Tail’s Curse – Chapter 11

Author: Nikss

If she would just drop dead in this room right now, I might even shed a tear.

But at Cordelia’s exhausted reaction, Dorea faltered, then suddenly flared up in anger, striding forward with a growl.

“What’s with the high-and-mighty act now? Have you lost your damn mind?”

“An act, you say?”

“Your tone! That look! The way you stare at me like I’m trash! All of it! From your face to the way you look at me—everything about you treats me like I’m worthless! You think I don’t know? That’s exactly why you always get what’s coming to you!”

Dorea’s outburst was startlingly similar to the words of every member of this household.

As a child, Cordelia used to wonder if she was truly at fault, carefully censoring her every action in hopes that they might love her.

But they only mocked and belittled her even more.

Humiliation became a habit, clinging to her skin. Lord Devillier was right. Misery spreads—unknowingly, inevitably.

No, to be precise—misery is learned.

‘Hah.’ A sigh escaped her. When Cordelia began to laugh, Dorea’s eyes widened in shock.

‘Has she gone mad?’ her expression seemed to say, ‘I heard she’s terminally ill, but this—’

“You just hate me, Dorea.”

“What?”

“If that’s the truth, then I should never have been born. But my father seduced my mother into marriage, and I was born. And then you and my aunt came into this house. No one called for you. No one. If you hated it so much, why did you come?”

Every word and action of theirs was a contradiction.

They trampled on her to feel superior, yet outside these walls, they flaunted their family name and Cordelia—now ruined under their feet—to feed their pride.

They gnawed at the fading legacy, then grew ravenous to sell it off for profit.

She hated them—as much as she hated herself, no, even more. Disgusting, despicable creatures.

Her aunt called the Devilliers hypocrites, but the real hypocrites, the true vulgar monsters, were right here.

At least the Devilliers felt some guilt for their pretenses.

For the first time in her life, a spark of defiance lit up her dulled eyes. Staring straight at Dorea with bruised, swollen eyes, Cordelia watched as the other woman nearly flinched and stepped back.

They say a person changes when they receive their death sentence.

The eyes that had always seemed weak and lifeless now flickered with a sharp, icy glint—like the gaze of a pale, ethereal creature rising slowly from the depths of the midnight sea.

Dorea flinched at the inhuman glimmer in them, then bit her lip and spat out venomously.

“Stop acting so high and mighty! You knew you were terminally ill, didn’t you? You’ve been lying all this time. Furthermore, you faked it just to get out of this house!”

The pouch Dorea threw hit Cordelia’s forehead before falling to the ground.

Cordelia realized it was the medicine pouch she had desperately been searching for. If she had taken it when the attack came, would she have avoided the episode?

There was no way to know. She hadn’t been able to take the medicine when she needed it.

“You were the one who bumped into me and dropped it. So that’s what was in it?”

“…Huh?”

“What?”

“When did you pick this up?”

Dorea snorted.

A memory flashed through Cordelia’s mind—Dorea lingering restlessly by the carriage earlier, as if she had something to say.

“Would missing something like this really be a big deal? It’s not like you’d get disowned for bad makeup. Who knew you’d be sneaky enough to carry medicine around?”

The moment she saw that face twisted with pure malice and pettiness, a high-pitched ringing filled Cordelia’s ears.

By the time she came to her senses, Dorea was already on the floor, screaming, blood streaming from her forehead.

‘Huh?’

Dazed, Cordelia rubbed her eyes—then startled at the sight of the bloodstained locket clutched in her hand.

What is this? What happened?

Hesitantly, she stepped closer, only for Dorea to shriek and point at her.

“You crazy bitch! Are you trying to kill me? You’re insane!”

“Huh?”

Me?

Cordelia looked back and forth between her bloodied hand and her hysterical cousin in confusion. She had always been docile, enduring their cruelty without daring to fight back. She could hardly believe it herself, still dazed, when her aunt stormed in at the commotion.

“What’s all this noise?”

“Mom! She tried to kill me!”

