A Mermaid’s Excursion

7.Confession to the Abyss

Bai Mu and Bubble dove into the deep sea where even bioluminescent creatures no longer existed.

The pressure intensified. The cold pierced to the bone. All light vanished completely.

This was the edge of the Abyss of Oblivion.

Here, the seawater itself seemed imbued with a viscous malice, constantly attempting to stir intruders’ thoughts into chaos and drag them into nothingness.

As they moved forward through absolute darkness and silence, a point of eerie green light suddenly flared to life.

The glow came from a colossal coral nest, twisted like a mass of limbs frozen in agony.

The nest clung to the edge of a bottomless trench. Countless pearls, gold, silver, and indescribable objects—things that seemed to have time itself sealed within them—were scattered around it, forming a grotesque “garden.”

A figure lounged lazily at the center of the nest, reclining upon a throne fashioned from an enormous shell.

She looked more like a serpent-woman than a mermaid.

Her upper body retained a humanoid form, draped in a shawl woven of seaweed and octopus tentacles. Her lower half was a massive serpentine tail covered in scales the color of clotted blood—dark violet-black, sharp-edged like blades. Long white hair floated around her like living sea anemones, moving without any current. Tiny skulls emitting a faint glow were tangled in her hair—remnants of small marine creatures.

Her beauty was breathtaking and dangerous.

The corners of her eyes slanted upward, as if mocking every human notion of propriety.

But what truly unsettled the soul was this—

She had no pupils.

Her eyes were two pale, self-luminous pearls, reflecting nothing at all—only endless depth.

The deep-sea witch—Ursula.

A name that in ancient sea songs was sometimes taboo, sometimes legend, and sometimes a last resort for the desperate. She dwelled beyond the “Whale-Bone Grave,” and was said to know every forgotten bargain and hidden price of both sea and land.

Ursula stared without blinking at Bai Mu and the trembling Bubble, her gaze openly curious.

“Oh my…”

Her voice slithered forth, hoarse and slick, like a sea snake brushing against the ear.

“How long has it been… since a beautiful little mermaid scented with moonlight willingly swam into my Listening Chamber?”

Her eyes flicked to Bubble.

“And she even brought along… a delightful little snack?”

Bubble froze instantly, nearly fainting.

“Great Siren, Sea Witch of the Abyss,” Bai Mu said, forcing herself to endure the soul-deep discomfort. She positioned herself in front of Bubble and faced those pale eyes.

“I am Bai Mu, a child of the deep sea. I seek to make a bargain with you.”

Her voice rang clearly through the dead water as she struggled to remain calm.

“I ask that you grant me a pair of legs capable of walking upon land—stable, enduring, sufficient to carry me through what must be done. I am willing to pay… a reasonable price.”

Ursula’s lips curved upward.

She drifted from her throne, floating closer like a ghost. Her icy gaze traced Bai Mu’s beautiful tail before settling on her anxious yet resolute face.

“A bargain…” Ursula repeated slowly.

One of her dark strands extended like a tendril, idly toying with a pearl.

“I like that word. Far more interesting than ‘prayer’ or ‘sacrifice.’”

Her laughter popped like bursting bubbles, full of malice and insight.

“I can smell it on you—your longing for the land… and the sweetness of despair.”

Bai Mu’s heart tightened. The witch knew. From the moment she entered this domain, her thoughts had likely ceased to be secrets.

“Yes,” Bai Mu replied without retreating.

“I must reach the heart of a human kingdom stricken by plague, and find a way to deliver the purifying power of Moonlit Grass to those who need it most.”

Ursula reclined back onto her throne. Her hair writhed slowly, as if she were thinking—or savoring.

“A plague…” She snorted. “A filthy little human inconvenience.”

Then her expression turned intrigued.

“But tell me, my dear little Bai Mu—why are you so determined? For those short-lived creatures struggling in nets and rotting on decks? Or for that…”

Her finger traced the water. A hazy mirror formed, revealing Prince Allen at a tower window, poring over casualty reports late into the night.

“…that little prince who is nearly exhausting himself?”

The image vanished, but Bai Mu’s heart clenched all the same.

Ursula watched her expression change and smiled wider.

“Tell me,” she murmured, her voice dropping, seductive and piercing straight into the soul.

“Why?”

She drew the word out, her gaze locking onto Bai Mu.

“Tell me your true why. It will determine my price.”

The question stared back at Bai Mu like the abyss itself.

She could not lie. The witch could see the folds of the soul.

Bai Mu fell silent. Darkness and whispers of oblivion pressed in from all sides. She clenched the Moonlit Grass—the cool glow anchoring her to herself.

Then she lifted her head and met Ursula’s gaze.

“I am not going ashore only for Allen,” she said softly but clearly.

“I wish to save those refugees… and more than that—”

Ursula raised an eyebrow.

Silence.

“I want to explore that world.”

The words came slower this time, each one carefully lifted from the depths of her heart, like pearls placed gently upon jade.

“Since childhood, I have been curious about the world above the sea.

Sunlight does not filter down in shattered fragments through layers of water—it spreads openly, freely, across everything.

Is the sound of wind through treetops truly like the songs of old—sometimes sighing, sometimes laughing? Is the scent of flowers really so rich that passersby must stop? And those things they call ‘cities’—stones piled so high, dotted with lights—seen from the sea, they look like an upside-down sky full of stars.”

Her gaze unfocused, piercing through Ursula, through the heavy water, toward images pieced together from shipwreck cargo, dying sailors’ murmurs, and illustrations from floating books.

“I want to stand beneath the sun with these legs and feel its weight and warmth. I want to touch a real leaf, smell the earth after rain. I want to know whether the lives that create such exquisite music walk streets filled with countless sounds and stories—like our Coral City, only… different.”

She drew her eyes back to Ursula.

“Allen was a catalyst—but not the whole reason. I want these legs to reach those who need help, and also to explore the world I have only ever visited in dreams.

My tail can carry me across the seven seas, but there are places it can never reach.”

That faint light illuminated not only the path toward salvation she now sought, but also every afternoon of her childhood spent lying on reefs, gazing toward the land with endless wonder.

In the silence, Bai Mu hovered in the darkness, waiting for Ursula’s answer.