"Where did this little brat come from?" Darren frowned, annoyance edging his voice.
Something about the pale-skinned mermaid child set his nerves on edge. An eerie aura clung to her, and those sapphire eyes looked straight through him, as if his deepest secrets were laid bare. He hated it.
Seeing his expression, Neptune panicked and hurried forward. "Vice Admiral Darren, this is Shyarly, Fish-Man Island's renowned fortune-teller… Little Shyarly, don't stare at Vice Admiral Darren like that! He's our most honored guest."
Grinding his teeth, Neptune swam between them.
Shyarly? Darren blinked, then narrowed his eyes, studying the adorable child. It was hard to reconcile her with the cool, enigmatic seer he knew later—worlds apart. One a solemn little girl, the other an icy, mature beauty.
"You're a fortune-teller?" He sheathed his four swords, stepped closer, and crouched to her eye level.
Unexpectedly, there was no trace of childish timidity. She nodded with grave seriousness. "That's right."
She studied the Marine Vice Admiral before her, then said something that made his expression shift. "I can't see through you. Your destiny is strange—it doesn't seem to exist in this world's past."
The cryptic words left Neptune and the ministers baffled.
Darren's thoughts raced.
This brat… something's off.
She actually brushed my greatest secret?
'Doesn't exist in this world's past'… Others would miss it. Darren understood exactly.
She means time-traveler.
"Oh? What do you mean?" he asked, masking the jolt with a lazy smile.
Shyarly shook her head, a small frown knitting her pale brows as if wrestling with a riddle. Biting her finger, she murmured, "I don't know exactly. Only that you're very strange."
"I've never felt anything like this. Your destiny is hidden in thick mist; I can't see it clearly."
"Even that weird old man with the nose hairs grown into a beard… I could see something for him. I divined he would die soon, but before that he would sit on a king's throne and start a new era."
Neptune and the court blanched.
Minister Turtle went paper-white. "Th-that… Little Shyarly is just babbling, Vice Admiral Darren. Please don't take it seriously."
They'd only just soothed Darren's suspicions, and now the child threatened to set them ablaze again.
But the Vice Admiral seemed unfazed. He turned back to Shyarly with keen interest and a faint smile. "Anything else?"
She shook her head. "I can't see more. Fortune-telling isn't omnipotent… but," she tilted her head, blue eyes meeting his, "may I divine for you, Marine officer?"
"Absolutely not!" Neptune, Minister Turtle, and the others barked in unison before Darren could speak.
Are you insane?
They knew Shyarly's kind of prophecy too well: the breached gates of Fish-Man Island; the death of the great pirate Roger; the new era swallowing the world—always dire.
If she uttered some similar doom about this fearsome man and angered him, Fish-Man Island would pay the price.
Fortune-telling had always been a dangerous trade. You could swindle the weak, but one wrong word to a brute and you'd be cut in half before you finished your sentence.
Darren's cool glance silenced them instantly.
"What's wrong? Do you think a calamity awaits me?"
"Absolutely not!" Minister Turtle blurted, forcing a servile smile. "Impossible! Vice Admiral Darren's strength is unparalleled—no obstacle could threaten someone like you."
Darren ignored him and nodded to Shyarly. "All right. Go ahead."
In his past life, he'd been a staunch materialist; fortune-telling was nonsense. But after reincarnation, certainty had cracks. Harmless to hear her out.
A small smile lit Shyarly's face.
She produced a crystal ball with a hairline crack, set it reverently before her, placed a small hand on its surface, and closed her eyes.
Darren noticed it at once: a faint, indescribable aura seeping into the room—subtle, unplaceable, like pressure before a storm.
So it really does brush the mystical, he thought.
In this world, souls were real, palpable things.
The banquet hall sank into taut silence. Even Neptune's strained breathing sounded loud.
Suddenly—
Shyarly's face twisted. Her eyes snapped open.
Terror flooded her gaze. Her small frame shook, blood draining from her cheeks.
Crack!
The fracture spidered wide; crimson light suffused the sphere—and it burst into glittering shards.
"This… how is this possible?!"
A thin thread of blood slid from the corner of her mouth as she stared at Darren, recoiling in horror.
"What did you see?" he asked, frowning.
The composure was gone. She trembled like a startled rabbit, voice breaking.
"Y-you… that era… it was you…"
"Destiny… changed…"
"S-so it was you all along!"
"Y-you're dead…"
Before she could finish, blood gushed from her nose and mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the floor.
Darren: ???
"Did she just say I'm dead?" He turned to Neptune and the others with a warm, innocent smile.
Their faces ashen, Neptune and his crew dropped to their knees in unison.
To be continued...