Instinctively, Cordelia hid the bloodied locket behind her back and blinked blankly, as she always did. Her aunt frowned, glaring at her sobbing daughter.

“What kind of nonsense is that? How could she kill you? She’s not even half your size.”

“She tried to stab me in the eye!”

Dorea let out a yelp, but seeing Cordelia’s swollen face—her head shaking timidly with frightened eyes—made it seem like nothing more than an act.

Of course, Dorea was hurt, but to anyone who knew the usual dynamic between the timid niece and her fierce aunt, the idea that Cordelia had struck her was absurd.

And besides, just half a day ago, this same girl had been coughing up blood before collapsing? The aunt snorted dismissively, sneered, and left the room.

“Stop making a racket and just sleep. You’ve already ruined my rest.”

“Mother!”

Dorea whipped her head around, glaring at Cordelia—who stood frozen—with eyes full of anger and a flicker of fear, then swiftly followed her mother out.

Left alone in the now-silent room, Cordelia stood dazed. She didn’t understand what had just happened.

Blankly, she looked down at her own small hands, still stained with traces of blood.

Moonlight streaming through the window gently caressed those hands—the same ones that had tried to harm someone.

The night wind billowed the sheer curtains, and in the old mirror hanging on the wall, a girl with an exhausted expression stared back. Her face, streaked with rain and moonlight, was deathly pale.

Slowly, she wiped away the blood and opened her locket. She gazed at the portrait of her fiancé, Jonathan, for a long moment before carefully removing it from the glass frame.

Beneath it lay another portrait—her mother’s profile.

A face she longed to carry with her always but avoided looking at too often, for fear of the tears and longing it would bring. She traced her fingers over her mother’s face before closing the locket.

Thud—

Jonathan’s portrait fell to the floor.

Just a day ago, she had treasured it like a protective talisman. Now, she felt nothing. Or rather—it felt useless.

Perhaps she had changed after her episode. Then again, wasn’t that natural? Even the priest had said people only truly change when death is near.

Ding… ding…

Somewhere, a bell seemed to chime.

🫧

“Little one, little one. Come to us, quickly.”

A voice—giggling, clear, and dreamlike—urged her again.

‘Come. We’re waiting for you. Come to us.’

Even as the hallucinations began anew, Cordelia didn’t cover her ears. Instinctively, she knew it would be pointless. Instead, she wanted to ask:

‘Who are you? What do you want from me? Where are you telling me to go?’

And then, they laughed.

“To the sea.”

“To our home.”

Sea.

The sea.

If she went to the sea… would something change?

Cordelia thought of the legend of the mermaid, the story of her ancestors, that her mother used to sing as a lullaby.

And then, like lightning, a scene flashed through her mind.

“They say the Sea Queen Calypso still waits for her daughter to this day. Even if she were called a traitor, it’s because she loves her. But the princess could never return to the sea to find her mother, not even until her death.”

“Why?”

“Because of shame. Misery. When you hurt someone you love, that’s what happens.”

Though she knew Cordelia was thinking of her father, she pretended not to notice.

“Knowing this, Calypso left one passage open to the sea kingdom. The center of the world and the last remaining land of mystery. On that island, coral reefs of all eight oceans, beautiful fish, and strange beasts roam freely. The pink sandy shores are strewn with mother-of-pearl, jewels, and pearls like pebbles. And the aurora hangs in the sky.”

It was a paradise-like place. When the daughter said she wanted to go there too, her mother smiled and shook her head.

“Not yet for you.”

“Why?”

“Every mermaid’s soul gathers on that island. There, they live an immortal life. You still have more of a human life to enjoy.”

To go to that island, first, you must receive an invitation.

Second, you must have a key.

A key?

At the girl’s question, her mother’s red lips curled upward.

“That’s a secret, Cordelia.”

That key is…

In her dazed state, as she gasped for breath, an unpleasant beastly noise echoed from somewhere.

A horrifying sensation, as if centipedes were crawling all over her body.