JGMH | Chapter 1

The mermaids of legend, they said, have lured sailors to their doom for generations.

The seed of chaos sown by the Mother of Tempests.

To put it crudely—

“A man-eating fish.”

Between her tightly bound arms, Leviss lowered her head slightly. The voice was as cold as ice, and for that, she thought it fortunate her face revealed none of the fear she felt deep within.

Strands of wet hair clung to her eyelids, yet the radiant light enveloping the space warmed her to the bone.

Such an imposing place could never belong to an ordinary human. The woman before her, accustomed to giving orders, poked at Leviss’s body with a finely polished scepter, as though counting ribs.

“The Viscount of Linton thought it appropriate to offer His Majesty… a fish?”

“Yes? There aren’t many gifts left intact like this, I assure you.”

“That’s correct! I can vouch for its rarity!”

Though she muttered irritably to herself, sycophants hurried to agree. Anxiety prickled Leviss as she curled her tail beneath the murky water. She was in the heart of the land, within a human palace, no less.

The scepter, which had explored her stiffened body after so long confined to the glass tank, glided over her smooth cheek before pressing against her forehead.

The woman, draped in extravagant garments, pressed the flat end of the scepter onto Leviss’s forehead once more, as though marking her with a seal.

“Indeed. A specimen without a single blemish.”

“It cannot compare to the untainted glory of Tiernan, of course… but it is a humble token of my devotion.”

“Is that so?”

Who could have imagined she would stand before the Queen of Tiernan? Her parched skin and the haze clouding her mind prevented her from opening her eyes fully.

The queen, cutting off the merchant’s honeyed words, scrutinized Leviss’s condition closely. With deliberate slowness, the queen turned the scepter against her cheeks, forcing her head side to side before jabbing under her chin to lift it.

“All the rare treasures of this world ought to find their way to His —”

“And what purpose does this serve?”

“W-Well… Isn’t it beautiful to behold?”

“An ornament, then?”

The merchants, who had been grinning slyly, fell silent under the queen’s venomous tone.

Her fiery temper had reportedly worn the king down; the rumors were proving accurate. Though her veiled face obscured her expression, the malevolent glint in her eyes pierced through.

Unable to bear their hesitation any longer, the viscount stepped forward.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty. Imagine this rare fish swimming in the palace’s garden pond—how marvelous it would be!”

“A rare fish, unscathed even down to its scales.”

The queen, her mocking tone fading, withdrew the scepter aimed at the mermaid.

“As it happens, His Majesty has whispered something to me regarding Your Majesty’s upcoming birthday.”

The Viscount of Linton dismissed the merchants and took another step closer, bowing deeply to the queen. He recalled the tale of a count who, caught offering a beautiful desert dancer to the king, was intercepted by the queen and had his wrist severed.

Though she had not erupted into fury, her silence did not bode well.

“His Majesty?”

When the queen prompted him, the viscount scrambled to formulate an explanation. Yet his impulsive tongue betrayed his thoughts faster than his mind could.

“T-That is to say… His Majesty…”

“Would also wish to keep this a secret, no doubt?”

“Yes, precisely, Your Majesty!”

The queen’s gaze swept over the foolish man grasping at straws to save himself. He seemed pitiful, clueless on how to dress his lies in finer garb.

“Then I shall not ask further. I will personally ensure this offering reaches His Majesty.”

Having had her fill of toying with the viscount, she decided to end the fruitless exchange.

“Very well. At the banquet, I shall confirm the sincerity of your devotion. You may leave.”

“Y-Yes… I am eternally grateful for your magnanimity, Your Majesty. It is an honor to have taken your precious time.”

Would it truly end like this? The viscount dared not raise his head as he slowly retreated.

Only the queen’s attendants, intimately familiar with her preferences, could hope to appease her. As the viscount left, calculating how much he’d need to bribe the palace staff, his steps quickened.

Once the merchants and their retinue had exited, silence engulfed the audience chamber.

The open tank exuded the fetid stench of murky water, yet the mermaid within was untouched by the filth, her beauty as pristine as a lotus rising from the mire.

Discarding her earlier pretense of appreciation, the queen dispassionately lifted her scepter again, jabbing Leviss squarely in the sternum.

The mermaid coughed and gasped, her cries strangled in her throat, as the queen studied her agonized expression. The trembling eyes, unable to find a place to rest, seemed pitiable. The queen smiled curiously.

“You make quite a human-like sound. Can you speak?”

