Merlin.
My favorite Merlin.
The Merlin who smiles.
The soft, squishy Merlin.
The silly Merlin.
The pure Merlin.
The adorably clumsy Merlin.
The Merlin who became even cuter after turning into a girl.
What surprised me at first was—
After becoming Merlinlia, she had remarkably strong wariness toward men and was extremely sensitive to gazes.
The moment even the slightest hint of ill intent in someone’s stare landed on her, Merlin’s body would tremble.
She wouldn’t shout or glare back in anger. She would just silently—almost meekly—put distance between them, shrinking deeper into the shadows.
Was it that becoming a girl softened her personality overall? Or had she simply never been exposed to gazes laced with desire before?
When a male student greeted her, she appeared polite on the surface, but she was actually full of caution—leaving not even the tiniest opening for anyone to get closer. If the other person took one step forward, she would retreat two steps back.
Was it because she had once been a boy and therefore knew exactly what they were thinking?
In contrast, she developed absolutely no defenses against girls. In the academy corridors, I often saw female students from her department engaging in intimate contact with her—pressing their cheeks against hers, linking arms with her.
Merlinlia always wore an expression like “I really can’t do anything with you all,” brows slightly furrowed in reluctance. Yet in the end, she would quietly lower her eyelids and docilely accept it all.
In truth, if Merlin truly disliked it, she would definitely have pushed them away.
Whenever the girls held her small hand or hugged her, she looked so soft and pliable—like a little piece of rubber, or a cat that had been stroked until its fur lay perfectly smooth.
At first I thought she might have some hidden lewd thoughts, but when interacting with the girls, her actions were truly just those of a small animal—innocent and pure.
Jealousy struck like a venomous snake, sinking its fangs deep into my heart.
I want to hug her too.
So unwilling. So jealous. Jealous enough to go mad.
Those random wild bees and butterflies swarming around her every day, touching Merlin in ways I had never even touched her.
And she herself—after all, she’s a princess. How improper is it to let girls hug and squeeze and fondle her all day long?
But… at the time, I felt I couldn’t soften. I couldn’t see her.
I had already realized it was all a misunderstanding.
Because I could tell at a glance whether Merlin was lying or not.
It wasn’t any particular telltale gesture—it was her overall expression. Even after becoming a girl, that never changed.
When Merlin spoke, her entire face would stiffen—not just one feature… it was the whole set of subtle details, perhaps.
Anyway, I could just tell.
I had double-checked it many times: before being adopted by Professor Ophelia, she had truly never left Taran.
From that moment on, I began to sense something was off—there was a discrepancy in our perceptions.
I wasn’t that easy to fool anymore.
But back then, the situation wasn’t one where we could calmly sit and talk. At the very least, I wanted to wait until the mudslide passed, so the two of us could have a proper conversation.
But it was already too late. All my fault.
Yes… at first, I believed Merlin had betrayed me.
I still remember the night I received her first letter. I sat on the ground under faint moonlight, trembling with excitement as I read it.
I wrote a reply so long it filled every inch of the page. I didn’t have much money, so I bought the cheapest stationery and crammed it full of my feelings, completely ignoring any proper letter format.
Even after filling every corner, I still hadn’t finished expressing everything.
What I saw along the road, how much I missed her, how hard the journey was, how desperately I wanted to go back.
I waited eagerly for her reply. On the battlefield filled with gunpowder and blood, the only thing that kept me going every day was imagining what I would write back to Merlin.
But just as Merlin said, every letter she sent me vanished without a trace. The money I sent her also disappeared.
I grew uneasy.
One or two months would have been fine, but half a year passed with no reply at all.
Still, I kept sending money—hoping she could live better, and hoping she would write back.
Even just a “thank you” would have been enough.
It was me… I didn’t believe in Merlin back then.
Since Merlin said with her own mouth that she had never been to the capital before being adopted, then she hadn’t been.
Because I’ve decided—from now on, I will believe in Merlin unconditionally. If she says east, I will never go west.
Heh… at this point.
As the years passed and I grew older, I stopped being so easily deceived.
Since Merlin personally said she had never been to the imperial capital, whatever magic or trickery was involved doesn’t matter anymore.
Is something seen with your own eyes necessarily true?
Knowing it was fake is enough.
Knowing that Merlin did write to me is enough.
Knowing that Merlin never betrayed me is enough.
The letters and that fake Merlin in the capital—someone must have interfered.
It was such a shallow trick, yet I failed to see through it.
…If I had truly believed in Merlin,
I would have investigated whether the letters encountered some accident in transit.
I would have told myself, the moment I saw that illusion, that Merlin could never do such a thing.
It was me who didn’t believe in Merlin, yet I acted like the victim and hurt her.
Merlin… my Merlin… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.
Mashina remembered that night—the words she had said to Merlin.
If the roles were reversed—if she had heard Merlin say those things to her—how heartbroken would she have been?
Merlin… I’m sorry… I’m sorry.
I was truly so stupid back then, so easily provoked by others, believing what I “saw with my own eyes” in the capital.
And yes… in the end I wrote you a letter, inviting you to come to the capital to celebrate together, then return home together.
But… thinking about it now, it was so suspicious.
I was just too afraid of being hurt. Too terrified of being betrayed by Merlin.
After seeing that lie, I started avoiding everything, while rage rose inside me…
You actually betrayed me?
Rather than be hurt by Merlin, I chose to hurt Merlin first.
So before the celebration even ended, I rushed back to the slums. My original plan was to wait at your house like a hunter lying in ambush—squatting at your door, watching you hurry back from the capital in a panic when you saw me already there waiting.
Because I was confident I could return faster than you.
Right… doesn’t that contradict everything?
It was me who didn’t believe in Merlin from the start. I was too afraid of getting hurt… I didn’t want to hear you say the words of parting with my own ears.
That’s why I said those things back then.
I was afraid of hearing Merlin suggest ending it herself. Afraid of hearing her happily talk about other women. Afraid that time and distance had already driven us apart.
Since we were going to separate anyway, I decided to at least keep some dignity.
It wasn’t Merlin abandoning Mashina—it was Mashina abandoning Merlin.
So I turned all that fear into a weapon to retaliate against Merlin.
I… really am scum… to have hurt Merlin, who loved me so much, like that.