The night deepened.
Beyond the academy dormitories.
Beyond the city lights.
Beyond the harbor where ships rested beneath moonlight.
The ocean remained awake.
Endless.
Dark.
Ancient.
Inside his dormitory room.
Kel sat before a desk covered with reports.
Candles flickered softly.
The shadows of scattered papers stretched across the walls.
Dozens of rumors.
Dozens of testimonies.
Dozens of contradictions.
And somewhere among them—
The truth.
The silver-haired youth leaned back in his chair.
His fingers tapped slowly against the wooden surface.
Inside his mind.
Seiren floated above the mountain of imaginary notes she had organized throughout the day.
The Guardian crossed her arms.
"I still don't understand."
Kel glanced toward the window.
"What part?"
"Your story."
A pause.
"It is tragic."
Another pause.
"Very tragic."
The Guardian frowned.
"But it isn't a monster legend."
Silence lingered.
The waves outside crashed against distant cliffs.
The sea breeze entered through the slightly open window.
Seiren continued.
"A husband betrays his wife."
"A younger sister betrays her elder sister."
"A fisherman loses everything."
"The elder sister dies grieving."
The Guardian shook her head.
"I can see the tragedy."
"I can see the heartbreak."
"I can even see why people would remember it."
Then her blue eyes narrowed.
"But I don't see monsters."
"I don't see Leviathans."
"I don't see cursed creatures."
"And I certainly don't see a fisherman transforming into a monster."
Kel remained silent.
Then slowly reached toward a particular report.
One among dozens.
One most investigators would have discarded immediately.
Because it sounded ridiculous.
The silver-haired youth lifted it.
Then pointed toward a paragraph.
Seiren looked.
Her expression changed.
Slowly.
Then completely.
"...Oh."
Kel nodded.
"Exactly."
The Guardian read the passage again.
The rumor claimed:
The elder daughter had secretly practiced dark arts.
Not ordinary magic.
Forbidden rituals.
Forbidden sacrifices.
Sea-related rituals.
Ancient rites.
And according to the rumor—
Rare sea creatures had disappeared around the manor for years.
Some said she purchased them.
Some said servants gathered them.
Some said fishermen sold them to her secretly.
And some stories went even further.
Claiming she specifically collected monster cores.
The magical organs found within powerful sea creatures.
Seiren stared at the report.
Then at Kel.
Then back at the report.
"Now this..."
A pause.
"This is convincing."
Kel nodded.
Finally.
A connection.
Not proof.
But a connection.
The Guardian continued thinking.
"But wait."
"Didn't she die grieving?"
The room fell silent.
Kel stared toward the ocean.
The moon reflected upon distant waters.
Then he answered quietly.
"Perhaps."
A pause.
"Or perhaps not."
Seiren blinked.
The Guardian immediately sat upright.
Because that answer carried meaning.
Dangerous meaning.
"Explain."
Kel folded his hands.
His expression became thoughtful.
The same expression he wore when solving puzzles.
"Think carefully."
A pause.
"What do we actually know?"
The Guardian immediately answered.
"Very little."
"Correct."
The silver-haired youth nodded.
"We know there was tragedy."
"We know rumors survived."
"We know the manor existed."
"We know the sisters existed."
"We know somebody rewrote the story."
A pause.
"We know almost nothing else."
Seiren frowned.
Because he was right.
Everything beyond that was speculation.
The silver-haired youth continued.
"If the dark arts rumor is true."
"The situation changes."
The Guardian listened carefully.
Kel rose from his chair.
Then slowly walked toward the window.
The moonlight illuminated his silver hair.
His golden eyes reflected the distant sea.
"If she practiced dark magic."
"Then human transformation becomes possible."
Silence.
The room seemed colder.
The possibility itself carried weight.
Because transformation magic existed.
Corruption existed.
Forbidden rituals existed.
Ancient mutations existed.
The world contained countless horrors.
Some natural.
Some artificial.
Some created by humans themselves.
Seiren slowly understood.
Then spoke quietly.
"You're suggesting the monster legend wasn't entirely fabricated."
"Possibly."
A pause.
"Only distorted."
The Guardian fell silent.
That possibility was far more dangerous.
Because completely false stories were easy.
Easy to dismiss.
Easy to ignore.
But partially true stories?
Those were dangerous.
Those survived.
Those evolved.
Those became legends.
Kel continued.
"What if the elder sister didn't die immediately?"
The question lingered.
Neither spoke.
The Guardian considered it carefully.
Then another thought emerged.
A darker thought.
"What if grief pushed her further into dark magic?"
Kel looked back.
A faint smile appeared.
Not happy.
Just acknowledging.
"Exactly."
The room became silent once more.
The pieces slowly rearranged themselves.
Not into certainty.
But into possibility.
A noblewoman.
Heartbroken.
Abandoned.
Betrayed by the two people she loved most.
Already involved in forbidden rituals.
Already experimenting with dangerous powers.
Already isolated.
Already unstable.
The ingredients existed.
Every single ingredient.
Enough for disaster.
Enough for obsession.
Enough for transformation.
Inside his mind.
Seiren spoke quietly.
"Humans really are terrifying."
Kel nodded.
"They often become monsters before transformation begins."
The Guardian stared.
Then sighed.
Because she couldn't argue.
Not after everything she had witnessed.
The silver-haired youth returned to the desk.
Then spread several reports beside one another.
Patterns.
Always patterns.
The key to every mystery.
One report mentioned dark rituals.
Another mentioned strange lights near the manor.
Another mentioned disappearances of sea creatures.
Another described fishermen avoiding certain waters.
Another described whispers of curses.
Individually.
Meaningless.
Together.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Inside his mind.
Seiren suddenly spoke.
"Kel."
"Hm?"
The Guardian looked unusually serious.
"Suppose you're right."
"Suppose this noblewoman became a monster."
"Suppose the legend originated from reality."
A pause.
"Then why rewrite it?"
The room fell silent.
Because that question remained.
Always remained.
The biggest question.
The most important question.
Why hide the truth?
Why transform tragedy into myth?
Why bury facts beneath centuries of rumors?
The silver-haired youth looked toward the ocean once more.
Then spoke softly.
"Because somebody wanted people to remember the monster."
A pause.
"But forget the reason it was created."
The Guardian's eyes widened.
Silence filled the room.
The possibility felt disturbingly reasonable.
And if that possibility was true—
Then somewhere.
Beneath the waves.
Beneath the myths.
Beneath centuries of lies.
A real monster might still exist.
Not a creature born from darkness.
Not a beast born from curses.
But something far worse.
A monster born from grief.
And those kinds of monsters...
Never disappeared easily.