Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 280. Conclusion

"Seems like you have reached a conclusion, Arawn. Hopefully it's something close to the truth. Well… even if it wasn't, it's not like I could confirm it anyway."

Kainal let out a quiet chuckle, though his expression strained at the edges, that kind of laugh people give when they're forcing down something heavier than their throat can bear.

From his tone alone, I could already tell my earlier deductions had struck a nerve. Both he and Naime were deliberately holding something back, not out of malice, but perhaps out of fear… or reverence. Whichever it was, the truth wasn't something they could say aloud.

Still, the part about livestock was… haunting.

If their implication was correct, then something was seriously wrong beneath this ocean's shimmering façade. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to know just how deep that rot went.

"I have a question," I said after a moment, leaning forward slightly. "When did the merfolk first come into contact with the Red Sea? How long has this… religion, or whatever it is, existed?"

My voice came out steadier than I expected, but inside, I was genuinely curious. The way every merfolk I'd met carried that quiet reverence, that almost sacred terror when the Red Sea was mentioned, it was clear that this wasn't some passing faith. This was something ancient.

And considering Kainal and Naime…

They were ancient in their own right. Not as old as Wannre, of course, that woman was practically a myth wearing flesh, but still, by mortal standards, both were fossils. Fossils that moved and spoke with elegance honed over centuries.

'Every single member of the governance is old enough to be considered a fossil,' I recalled what Wannre had once said. 'But they're not just old, they've mastered the art of survival. Time sharpened them instead of dulling them.'

Kainal hummed softly, a pensive, almost nostalgic sound. He ran a hand through his hair before finally answering, his eyes wandering somewhere distant, perhaps through memory, or maybe through history itself.

"Well…" he began slowly, "I can't say for certain. No one really can. But… possibly, during the earliest recesses of our existence. You could find traces of the Red Sea even in our Ancestral Codex. The murals carved by the earliest of merfolks, all mention it."

He gave a faint shrug, though the gesture seemed more like resignation than indifference. "It's as if the Red Sea was always there, watching us before we even had the sense to name it."

That sent a ripple through me.

'So there's no definite beginning. No moment of revelation or contact. The Red Sea has simply always been.'

Old didn't even begin to describe it. Ancient would be closer… but even that felt lacking.

From what I'd gathered, merfolk weren't always aquatic. They'd lived on land once, back when their forms were more humanoid, less adapted to the crushing depths. But conflict and persecution drove them below, seeking refuge beneath the waves.

And it was there, in those early eras of desperation, that they supposedly found or were found by the Red Sea.

Their savior. Their god. Their… whatever it truly was.

Beyond that, though? My knowledge was a empty.

'The Red Sea… It really was an enigma in the world of merfolks or possibly the entire world. And it makes me question, are there other beings similar to the Red Sea. Somewhere hidden deep beneath the reality.'

And as that thought lingered, I couldn't help but feel it, a faint, almost imperceptible pull at the back of my mind, like something vast and unseen had just turned its gaze my way.

Well... Whether I knew about it or not didn't make much of a difference. From the very start, all I truly wanted was to understand my element—how to control it, how to master it, how to make it mine.

Through Wannre's guidance and fragmented insights, I'd pieced together a rough framework—a direction, a path, something that resembled progress, however faint.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give me momentum. I still didn't have a reason to live, but strangely enough… that didn't change my drive to live.

Yes, living didn't particularly interest me, but dying wasn't all that appealing either. I was suspended in between—a delicate, miserable equilibrium.

A balance of neutrality.

I didn't love life, nor did I despise death. I hated neither side. I was simply… there. Breathing, existing, drifting.

And ironically, that neutrality only made things worse for me. It was a curse disguised as calmness—neither burning nor freezing, just perpetually lukewarm.

'But do I really need a reason to live? Is it really that necessary? Why can't I just… live as I always have?'

Yet, the answer was painfully simple.

Yes… I didn't need a reason to live. Nobody really does. From the moment they're born, people scramble to find meaning—to justify their existence, to tie their lives to something that convinces them they matter.

A three-year-old child didn't know what it wanted to become, why it wanted to live? Most twenty-year-olds didn't

know either. Nor did the majority of seventy year olds. Most people spend their entire lives pretending they do.

They live under the illusion of responsibility.

Responsibilities toward their parents, their siblings, their friends, their lovers, their children. Toward society. Toward their nation. Toward humanity as a whole.

But rarely—so rarely—toward themselves.

'Most don't even know why they live, yet they love giving speeches about it… saying things like "I'm living for my family."'

I scoffed inwardly.

'Isn't that the best reason?' they'd say, proud and content, as if parroting something they barely believed in themselves.

And those kinds of people—the ones who declared such things with self-righteous conviction—made me want to puke.

Because they weren't living for their families. They were using their families as an excuse. An excuse to avoid looking at the emptiness inside them.

And in that way, maybe I wasn't all that different.

But at least I had the decency to admit that my life, as it was, didn't have a reason.