.

I am somewhat disappointed; he observes the scenery where the ocean meets the sky, brewing his own literature. A fisherman’s son who aspires to be a poet, he doesn’t even know many characters. The extent of what he can do is just stumble through some unpoetic lines in his heart, as if wailing. Facing the sea, because the sea will not blame him for being idle. I find his childish, babbling recitation amusing, like a baby learning to speak; he doesn’t realize that from then on, he secretly has an audience from the sea.

It must be the affection for the land that kept me persisting; I did not grow tired of his repeated dry phrases, I still waited by the sea for the storm to overturn a prince’s sail, and failing to find one, I’d listen to his pantomime-like performance before dusk. I never tried to contact him, because he is not a prince, he dresses in the simplest clothes, unkempt, the only beauty being his eyes that shone when he gazed at the sea.

I won’t go next time, I’ve grown tired of it. Thinking of the disadvantages of wasting time, the sunset-lit sea would always capture my silhouette.

We gradually grow up, and I should awaken from the fairy tales.

Princes won’t wait for me, and I will not wait for them either. Recently, my father has been emphasizing the responsibilities of a Merfolk princess; I, Princess, should mature. My father has been indulgent with me, and I should repay his doting.

The changes among the land-dwellers are great, they have built a town on another part of the shore, people from this corner are continuously relocating, fewer and fewer remain, just as my feelings continue to settle. But he is still there, year after year, squatting on the same stone, whispering the phrases I can recite by heart. Tonight will be my last time being an audience, I thought, my back quietly leaning against the rock, the evening glow dyeing my scales into a splendid rainbow.

He didn’t come, did he leave before me? A sudden feeling of abandonment overwhelmed me, my strong personality diving into stubborn distress. I quietly searched for his traces, swearing that upon sighting him, I would appear before him, flicking my tail to splash him with water, and then dive back into the sea.

Humans left the seaside, seemingly never to return, the original village turned desolate, plants swallowed the traces of what the village once was. My heart turned cold, yet I saw him before turning back.

He sat in an old fishing boat, venturing out to sea like a fisherman.

He no longer aspired to be a poet, he became a fisherman. He came back, but I won’t hear his optimistic short verses anymore. His father passed away, not having made him a qualified fisherman before leaving. I swam slowly, parallel to his fishing boat below. His heart filled with sorrow, melting into the sadness of the sea.

I no longer aspire for a prince, but I regard him as my friend, a one-sided friend.

He was not a prince, but a fisherman, and not a very skilled one at that. The first day he went out to sea heavy-hearted, the second day he went driven by hunger and cold, the third day he lay on the shore, full of the terror of nearly drowning. I was worried that if I did not do something, this young man would not live because of the ocean, but die because of it. I secretly hung fish on his hook, listening to his joyous harvest, happiness blooming like a flower amid the cold sadness.

I found something interesting to do, sustaining a human through the compassionate ocean. I listened to his heart, felt his joy. He was not stupid, or rather, he was self-aware. He realized these catches were not due to his poor fishing skills, he realized something was helping him, he realized there was a goddess who favored him.

I chuckled in the shadows of the fishing boat, my heart brimming with self-satisfaction from the praise.

He began to write poems again, singing praises to the ocean goddess he had imagined. This time, he sang them out, the simple words meeting the sea breeze, dancing on the waves. Those thankful lines, as monotone as ever, were amusing nonetheless.

I felt it was time, I rightfully deserved my due gratitude, in person, for my labor and sympathy.

My hand rested on the edge of the small boat, and I emerged from the water, my upper body showing. Years of telepathy told me this man was timid and meek, he probably couldn’t handle meeting a Merfolk. But he might accept a young sea lady entwined with seawater.

I was pleased that I was beautiful; I gained a new appreciation for my appearance after reading his thoughts.

[Be grateful to me, human, it is I who have brought you the bountiful harvest!]

My voice roused him from his stupor, he fell to his knees in the boat, his forehead striking the wooden paddle with a noise, his heart filled with awe for me.

"Thank you, Goddess Princess."

[Call me Princess Goddess!]

"Yes, Princess Goddess!"

As our contact increased slightly, I soon grew tired of the lofty attitude. As a Merfolk princess, the worship of my subjects was enough; he was my friend, and I could treat him in a more ordinary manner. I told him so, and he did not resist; it seems he hadn’t encountered anyone of great importance.

[Hey, does your prince come to the seaside?]

"I’ve never seen him, perhaps not, why would a noble prince come to such a poor seaside." While saying this, he completely failed to realize he had also considered my Merfolk kingdom a desolate neighboring area. Annoyed, I also heard a hint of a strange emotion in his heart. Jealousy, this peculiar feeling was subtly affecting me too.

He was not a prince, but he was also fond of the Merfolk princess.