Section Eight: Farewell, Secret Agents of the Republic (Part One)

Before Amango sat a newly ascended noblewoman, clad in a blue gauze dress, its printed patterns edged with gold thread and tiny pearls to emphasize her opulence. The cuffs revealed an undersleeve made from the finest fabric—he suspected it hailed from the Far East. At her collar, a lining of vivid red fox fur gleamed brightly, suiting the old nobility's taste for beauty and extravagance. Though she was no longer young, attired so, she seemed like a ripe, sweet peach waiting to be savored.

Amango, however, sat upright, his gaze impeccably proper, for he had always been an honest young man. More importantly, this lady was none other than Cecily's mother, Mrs. Hegel—sometimes called Lady Sera.

Urged by a friend, the young man had finally paid a visit. Yet, regrettably, Mr. Hegel and Cecily were both absent. Lady Sera explained that Cecily had gone to the Armory Department’s ball, while Mr. Hegel, now a favored figure in the department, had recently been summoned repeatedly by the minister and might soon be received by the Minister of Defense.

Amango chose a blue pearl from those Wei Wuji had given him and placed it in a box as a gift. Lady Sera accepted this precious offering with surprise. For some reason, Amango sensed she seemed a little wan, not quite happy. Since neither Cecily nor the master of the house was present, he had no intention to linger. After exchanging a few words about his time abroad, he made to take his leave.

Yet just as he was about to rise, Lady Sera looked at him oddly and suddenly said, “I remember you’re fond of Cecily, aren’t you?”

The young man was struck with panic, his face flushing red as he nodded furiously.

Lady Sera observed him, giving a hardly noticeable nod, then whispered, “She should be home tonight. My husband won’t be in.”

Fleeing the Hegel residence, Amango felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He was still puzzled by Lady Sera’s meaning, though he sensed she wished to help him. Yet her last comment hinted at a less promising future: it seemed Mr. Hegel had forgotten the old friendship between their families and was no longer welcoming.

“Amango?”

At the sound of his name, so familiar and longed for, Amango turned, trembling slightly.

He saw a beautiful woman wrapped in a white cloak trimmed with gold. Beneath, a red gown of the finest fabric clung to her form. She wore an Annie cap, from whose tip a mist-like veil fell, half-concealing her face. Yet the veil was but an ornament, offering no true concealment; through it, Amango saw the face he knew so well.

“Cecily?” Amango called uncertainly. That face was as exquisite as ever, but now bore a new air of nobility. The earrings at her lobes, the dazzling necklace at her throat—each was a costly jewel.

“It really is you, Amango! You’re back—that’s wonderful!” The girl lost all reserve, grabbing his hand and nearly jumping with joy.

Her warmth infected the young man. He smiled, thinking to produce another gift, only to remember he had already given the present he’d prepared to Cecily’s mother.

“I—I just saw your mother,” Amango stammered.

Beneath the veil, her face clouded for an instant—so brief Amango wondered if he’d imagined it.

Cecily lifted the gauzy veil, biting her lip as she gazed at him. “Do you know you’ve been gone three years? Three years—how much has changed. You’re not as fair as you used to be.”

“Did you prefer how I looked before?”

She laughed softly, her voice like wind-borne bells. Tilting her head, she replied, “No, I like you even more as you are now.”

A reassuring warmth rose in Amango’s heart. The vague worries he’d felt after speaking with his uncle and Lady Sera vanished. Cecily had not changed, or if she had, it was only to grow more lovely.

“Did you come to see me?” she asked.

“Of course. You were the first person I wanted to see on my return. But I hadn’t seen Uncle Harrison in three years, so I went home first. Luckily—otherwise I wouldn’t have known you’d moved here.”

“Are you well?” they both asked at once. Amango looked at her with burning eyes; the girl, unable to bear the intensity, turned her head aside.

He couldn’t help but seize her hand. She looked back at him, startled as a frightened rabbit, and twice tried to pull free but could not.

“In fact, I came to ask Mr. Hegel for your hand.” Knowing it was bold to broach such a topic on a public street, Amango pressed on. Lady Sera’s hint worried him—if Mr. Hegel truly opposed the match, he needed to be forthright, to give both himself and Cecily some confidence, and perhaps learn her father’s stance from her.