Leviss, her face drained of all color, kept her lips tightly sealed, which only further provoked the queen’s sadistic curiosity.

“Such a wretched creature.”

She stabbed at Leviss’s sternum once more. Pain overwhelmed the mermaid, threatening to choke the life from her.

The queen, her veiled reflection shimmering in the mermaid’s innocent eyes, clicked her tongue in amusement.

“Your hair, however, pleases me. It would make fine fabric.”

Scooping up strands of Leviss’s sky-blue hair with her staff, as though it were seaweed floating on the surface, the queen’s cruel smile seared itself into the mermaid’s memory.

Chilled to the bone, Leviss flinched, her body rigid with fear.

“You seem perceptive enough.”

“…”

“It will be more amusing to train you than a dog.”

A dog. The way the queen uttered the word made Leviss’s skin crawl. In the distance, footsteps echoed faintly.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Sir Wayne?”

The queen’s voice turned lively, and Leviss instinctively followed her gaze to a man standing in the shadows.

Oddly, a faint sense of relief washed over her upon realizing they were not alone, despite knowing he served the queen.

The man, though lacking the formal attire of a knight, carried himself with an air of restrained composure.

Leviss’s eyes darted between the queen’s blood-red gown and the man’s dust-streaked, rugged appearance.

“Her Highness the Princess seeks your presence.”

“And the nursemaid?”

Even in silence, the man’s very presence urged the queen to leave the chamber.

Though he remained expressionless, something about the situation amused the queen, and she chuckled softly.

“Has the princess troubled you again today? If you’re not complaining about her dismissing the nursemaid, then quell that look in your eyes, Ross.”

“It is nothing, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s inquiry was almost habitual. Her thoughts briefly flitted to the nursemaid’s absence, but she graciously chose to overlook the knight’s impropriety.

Though he often tiptoed across boundaries, he carried out her more significant commands with unwavering responsibility. For now, she could afford to indulge him.

Leviss calmed her breathing, relieved that the queen’s attention had shifted elsewhere. One thing was clear: crossing the queen would mean a fate worse than death.

Though she had faced death many times, no one had ever exuded such lethal malice.

“Nothing, you say? Yet your face betrays your displeasure at the increased workload.”

“It is nothing, Your Majesty.”

“But even in a day’s observation, it’s plain to see Eisentein prefers you over the nursemaid. Truly, it would be a waste for you to live solely as a huntsman.”

Ross. Ross Wayne. A huntsman, and a knight. Leviss repeated the words, trying to make sense of the man who had entered the queen’s court.

When the queen lifted her veil, Leviss’s breath hitched.

Her cruel voice belied a youthful, even strikingly beautiful face.

“Is that so?”

Leviss’s gaze lingered on the flowing fabric of the veil. The knight, defiant even before the unpredictable queen, piqued her curiosity.

Was he favored more than his appearance suggested?

“My daughter has a talent for swordsmanship, and where else could I find a teacher as skilled as you?”

“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”

Leviss, now accustomed to the queen’s duality, observed the queen’s elegant smile and shifted her gaze to the scepter in her hand.

Moments ago, it had inflicted unspeakable torment. Now, she stood as the epitome of royal grace, her presence commanding reverence as she strolled through the chamber’s grand hall..

“The nursemaid was truly a wonderful woman. I doubt we’ll ever find another one quite like her.”

Her words cast a shadow and darkened the expression of the man at her side. Beneath his perfectly composed demeanor, his fatigue seeped through—though his eyes betrayed no weariness, only a sharp, predatory focus. Like a beast lying in wait for its prey. The man bowed slightly as decorum required, but even then, his towering figure was impossible to conceal.

“But a loose tongue always invites calamity. That’s why I like you, Rosander,” 

Unlike the fearful nursemaid she spoke of, this escort knight was a man who knew how to keep secrets. Her gaze lingered on his green eyes, vivid as the forest, as though searching for something unspoken. A curse-like prophecy echoed in her memory. Once, this man had hidden his face beneath a helm, his identity a mystery. Now, he stood without armor, unadorned yet unyielding. Yes, this knight with emerald eyes—Rosander—could not kill her.

One side spoke with an air of nonchalance, attempting in any way possible to draw out a reaction, while the other stood like an unyielding wall, impenetrable and unmoving.

Caught in the tension of this absurd performance, Leviss felt a wave of weariness wash over her. Her gaze, drifting aimlessly, finally settled on the insolent man—Ross—and locked onto his eyes.

“What are you staring at, Rosander Wayne?”