QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 404: Pull away

Chapter 404:

Lorelei

It is warm.

I move closer into the warmth, curling toward it like a creature seeking shelter from the cold. The heat seeps into my skin, into my bones, into the parts of that have been frozen for years.

I drift back into dreamless sleep.

*

When I wake, I do not know where I am.

I look around. Wooden walls. Wooden ceiling. A small window that looks out onto open water. Human accommodations.

My heart races.

I sit up imdiately, my hands searching, reaching—

The egg.

I find it.

It rests on the chest of the human. She sits in front of a... picture? I watch as she adds color to the surface, bringing sothing to life with small, precise movents.

On so days, I would not hunt the ships. I would observe them instead, hidden beneath the waves, listening to the humans talk. I think... this must be... painting?

I have heard the word before. I have never seen it.

I look at the picture.

It is .

I move off the bed, stumbling slightly at walking, and standing, using my legs...I can’t rember the last ti I ever used them. I walk toward it, my bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

The painting has an odd sll. Sharp and strange, nothing like the sea. The human dips small brushes into tiny pots of colored liquid, then touches them to the surface. The colors blend. Shift. Beco sothing new.

I have never seen anything like it.

It is odd.

I feel weird.

I look at the painting. It must be . The rmaid has my tail, my hair. I know it is because of the scars on her arms—the sa pale lines that cross my own skin.

What is this?

I reach out my fingers.

I touch the painting.

A streak of blue sars beneath my hand.

"I am sorry." I pull my hand back. "I am sorry."

"It is okay." The human’s voice is soft. "See?"

She takes her brush. Touches the smudge. Transforms it.

The blue becos a reef. Deep and dark and alive, with corals and shadows and tiny fish swimming between the rocks.

I look at my fingers.

Blue paint clings to my skin.

I bring it to my tongue.

I scrunch my face.

It tastes horrible.

I scrunch my face, trying to rid my tongue of the foul taste. The human watches , her dark eyes soft. Then she reaches out.

She takes my hand.

She places it on her cheek.

I want to be angry. I want to pull away. I want to that I do not trust her, that she left alone for years and I have every right to hate her.

But the relief on her face—

It stops .

Her eyes close. Her breath shudders. Her cheek is warm beneath my palm, warr than the sea, warr than anything I have touched in years. She leans into my hand like she has been waiting for this mont for a very long ti.

How could I be angry?

When my touch does this to her?

I do not understand it. I do not understand her.

What I do understand is this familiarity. This feeling between us—this pull, this warmth, this rightness that I cannot explain. It is not a mory. It is not sothing I can see or touch or na.

But I can feel it.

And I can trust that.

She nuzzles into my palm. Her cheek presses against my hand. Her eyes close again, and for a mont, she looks almost peaceful.

Then I pull away.

As if scolded.

She opens her eyes. Her face falls,just slightly, just enough for to see.

Disappointed.

I look away.

***

Daphne

I want to reach toward her.

My hand hovers in the air between us. I can almost feel her skin again,I want to touch her cheek. I want to hold her face. I want to never let go.

But I would be pushing it.

She pulled away first.

So I place my hand down.

The mont stretches into an awkward silence. Luckily, the egg pulses in the little carrier on my chest, giving sothing to think about.

"So... uhh..." I trail off.

I do not know her na.

Not in this life.

"I am called Lorelei," she says.

"Lorelei." I test it on my tongue. It is soft and strange and beautiful. "It is a beautiful na."

She does not respond. Just watches with those blue eyes, waiting.

I clear my throat.

"I am—"

"Daphne." She says it before I can. "Daphne Han."

I look at her, confused.

She rembers?

This might be the first ti she has rembered my na.

"Is it not?" She asks cautiously. Her voice is small. Uncertain.

"It is." I say quietly.

She nods. As if she has passed so test she did not know she was taking.

"Daphne," she says again.

"Yes." I clear my throat. "So, about the egg."

I run my fingers across the shell.The surface is smooth, almost glowing, pulsing with a rhythm that matches my heartbeat.

"It has grown bigger," I say.

"Yes." She watches my hand on the shell. "Because you are around."

I look at her.

"Because I am around?"

"The egg needs both parents." She reaches out. Her fingers hover over the shell, not touching, just near.

As if coming to a decision, she places her hand over mine.

The egg glows.

Light spills through my fingers, warm and golden, the shell hums beneath my palm—not a sound, not exactly, but a feeling.

My heart races.

"Is this normal?" I ask.

"It is."

"Egg is strong." She looks at our hands, at the light between us. "Normally... should have died... years ago."

That piece of information destroys .

I look at our fingers. At the light spilling through them.

"I guess she takes her strength from you," I say.

Lorelei tilts her head.

"She?"

"The egg." I swallow. "I think it is a she."

"How do you know?"

"I do not." I pause. "I just... I just think the egg is a she."

She looks at . Those blue eyes, steady and unreadable.

"Why not... male?"

I shrug. "I do not know. I just think the egg is a she."

"And if not?"

I look at the egg. At the light pulsing beneath its surface. At the life waiting to erge.

"I will love it regardless," I say.

Though I do not know what the hell I am supposed to do with a son. I hope it’s a son.