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

The way she phrased her sentence struck me as… off. It was only then that I noticed the obvious. I had been staring straight at her face this whole time and yet… nothing was happening.

'Wait… could it be? Is her irritation connected to this? Her so-called "facial ability" does it… not work on me?'

Before I could test that thought further, her grip around my throat tightened, cutting off my breath. The next moment, she hurled me like a ragdoll, this time into the opposite wall of the chamber. The impact rattled through my bones.

Cough! Cough!

I bent over, coughing twice into the water, my chest burning, before forcing myself upright again. Every joint ached, but there was nowhere to run—no door, no escape. The only option left was the one I least wanted: fight her head-on.

'Haahhh… so this is it. I really can't rely on anything else now. Guess it's time to gamble everything on this damned "nothing" element. C'mon, do your thing… show me some kind of miracle, nothingness.'

But before I could even attempt to draw on it—

She suddenly groaned, clutching her head with both hands. "Ahhhh! So irritating—so infuriating! Why don't my abilities work on you!?"

Her voice cracked through the chamber like a whip, echoing with genuine frustration.

I straightened slightly, shrugged like it was no big deal, and said flatly, "Like I said before—I don't know."

Her head snapped toward me, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. "I wasn't talking to you!"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm the only one here in the room." My tone was as casual as if we were discussing the weather.

Her glare didn't fade. In fact, it doubled down, her red eyes flashing with dangerous light. "You really have some nerves… you know what? I've decided. I'll spare you—"

Relief hit me, though I didn't let it show too much. Inside, I thought, 'This old hag really does throw tantrums like a child… and she is the one sitting on such a high seat of power? How in the hell is Aquis Vanlur still holding together under leadership like hers? Honestly, it's a miracle. A miracle, or pure dumb luck.'

She drifted closer, so close her breath ghosted warm against my neck, the faint scent of wine hanging on it. "You look like you're badmouthing me. If you've got guts—say it to my face. I dare you."

I met her eyes without flinching. "You're an old hag with tantrums. That's exactly what I was thinking."

I gave her what she asked for. And instead of appreciating my honesty like any "reasonable" person might…

Wham!

Her fist sank into my stomach like a piledriver.

"Arghhh!" I folded forward, coughing violently as water forced itself out of my lungs. I clutched my gut and glared up at her through clenched teeth.

"What the hell was that for!? You asked me to say it to your face! I did exactly what you wanted, and you still hit me!? Why are you beating me for being honest!?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically, as if I were some pest she couldn't be bothered with. "Your face irritates me. That's why."

I wanted—oh, I really wanted—to swing back, to plant my fist right in that smug, perfect face of hers. But my rational brain screamed otherwise: Don't do it. Bad idea. Worst idea.

So instead, I exhaled slowly, unclenched my fists, and let it go. For now.

I straightened up and asked with as much composure as I could muster, "So… what now? What do you expect me to do? Can I leave?"

She tilted her head, squinting at me like I was some curious specimen she couldn't quite figure out. Then she smirked. "How about… we sit and have a little chit-chat for a while. I hope you don't mind."

Her smile sharpened. "It's not like you have an option, of course but I do have manners, so I'll ask anyway."

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost stuck in the back of my skull. The irony of her calling herself "a mannered person" was absurd. But I kept my mouth shut this time and just muttered, "As you wish. Like you said, I don't exactly have a choice. Might as well… enjoy it."

And so, once again, we found ourselves seated at that long table. Only this time, there was no pretense. She lounged casually, sipping her crimson wine like a queen at her leisure. And me? I sat opposite her, straight-backed, glaring at her across the distance.

"So, tell me, what's it like being a land dweller? Who is your king or queen? Which race rules over you?" Her tone was casual, as she swirled her glass of wine.

I leaned back in my seat, leisurely. "It's not much different from being a merfolk, I suppose. We live, we struggle, we survive. As for rulers—there are five continents above the sea. Alaris, Mythria, the Eastern Continent, the Western Dominion, and the Northern Republic. Each has their own kings and queens who govern them."

She lifted the glass delicately to her lips, savoring a slow sip. "Hmm."

I continued, my tone steady, though I watched her every movement carefully. "But if you're asking about a leader who represents the land as a whole, that would be Alaris. King Fyudor Alaris rules there, and the other continents largely acknowledge his authority. That said…" I hesitated before leaning forward slightly, "the entire land is under attack by Rift creatures. They—"

She cut me off with a cold, smooth voice, finishing my sentence as if she'd read the thought before I even spoke it. "They are creatures from another world. Another dimension entirely. Spawns of Vorr'Kael—a being cloaked by a veil so absolute no consciousness can pierce it. A being whose strength cannot be measured, whose will cannot be reasoned with. Whether it is even an attack in its eyes… is unknown."

My breath caught, and my gaze sharpened. "How are you so certain of this?"

Her shoulders rolled in a careless shrug. "Because his spawns dwell in the ocean as well. The stronger ones… I cannot pry into. But the weaker?"

She gave a faint smile, tapping her temple with one long nail. "They are easily read. Their thoughts, their memories, their instincts. From them, I have gathered fragments of their world, their endless hunger, their purpose."

For the first time, the true weight of her power began to take root in my mind. Not simply raw strength, not merely dominion over mana or body—but knowledge.

Insight.

She was nearly omniscient, a being who had walked through uncountable ages, gleaning secrets from every creature foolish enough to cross her path… foolish enough to enter the oceans.

'She has lived millions of years… and in that span she has become something close to a god. And then I appeared—an anomaly, weaker than her, yet somehow slipping through her grasp. Of course she's enraged. Of course she's restless. If I were in her place, I would be too.'

The realization struck me: this truly was a paradise for her, a sandbox she had crafted into perfection. A stagnant utopia where every outcome was known before it unfolded. To her, the world was nothing but a game she had already completed.

And I appeared. A flaw in her perfect script.

"Huh?" Her voice yanked me back. She gestured with her wineglass toward me, lips curling in distaste. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Like you're… studying me." She sneered, her disgust bleeding through. "As if I were some book for you to dissect. It's irritating and infuriating, Stop it."

I tilted my head slightly, trying to understand, but in the end I simply looked away, letting her irritation hang in the silence.

A minute passed. I tapped my chin, then broke the silence with a question of my own. "Miss Wannre, if you don't mind… would you tell me more about these Rift abominations?"

Her answer came with a shake of her head and a lazy, mocking smile. "No. I'm not here to inform you, little land creature. You are here for my entertainment. Not the other way around. If you want answers, then grovel. Crawl to me, beg me, plead like the insect you are… and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

I felt the subtle edge of a trap hidden beneath her words. She wouldn't give such a simple condition so carelessly. There had to be something deeper.

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to flinch. "No. I won't do that. I cannot trust you."

Her brow arched, her smile widening with cruel amusement. "Oh? Is that so? Can't trust me? Or perhaps… it's shame. Perhaps your pride won't let you lower yourself. Just admit it—you're choking on your own dignity."

I shook my head slowly, meeting her gaze without wavering. "Why would shame matter to me? Do you think I care about such things? I seek truth—about the Rift, about the world… also about the blessings. If groveling was the only way to obtain that knowledge, then I would do it. Without hesitation."

For a fleeting instant, her composure cracked. Her pupils dilated, her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. Then, just as quickly, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.