Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 279. Malice and Benevolence

"I should probably explain it better. You seem… rather perplexed," Kainal said at last, his voice dipping with faint amusement, though the weariness beneath it couldn't be hidden.

I gave him a curt nod, my eyes fixed on his face. "Go on," I gestured for him to continue.

He let out a quiet sigh then began idly swirling the glass in his hand. The faint liquid inside rippled under the dim blue light of the coral lamps.

"You've heard about our deity, haven't you? The Red Sea…"

"Yes," I replied. "I've heard of it, but only in passing. I know it's the deity of your kind, but nothing more."

"Hmmm…" His expression darkened as he hummed thoughtfully. "That's how it usually is. Even among our people, the name is spoken with reverence but not with understanding. For most of the merfolk, the Red Sea is nothing more than a protector—a divine guardian whose benevolence supposedly knows no bounds."

He let out a hollow laugh, one without joy, without even the pretense of faith. "But that… isn't the truth at all."

His tone grew quieter, heavier, as if each word was being pulled from the depths of the abyss itself. "The personification of confinement and freedom… misery and joy… suffering and euphoria. The being who veils the seas, who drapes the oceans beneath a blanket of blood. Our deity—the sovereign of the seas—is none other than The Red Sea."

The phrasing struck me immediately. I'd heard those exact words before from Denus. The same rhythm, the same solemnity, the same contradiction between reverence and dread.

Kainal's eyes, which moments ago had been dull and tired, suddenly sharpened. He looked at me with that deep, oceanic glare.

"Tell me, Arawn," he said in a low voice that rumbled like the echo of thunder through the water, "don't you find something amiss with that incantation? Something that feels… off? Words that don't fit the portrait of a kind and merciful god?"

I paused, letting the phrase roll in my mind once again. Confinement. Misery. Suffering.

"Those words… Confinement, Misery and Suffering," I said slowly, meeting his gaze. "They don't belong in an invocation for a benevolent being. Not unless that being embodies both cruelty and compassion."

Kainal smiled—a grim, knowing smile that never reached his eyes. "Exactly. You see it, don't you? That's precisely what most of my kind ignore. They chant the name of the Red Sea, sing praises of its 'grace,' and yet turn a blind eye to the chains embedded in their hymns."

He leaned back, his tone turning almost wistful. "Most merfolk worship out of habit, not comprehension. They call the Red Sea their savior because they fear what it truly is. They pretend it is kind because the truth… the truth would drive them to despair."

For a moment, silence reigned between us—thick and heavy like the pressure at the sea's floor. I could hear the faint pulse of the ocean through the walls, the sound of something vast and ancient breathing just beyond reach.

Kainal took another sip of his drink, his voice softening. "To know the Red Sea is to understand that benevolence and malice are not opposites. They are the same current flowing in different directions. And those who swim too deep into that current…" 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

He trailed off, setting the glass down gently. "…They never return unchanged."

His words came out tangled, half-truths woven with hesitation. He wasn't telling me the real reason, not directly at least.

Something was stopping him, as if invisible chains bound his tongue. Each sentence felt like a cipher, a riddle I was meant to piece together. And damn it, it worked—my curiosity toward the Red Sea only grew sharper, hungrier.

Naime's expression didn't do much to ease the tension either. If anything, it amplified it. His lips quivered slightly; his gills fluttered unevenly.

He was trembling—not enough for an ordinary person to notice, but I did. And though sweating underwater was impossible, I had the distinct feeling that if it weren't, he'd be drenched by now.

The small, involuntary gestures gave him away—the way he kept rubbing his palms together, the quick darting of his eyes that refused to settle on mine, the subtle gulp that echoed faintly through the water. Every bit of his body language screamed discomfort, fear even.

But fear of what?

What exactly was making him this uneasy? It wasn't me—that much was clear. His fear wasn't directed outward; it was inward, like something unseen was watching him, waiting for him to slip.

Was there really a force preventing him from speaking? A curse? A vow? Or something far more sinister, something that silenced him even now, deep beneath the crimson waves?

I decided not to push it—at least, not yet. I'd pry the truth out eventually, perhaps after having a word with Wannre. She might know something; she usually did. For now, I forced myself to focus on the scraps Kainal had given me.

Let's see… from what he'd said, discrimination in the Red Sea wasn't born out of arrogance or pride—it was survival. A grim necessity, not a choice. The Yellow-Tailed merfolk, the ones they treated as nothing more than expendable tools or even livestock, were tied into that grim logic somehow.

But survival from what?

The question gnawed at me as I pieced the fragments together in my mind. His words, his fear, the strange weight pressing around us—it all hinted at something deeper, darker.

The Red Sea wasn't exactly a benevolent being that much was already clear. But what kind of malevolent act it did for the yellow tailed merfolks to try into livestocks…

'Wait a minute… livestocks!'

What exactly did livestock mean? It was a term used for domesticated animals which were used for commercial products. Not exactly for expense as monetary currency didn't exactly work here.

But in the simplest of terms. The term itself was used to associate animals which were disposable. Or raised for a specific purpose.