Episode 11
The room was steeped in the stillness of night.
A feather slowly twirled between Alay’s fingertips.
It was a siren’s feather.
Just moments ago, each of the sirens had left behind one of their feathers before departing.
It was said that the feathers carried magic—enough that their presence could be faintly felt even from afar.
“If you ever want to call us, just snap the feather! No matter where you are, we’ll come right away!”
That’s what Asello, the eldest-looking of the sirens, had said.
But as far as Ophelia was concerned, she didn’t seem particularly interested in the idea of simply being able to summon them anytime.
“Thank you for the feather. But I have another request.”
“What is it?”
“Your leader—Sante. Bring him here tomorrow.”
“Sante? You mean that Sante? But he doesn’t really move around much…”
The sirens grumbled, but Ophelia remained firm.
“That’s your job. Bring him here, and I’ll give you some food from the land. How about that?”
“Food from the land? We’ve never had that before!”
“Isn’t this the perfect chance to try?”
“Okay!”
Young sirens were surprisingly easy to deal with. Of course, it helped that Ophelia negotiated with the kind of ease that made it clear she already knew how to handle their personalities.
That was exactly why Alay was puzzled.
To call upon such mythical beasts—whose existence wasn’t even certain—and handle them so effortlessly… how could a woman raised in the imperial palace manage that?
In fact, there was one question Alay had been wanting to ask ever since he reunited with Ophelia. Strangely enough, it wasn’t about his lost memories.
Nor was it even something he should have prioritized over those memories.
What good would it do to know what kind of relationship they had before his memory loss?
What he wanted to know was: How had Ophelia come to possess all this knowledge? What exactly was she trying to gain by helping him? How did she even know about him in the first place?
Rationally speaking, none of these questions should be his top priority.
That is, unless Ophelia’s information proved unreliable. But as things stood now, Alay trusted her.
So, the moment the sirens left, Alay asked the one question sitting at the very top of his mind:
“Are they the ones who will help me recover my memory?”
“Of course.”
She answered almost as if it was a silly question. When he turned his gaze, he saw Ophelia untying the handkerchief around her wrist, roughly wiping the seawater from her feet.
Her skirt was tied high enough to expose her thighs, and perched on a reef as she was, her posture looked awkward.
For some reason, that bothered Alay. Maybe it was just in his nature to dislike clumsiness.
“You seem uncomfortable.”
“Hmm, the towel’s smaller than I thought.”
It wasn’t really the towel’s fault, and truthfully, Alay could’ve used his abilities to instantly dry her off.
But he held his tongue. Interfering in other people’s affairs wasn’t his style.
“Why don’t you just go back?”
“If Lilith finds out I snuck out, I’ll have to deal with a whole mess… Oh, remember that lieutenant who traveled with us to Radin?”
“Ah.”
That loud woman.
Alay frowned faintly as he recalled the woman—technically Ophelia’s subordinate—who looked at her like she was some massive obstacle in her life.
He bent down and gently took Ophelia’s awkwardly moving hand in his own.
“If you keep fumbling like that, the sun will rise before you’re done. Let me. Just sit.”
“…This wasn’t supposed to be something I made you do.”
“You didn’t. I volunteered.”
Magic would’ve made this faster, but Alay had used quite a bit of it today and was starting to feel drained.
Ophelia fell silent for a moment. Perhaps she was embarrassed. He wanted to see the expression on her face, but Alay kept his eyes focused on the towel. Just lifting his head slightly would mean seeing her pale legs in full.
He recalled that the spot she had dipped her feet into wasn’t very deep, yet her calves were soaked halfway up.
Alay held her foot in one hand and began gently wiping down her skin with the other. As she silently watched him work, Ophelia spoke.
“You said you’re from the Mage Tower, right?”
“You did.”
“Siren is not only the name of a magical creature—it’s also the name of the Mage Tower’s communication network. So of course you’d be connected to them.”
“Then why did you ask to bring their leader?”
“Because… I think he might know who you are.”