Yet, to his surprise, the first resistance came from Cecily herself. She covered her lips, panic flickering in her eyes. In them, Amango saw neither joy nor the deep affection of their moonlit vows, but rather a shadow akin to that he had glimpsed in Lady Sera’s gaze.

“No, don’t.” Though still holding his hand, the beautiful girl involuntarily took two steps back.

Amango’s heart plummeted, but he managed to softly ask, “Is it because of Mr. Hegel?”

“It is…” The veil on her hat fell between them like an invisible wall. “No, don’t overthink it. Just—please, don’t.”

His heart soared like a wave, then crashed and shattered into countless pieces.

Numb with cold, he let her delicate hand slip from his grasp and gazed quietly and sorrowfully at the veil, at the eyes behind it, now reflecting his own sorrow.

“Forget me, will you?” Cecily whispered, then fled toward her home.

A chill settled over him, unnoticed. He watched her disappearing figure until she was gone, then turned in a daze and crossed the street, where he saw Wei Wuji standing with arms folded.

“I saw it all. Seems there really is an obstacle.”

Amango, pale as death, nodded weakly. This was truly the worst of days.

Wei Wuji put an arm around his shoulders and shrugged. “Don’t be like this. Listen—go back to your uncle’s house now, stop thinking about it, and get a good sleep. Leave the rest to me; I’ll see if there’s a way to help.”

Amango was completely bewildered. He forgot entirely that his friend was but a stranger in this land and placed his hopes in him, nodding heavily.

Gold and red fish swam among the underwater weeds. This was a depth beyond any human’s diving limit, unreachable even to the pearl-diving women of the Far Eastern Sea. White palaces, surrounded by darkness and swaying weeds, shone brilliantly. A giant squid approached, drawn by the scent of prey, only to retreat at once under the pressure of a formless power.

“Uncle, please teach me—I want to be able to change my tail into human legs,” came Helen’s coquettish voice from within the palace.

“I’ve told you, once you come of age, you’ll be able to do that,” replied a man, resigned.

“My birthday’s tomorrow,” Helen muttered under her breath.

“Oh, your birthday’s tomorrow? Congratulations—I’d forgotten. But what are you planning? Want to go ashore? Humans don’t like our kind. I’m living proof—if I weren’t a siren, perhaps she would have accepted me…” The man watched his young niece warily.

“Yes, I’m curious about the land. I want to get closer, so I thought I’d change my tail and walk ashore.” Helen admitted this readily, though her real intentions were more complicated.

Hermes, brother to Emperor Sargon, felt relieved at her open confession. The longing for the rich world above was ever-present among the sea folk. If only high-ranking Feshians could transform and walk on land upon coming of age, perhaps humanity would face invasion from both land and “sea beastmen.”

After a moment’s thought, Hermes said, “Very well, I’ll teach you the spell to transform—it’ll be your birthday gift. But you must wait until tomorrow, after you come of age, to use it. Only then will you have the magic to survive outside the water, and only then can the spell work.”

Author’s Note: I’ll try applying for a publishing contract for this novel on the main site later. If it’s accepted, updates should come a bit quicker. If not, don’t worry—I’ll still finish it eventually, though updates might be slower, since my writing pace follows my interests. Lately, I’m intrigued by the “infinite flow” genre, and I’ve started another story—an “infinite romance” with a female lead who, after being betrayed, is thrust into an endless realm (called Paradise Lost in the story). The first world is the film Titanic. The story is called Infinite Love—feel free to check it out.

As for The Arch-Enemy: Revolution, I’ll finish it bit by bit. It’s a series of loosely connected stories, each with its own protagonist, who may appear in each other’s tales. For example, the protagonist from the “Treasure” arc will appear in “Revolution.”

There’s a third book in the Arch-Enemy series I’ve conceptualized but won’t write—it’s about the northern elves’ war with humanity, where elves, though powerful in both magic and arms, are eventually overwhelmed by humans as they industrialize. Occasionally, legendary heroes arise to reclaim lost lands, only to be driven back again. The story would suit a grim, Devil’s Island tone, and could end in utter ruin, but alas, I don’t write explicit fiction.

As for a fourth book—haha, the weather’s lovely today, let’s leave that for another time. My thanks again to everyone who’s recommended my stories.

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