Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!

The last thing I remembered… was pain.

The sensation of every single bone in my body—breaking. One by one. A

After that… I remembered water and submerging.

A hollow numbness taking over as consciousness slipped from me.

So yes, I could believe their story about them saving me. It wasn't implausible.

Because I couldn't exactly deny the reality in front of me.

"This is an underwater architecture," I muttered under my breath. No matter how much I tried to rationalize it, the evidence was overwhelming. The structures, the glistening coral embedded into the design, the fluid movements...

Everything around me confirmed it.

I could feel the water against my skin. I could touch it—see the ripples when I moved. And yet… I could breathe.

That made no sense.

No human without innate water affinity—or some artifact—could possibly breathe underwater unaided. It defied common magical understanding. And yet here I was, inhaling without resistance. Breathing without pain.

Even more bizarre?

I felt no pressure. No crushing weight from the deep. It was as if gravity had simply decided I didn't exist. My body stood perfectly upright, completely stable. As though I were still on solid land.

This wasn't just unnatural. It was impossible.

'A lot of things that shouldn't have happened have already happened,' I reminded myself. 'At this point, questioning them won't give me any answers. Not unless I find out more. Not unless I research.'

Research… right.

That had gone so well last time.

I could still remember stepping into that damned library. The man. And then… getting attacked by that spawn of Vorr'Kael.

All of it—just a reminder of how hopelessly weak I still was.

And it was my fault.

I had been getting complacent. Careless. Depending too much on instinct and not enough on study. I never took time to understand mana—my mana.

My affinity.

I just threw myself at monsters and hoped that brute force would do the trick. That somehow, fighting enough enemies would make me strong.

Sure, experience points helped. Combat honed reflexes. Built awareness. Pushed survival instincts to their limits.

But training—actual training—and research? That created masters. Precision and efficiency. It was the difference between a brawler who relied on raw muscle and a fighter who had studied their art—knew when to strike, when to retreat, and where to aim.

'If I don't work on myself… I'll break. I'll fall apart. Not just to beasts like that one, but… to my own element.'

A sigh left my lips, unfiltered by the water that surrounded me.

I turned my attention back to the two merfolk standing—floating?—in front of me. They seemed equally fascinated and horrified by everything I had explained so far. I'd given them a basic rundown on mana, affinities, the ★ system, and how humans manifested abilities.

Their expressions were… priceless.

The younger one looked like I had told him the sky was made of blood. Pure, wide-eyed panic. Confusion painted across every inch of his face. His thoughts were practically written in his expression—how he was struggling to reconcile his beliefs with what I'd said.

It was, honestly, a little amusing… I guess.

He was also talking about something interesting. Specifically—about a 'Codex' he kept ranting about it.

He mumbled constantly, almost like a nervous tic.

"The Codex didn't say anything about this…"

"The Codex never mentioned humans being that strong…"

"The Codex doesn't lie. Ancestors don't lie. The Codex is truth…"

Over and over again.

Meanwhile, the older one was more composed. His features were thoughtful, analytical. He was trying to think through it—piece things together logically. It didn't make him trust me, but it made him more bearable to deal with.

Still, I couldn't quite wrap my head around one thing:

'Why are they so obsessed with humans?'

What did it matter?

Was it fear? Did they think humans would come down here and wipe them out?

'That's plausible,' I admitted. Humans were… predictable like that.

So I decided to ask.

Clearing my throat—or at least mimicking the motion—I spoke up, "Excuse me, sir. May I ask… why do you give land-dwellers such extensive attention? Why so much paranoia over a species that doesn't even know you exist?"

Both merfolk turned to me instantly. The younger one flinched, but the elder held my gaze.

I continued, my tone calm. "If you're worried about being attacked, I can assure you—most humans have no idea there's an entire civilization living beneath the ocean. They don't even know whether you exist or not."

The one named Muirs blinked, eyes bulging in disbelief. "They don't know? They don't even know we exist?"

I nodded solemnly. "Yes. As far as my knowledge stretches, there hasn't been a single official record of your species. Truthfully… even if they did know about you, I doubt they would care. The ocean, to land dwellers, is a mystery wrapped in danger. And they have their hands full with their own mess."

Luris tilted his head, his voice low and curious. "Such as?"

I met his eyes and replied calmly, "Monsters. Mana-mutated beasts. In some places, entire regions are ruled by creatures no man dares name. Cities have fallen to them. Villages disappear overnight. Even if we forget all that… the truth is, land dwellers fight among themselves more than anything else. For resources. For territory. For artifacts, ideologies, ambitions… for the future. There's always something. Peace is just a pause in the violence."

Luris fell silent, his expression turning thoughtful, distant. He seemed to weigh my words carefully, perhaps comparing them to whatever knowledge he held of humans. Then, slowly, he nodded. "That seems fair. It matches what little we've known—what we thought we knew. Still… Arawn, you are our guest. We offer you no hostility, nor do we wish you harm. It's true that our people hold a certain animosity toward humans, but personally…" he exhaled softly, "I'd rather not dwell on such things. The past should remain in the past."

I offered a graceful bow, my tone sincere. "Such deep and noble thoughts… truly fitting of a prince. Your words show innate wisdom, the kind not taught, but born. I imagine your nation must be proud to have you as their leader."

Luris chuckled, but the sound was hollow. The corners of his lips curled into a smile, yet his eyes… they remained heavy, distant, burdened by something invisible. "You think so because I saved you, Arawn. You believe in the idea of me. In truth, I don't know if I deserve that praise. I will take the throne, yes… but I doubt I will ever take the hearts of my people."

A false leader, then. One without faith in his own ability to rule. Someone raised for a throne but shackled by the weight of expectation, by the doubt in his own soul.

He had saved me, true. And now I owed him a debt.

I didn't like debts.

'He helped me… I should return the favor. And perhaps,' I thought, eyes narrowing slightly, 'this could be my way in to learn about the Codex more. But I'll need their trust to learn more. Building a relationship with them wouldn't be a bad idea.'