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

After our talk, we swam directly to the Main Bloc.

The first thing we did was join the gathering of the yellow-tailed merfolk—the outcasts, the oppressed—and listen in on the speech their community leader was about to deliver.

Strangely enough, amidst the tension and anticipation, no one noticed my presence. Not a single stare or whisper came my way. All eyes were fixed on the figure standing above them, floating gracefully in the center of the clearing.

He radiated presence.

His voice rang out clear and powerful, cutting through the heavy water like a blade. Even beneath the sea, where sounds softened and faded, his words echoed with unnatural force. A beautiful voice—confident, resonant… yet steeped in quiet despair.

"My fellow brethren, as you all know… the deity of the reds, blues, and greens has awakened. And without a doubt, their high and mighty selves will be rising too.

At first, they bullied us with subtlety. But now—now they will actively begin to suppress us."

Murmurs swept through the crowd like ripples across the sea floor, quickly building into an outpouring of pain.

"Yes! The reds, the blues, the greens—vile, all of them! That deity's resurrection will only make it worse!"

"Those Blues killed my husband just for hunting a little too close to their territory. As if we're supposed to know where theirs ends and ours begins!"

"They don't even want us to know. There are no boundaries or warning signs. They just wait… and punish. They killed my newborn for the same reason. He was playing, not trespassing!"

"They tore my house down just to build a temple. Said it was an auspicious space—that I should gift it to their deity. And when I cried, they said I was a stain on merfolk… that at least this way, my existence would have some worth."

The chorus of voices grew louder—raw hatred, seething sorrow, the echo of lifetimes lived in silence.

Beside me, both brothers had fallen silent.

Muirs clenched his jaw, fists shaking. But it was Luris who drew my attention. He had turned his head away, biting his lip so hard it began to bleed. His tail trembled with restrained emotion.

'That reaction… it's too much.'

He already knew about all this—this wasn't new to him. So why did he look like he was hearing it for the first time?

'Is he acting? Or is it guilt finally cracking through the surface?'

Either way, I didn't comment. I stayed silent and watched.

The yellow-tailed leader pressed a hand to his chest, his voice rising with conviction:

"My fellow brethren, if we do not fight for a nation of our own… our lives will become hell. We are already prey. They hunt us, they feed our children to their beasts. They destroy our homes in the name of holiness. And yet, we remain powerless. Why? Because we are the minority."

"So we must break free. We must forge a new home. One not tainted by their arrogance. But we know the truth—they will not let us go. If we try to leave without permission, they will hunt us like animals. They will slaughter us without mercy. And they will call it justice."

The crowd roared.

"Do they not already slaughter us without remorse?! Is there even a difference between us and the beasts they consume?! They don't eat us only because they fear we'd taint their so-called holy bodies!"

"Well said, brother! They think themselves divine. Eating us would probably upset their stomachs. Vile bastards!"

"But they won't let us leave! They know we want nothing to do with them—and still, they chain us here. Do they enjoy watching us suffer?! Are we their pets?! Their playthings?!"

A younger voice rose from the back—shaky, trembling with suppressed rage.

"Taint their holiness? Upset their stomachs? That's not it. They… they took my sister. Caged her for years, saying she needed to be reformed. I haven't seen her in so long… and every time I ask for her—every time—I only hear her screams."

'This discrimination can't be eradicated… the best course of action would be to give them a separate space.'

That was the only conclusion I could reach.

The hatred was too deep. The stories they told—homes burned for temples, children killed for stepping into the wrong zone, loved ones imprisoned and tortured—all of it spoke of something far beyond reform. Centuries of cruelty don't vanish just because a few want peace.

I turned to Luris.

"Sir Luris," I said calmly, "why exactly do you oppose giving the yellow-tailed merfolk their own nation?"

He met my gaze without blinking, his expression stiff with restraint.

"It's for their own good," he said. "They think they can survive on their own, but that's a delusion. Their hunting abilities are weak, they barely understand medicinal herbs, and frankly, their intelligence level is the lowest among the others."

I tilted my head at him.

"That's not a reason to deny them what they want," I replied evenly. "Even if they fail, even if they die—it's their right to choose that path. You can't force someone to live in suffering just because you believe they're incapable of surviving elsewhere."

Luris looked away, but Muirs met my eyes. His voice was soft, uncertain. "Yeah… you're right. But we've lived as one people for epochs. As a unified nation. The thought of splitting apart—it just feels wrong. Like killing a legacy."

"I understand what you're trying to say," I nodded. "I really do. But think about what that legacy has cost them. Think about what you're preserving at their expense. Your feelings, your attachment to unity—it's strangling them."

I gestured toward the direction of the protest.

"They're watching their homes be torn apart, their children slaughtered, their homes taken, and they're expected to hold hands with those who hurt them—just because of an old ideal? They're not thinking about unity, Luris. They're thinking about survival."

Luris clenched his fists.

"I know," he muttered. "But… if we change their minds—if we give them hope, if we show them a future where equality is real—maybe they won't need to separate. Maybe they'll stay. Don't you think that's possible?"

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head.

"The issue isn't whether they want equality," I said. "It's that they've already asked for it—begged for it—for thousands of years. And what did they get? Nothing. Your community is the one that needs convincing. If you can't control the ones who hurt them… then nothing you say matters."

My words hung in the water between us, heavy and undeniable.

"The problem isn't the yellow-tailed wanting freedom," I continued. "It's that the rest of your nation gives them no reason to stay."