There was a pause. Perhaps he’d touched a sensitive spot; her toes flexed tightly. Her neatly pointed toes were as pale as her legs.
Pale.
Alay repeated the word in his head, savoring it absentmindedly.
“Most people think the Mage Tower is just protected by a barrier, but in truth, it’s located somewhere much harder to reach—right in the middle of the sea, surrounded by siren colonies. Even by boat, it’s nearly impossible to approach.”
“…”
“…Alay?”
Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, her gaze met his—her foot still resting in his hand.
That look again. That expression. That warmth.
Her red hair fluttered in the breeze. Her blue eyes were vivid. Even though the moon wasn’t particularly bright, Alay could see her lips move clearly.
Against the black sea and dark reef, Ophelia stood out all too sharply.
“Are you listening?”
Alay quickly nodded, just to keep himself from frowning.
“…Yes. I was just surprised.”
“Understandable. I was surprised when I first heard it too. Who would think the Tower could be in the middle of the sea?”
Alay nodded absentmindedly and resumed wiping her leg. Thankfully, Ophelia didn’t seem to suspect anything.
That meant no need for further excuses. And considering Alay wasn’t someone good at lying, it was for the best.
He didn’t have to speak the word that had crossed his mind just moments ago.
Still, though he could hide it from Ophelia, he couldn’t hide it from himself.
Because no matter what, he had chosen not to use his drying spell.
It wasn’t a guiltless night.
And maybe the night punished him for it—because the moment he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of Ophelia.
No, it was a red-haired, blue-eyed woman.
He couldn’t remember her face clearly. Just the hair. Just the eyes.
Her hair color was just like Ophelia’s, but when Alay awoke from the dream, he instinctively knew it wasn’t her.
The woman in the dream had laughed brightly. She had been cheerful.
“Really? Then I can walk on land too?”
And she had the lower body of a fish.
Was that part of my lost memories?
Even after waking, Alay sat there in a daze for a long while.
It had felt too vivid to be just a dream. But if it wasn’t a dream—then who was that woman?
A red-haired, blue-eyed woman.
Obviously not Ophelia—no princess would be a mermaid.
But… could someone so similar truly have no connection to Ophelia?
There were too many oddities to deny the possibility.
The way she skillfully handled sirens, who most people didn’t even believe existed. The in-depth knowledge she had about the Mage Tower, despite it being virtually unknown to the public.
On the way back from the shore yesterday, Ophelia had said:
“You’ve helped me a lot, so I’ll answer one more question. Ask anything you’re curious about.”
That offer had weighed on Alay’s conscience, but he wasn’t a saint—he couldn’t just let go of the opportunity in the name of virtue.
“Then… if I ask your true goal, will you answer?”
“My goal?”
“What is it you hope to gain by restoring my memories?”
After learning about the sirens, Alay realized the “favor” Ophelia had asked—using information about his memories—was ultimately also aimed at recovering his memories.
Most deals are made to benefit the one proposing them. So why would she go out of her way for his sake?
Then again, maybe it was simple:
“The restored version of me—what use is he to you, that you’d go to such lengths?”
Even if she seemed to be doing it for his benefit, it was really in her own interest in the end.
Ophelia flinched slightly at his directness.
Then, she admitted:
“You’re right. But I can’t answer that question.”
“I figured.”
Honestly, he hadn’t expected much.
Ophelia wasn’t foolish. If revealing her objective had helped her, she would’ve told him from the start.
That’s precisely why he hadn’t asked earlier.
But now that the chance was here, it seemed like a waste to let it slip by.
So Alay reached for a different question—something lower on his list, but less personal.
“Then, could you tell me how you came to know all this?”
“You mean about the sirens, and the Mage Tower?”
“Yes. Is it difficult?”
“Not really. Actually, I’m surprised you hadn’t figured it out yet.”
“Figured out what?”
“You’re from the Tower. And I know you.”
Ophelia turned her head.
Their eyes met, close—too close.
“Everything I know… you were the one who told me.”
