The clatter of utensils echoed softly, a strangely delicate sound in the stillness that had settled over Kainal's ho.
Each tallic scrape against porcelain reverberated like a bell through the otherwise hushed dining room. The three of us sat at our respective seats, forming a quiet, uneven triangle around the table.
Nai was seated beside Kainal, his posture relaxed but his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity.
I sat opposite them, at the far side of the dining table, feeling as though an invisible line had been drawn between our sides.
My gaze drifted toward the food laid out on the platter before . It was an odd mix—so kind of tuna-like at combined with vegetables I couldn't even begin to identify.
The greens had strange, jagged edges and pulsed faintly as if they were still alive. Even the so-called tuna wasn't actually tuna.
I had asked Kainal about it earlier, and with an offhand shrug he'd explained that it ca from the sa massive swordfish-like creature that had dragged us to this place.
Beside the platter sat a small cup of thick, blackish liquid that looked almost like tar. I presud it to be coffee but one sip had been enough to confirm its bitter, bracing taste far exceeded anything brewed on Earth. It was harsh but oddly invigorating.
There were sweets too—small, spherical orbs glimring like black pearls in a silver dish. Their translucent surface shimred faintly under the dim light of the room. When I popped one into my mouth, it dissolved into a flood of sugary, jelly-like sweetness that contrasted starkly with the bitter drink.
I waited to eat until the other two began their al, not out of suspicion or courtesy but out of habit—an old reflex from Earth where my parents always started first. It felt almost ritualistic now, a piece of my past life clinging stubbornly to .
Kainal clattered his fork against his plate, the sound sharp enough to draw my eyes to him. He cut another piece of the swordfish at and slipped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before speaking.
"So, tell us about yourself, Arawn." His voice was steady, but there was a weight to his words, a probing intent hidden behind casual curiosity. "What kind of things amuse you? What are your ambitions, your goals? The people you care about… the things you strive for. Anything you want to share."
I glanced up from my plate to find Nai watching too, his cheek puffed slightly as he chewed. He swallowed quickly and joined in, his tone lighter but no less curious.
"Yeah," he added with his mouth still half-full, "anything that gives us a hint about who you are and what you like. We'd give you whatever you want, keeping that in mind."
His phrasing made pause. 'Whatever I wanted?' That wasn't sothing I'd expected to hear from either of them.
A part of wondered if their willingness had more to do with Wannre's rule than with personally. From the small glimpses I'd had so far, it was clear her leadership wasn't exactly adored. Perhaps these two were eager for change, desperate even, and I was their potential catalyst.
Still, I wasn't about to just take their words at face value. I decided to test the waters, to see just how deep their so-called generosity went. Leaning back slightly in my chair, I asked with deliberate nonchalance:
"Anything, huh?" My tone was teasing, but my eyes didn't waver from Kainal's. "So how about ending the tail-color-based discrimination you've got going on? End that, and maybe we'll have a deal for my cooperation."
The table went silent for a heartbeat. The faint hum of the room filled the gap, punctuated only by the gentle clink of Nai's spoon as he slowly set it down. My words had landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples across both their faces.
Inside, I couldn't help but smirk. If they truly ant anything, then this would be the real test.
Both of them slowly turned their heads toward in eerie unison. Their gazes were sharp, asuring, as though they were dissecting with their eyes, trying to determine whether I had just said sothing stupid or dangerous.
Tilting my head slightly, I blinked and asked, "What? Can't do a little social work? You two so kind of officials or sothing?"
My tone carried that sa careless draw I usually had when I knew I'd stepped into sothing awkward but decided to keep digging anyway. I honestly didn't think much of it.
So I just shrugged and continued eating, letting the warm, savory broth slide down my throat. Yet even after several minutes passed, the tension in the water didn't disperse.
They still hadn't moved. Both of them continued staring at with the sa baffled, almost pitiful, expression—as if they were looking at a child who'd just admitted to petting a shark.
Finally, I sighed and looked up from my al. "Is sothing on my face?" I rubbed my chin half-jokingly before continuing, "Oh wait—don't get the wrong idea. I'm not doing charity work here. I don't have any compassion for rfolk, much less the yellow-tailed ones. I was just… testing the waters, that's all. You know, getting a feel for things."
"Hah?" Kainal scoffed and leaned back, his gills flaring slightly with amusent. "So, you really don't know anything, huh?"
He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "And here we were thinking you had so special role in Empress Wannre's plans or sothing grand like that. But turns out you're not anything special after all."
That made pause. My fork froze halfway to my mouth. Empress Wannre? Special role? What the hell was he talking about? There was sothing in his tone—a condescending amusent—that grated on my nerves.
But beneath that mockery, there was also sothing else. A hint of truth that demanded to be understood.
"What do you an by that?" I asked, lowering my utensil. "You're saying this discrimination… has a reason behind it?"
Kainal smirked, clearly enjoying my confusion. "Hahaha… you really are green, aren't you? Fine, I'll humor you." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the coral-carved table. "Think of this as a little starter lesson for our long-term relationship."
I raised a brow but stayed quiet.
"The discrimination we have," he began, voice lowering, "is not without cause or aning. It's not just so baseless hatred, or petty arrogance passed down through generations. No, it's deliberate. Carefully built, sustained, and fed into every rfolk's mind from the mont they can swim."
He paused, as though savoring the weight of his words before continuing, "The reason for that is simple—survival."
I repeated the word, almost unconsciously. "Survival…"
"Yeah," he said with a faint nod, picking up a piece of roasted at and biting into it. "Survival—the oldest, purest instinct every living being shares. The drive to live, to endure, to extend existence."
He reached for his glass, filled with a viscous liquid that shimred faintly under the dim blue light. He swirled it lazily, watching the liquid spiral before looking back at .
"To be blunt…" He took a sip, then continued with a casual cruelty that didn't match the weight of his words, "the yellow-tailed rfolk are our livestock. They exist for the sake of prolonging our lives—those of us with red or blue tails."
I froze.
For a mont, the words didn't fully register. Livestock?
My mind imdiately conjured the worst possibilities. Were they slaughtered and eaten? Used as bait to lure predators from the city's borders? Or perhaps sothing even worse—sothing ritualistic. A biological harvest of so kind.
Reviews
All reviews (0)