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

"Ahahah… truly splendid." Kainal's laugh cracked through the air. He leaned forward across the coral table, his smirk darkening, stretching too wide for comfort.

His slit-like eyes gleamed with something between amusement and cruelty. "So, Naime… if I'm not mistaken, you wish to dethrone Her Majesty through external means. More specifically, through land dwellers… and even more specifically, through humans. Am I correct?"

His tone was mocking, yet the eagerness in his expression was disturbingly genuine.

For a fleeting moment, Naime's composure faltered. The mad gleam in Kainal's eyes wasn't the cautious interest he had expected—it was hungry, almost unhinged.

That overenthusiastic response made him feel… uneasy. As though, without meaning to, he had stepped into a game far more dangerous than the one he thought he was playing.

Still, Naime forced his shoulders straight, smoothing the ripples of hesitation before they could show. He managed a controlled smirk, though it felt brittle on his lips.

"Ah. You've read me like a book, Kainal. Yes… your guess has struck the mark. I do wish to cooperate with the land dwellers. More specifically… the humans. And yes, I intend to use that cooperation to overthrow Empress Wannre."

The words left his tongue sharper than he had expected, echoing louder in the silence of the hall.

Naime paused deliberately, taking a slow breath before continuing. "Still… I am not blind. There exists a tremendous gap—one I cannot hope to bridge so easily. Reasoning with humans is no simple task. They are not the barbaric savages the Ancestral Codex paints them to be. That much has become obvious to any official with half a functioning brain and a little less pride. And… quite frankly, that is the truth."

His own voice betrayed a faint quiver, one he masked with a forced chuckle. The words sat oddly on his tongue, alien even to himself.

For all his insistence that he was above the blind superiority of his peers, he could still feel the centuries of ingrained arrogance coiling in his gut like a parasite. To speak the truth aloud, to admit it—humans were not lesser beings—it left him feeling as if he were betraying his own blood.

Yet, even so, to him it was an achievement worth clinging to. A small rebellion against the indoctrination of his birth.

Kainal, however, was not so easily impressed. He tilted his head lazily, resting his chin on his palm, his long fingers tapping against his cheek as his gaze cut into Naime. His smile widened, sharp and gleeful. "I assume, then, that you have neither found a way to contact these humans… nor, more dully, have you discovered any reason they would ever help you. After all…"

He leaned in closer, his words dripping with venom. "Without mutual benefit, not a single soul would lift a finger to aid another. Why would the humans act out of some misplaced sympathy for our plight? Do you really believe they would see the cruelty of Empress Wannre and suddenly feel compelled to save us? Tell me, Naime, have I struck another mark?"

The words cut like a blade.

Naime's throat tightened, and instinctively his gaze faltered, sliding away from Kainal's piercing eyes. He wasn't afraid of the man himself, Kainal was sly, cruel, but not terrifying. No, what struck Naime was the undeniable truth woven into his words.

Because Kainal was right. He had no plan. No method. No foundation. All he had were lofty ambitions dressed as strategies, a pile of hopes and dreams tied together with string and crowned with theory. He was playing at rebellion with nothing but hot air, and Kainal's eyes—sharp, dissecting—stabbed into that truth like a knife twisted in an open wound.

Naime's smirk cracked, just slightly.

"Hah…"

The soft exhale broke from Kainal, slow and deliberate. He leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxing once more into predatory ease.

Lifting the porcelain cup, he swirled the crimson liquid, savoring the scent before taking another slow sip. His lips lingered at the rim, eyes locked on Naime as though savoring the moment itself.

When he finally set the cup down with a soft clink, his smile returned, wider, darker.

"I do have a proposition," he murmured, his tone syrupy and dangerous. "Though I am not certain whether you will be pleased by it… or revolted. It is not a scheme that every man can stomach. In truth…" His grin sharpened into something wolfish. "…it is something not everyone survives."

His words, though dangerous, carried a sharp weight that should have made Naime uneasy. Yet rather than shrink from them, Naime's lips curled into a grin. His face brightened as if Kainal had just handed him a treasure.

"What is it?" Naime asked eagerly, leaning forward with poorly masked anticipation. "With the way you're smiling, I suppose it's either something truly ingenious or something utterly presumptuous. And truth be told, I'm fine with either." His tone carried both sarcasm and genuine hunger, like a gambler willing to throw his last coin just to see the dice roll.

"Haha!" Kainal's laughter rang, sharp and amused, his teeth flashing briefly as he nodded. "Good. Then I won't bother with frills. I'll keep my words sharp, clean, and straight. No wasted time."

Naime gave a curt nod in return, gesturing for him to continue, his eyes gleaming with the same restless energy as a predator circling new prey.

Once Kainal was certain he had Naime's attention, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a steadier tone. "I'm sure you noticed the human who stood beside Empress Wannre earlier."

Naime snorted, waving a hand as if the question itself was ridiculous. "Who wouldn't have noticed? And if anyone truly did miss it, they need their head cracked open and checked by a healer. There's no cure for that kind of blindness."

"Fair point," Kainal conceded with a soft chuckle. "But here's where it gets interesting. If you really looked at him, if you watched him the way I did, you'd have seen something peculiar. The man wasn't pleased by the Empress's attention, nor was he saddened by it. He wore no arrogance, no reverence, no fear. Nothing. His face was… neutral. Entirely neutral."

Before Kainal's words had even finished echoing in the hall, Naime's eyes sharpened. A flicker of light passed through them, and slowly he turned his head to meet Kainal's unblinking gaze. His brows knit together, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"You're suggesting we use that human?" Naime's voice rose with disbelief, his tone laced with the beginnings of scorn. "To overthrow Empress Wannre? To turn someone she herself has chosen into a tool against her? Do you realize how idiotic that sounds?"

The words flew from his mouth in a rush, equal parts bafflement and accusation. Even Naime, for all his disdain of the Empress, couldn't wrap his head around the audacity of the suggestion.

That human, Arawn, was no ordinary pawn. He was handpicked by Wannre. Elevated. Bound to her inner circle. To even imagine him as a mutineer felt like grasping at smoke.

Naime's eyes narrowed further as suspicion crept in. "I cannot fathom a single reason why that would work. Unless, of course, you've lost your sanity."

Yet across from him, under the heat of his scrutiny, Kainal did not flinch. He did not squirm, nor did he temper his words. He merely smiled—slowly, slyly, like a serpent basking in the knowledge that its prey was already trapped in coils unseen.

"That is exactly why you fail to see the potential," Kainal murmured, his tone unhurried. "Like I said before, you might not like my idea. But still, I stand by it."

His eyes gleamed with a mixture of madness and certainty as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "That human's neutrality… is not nothing. It is everything. He was bestowed the greatest honor our Empress could grant, raised above us all, yet his expression remained untouched. No joy. No awe. No gratitude. No devotion. Nothing."

Kainal's smile widened, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "That, Naime, is not indifference, it is contempt dressed as calm. That human does not bat an eye at merfolk… nor at Empress Wannre herself. Which means, given the right push, he could very well become the blade that strikes her down."

The words slithered into the silence between them, heavy and venomous.

Naime's breath hitched. He wanted to scoff, to dismiss it as lunacy, yet the image stuck—Arawn standing tall beside the throne, unmoved, untamed.

It was a thought Naime wished he could reject outright. But the seed had already been planted, and seeds had a way of rooting themselves in the cracks of doubt.