The rain falls steadily as I sit on the rocky shore, my diving helmet beside me. The ocean stretches out before me, vast and gray under the overcast sky, but I don't see it. My fingers trace the familiar edges of the rusted metal carousel in my lap—the one I gave to that Melusine so long ago, the one meant for the Hydro Dragon.

A shadow falls over me, and I nearly drop the carousel in surprise. When I look up, my breath catches in my throat.

It's him again. The Chief Justice. Monsieur Neuvillette stands a few feet away, his elegant blue coat somehow untouched by the rain, his golden eyes regarding me with that same unreadable expression he wore the last time we met.

I immediately stand, clutching the carousel to my chest, my face burning with embarrassment. What must he think of me, sitting alone in the rain like this?

"Hello, little one," he says, his voice deep and calm like the ocean depths I know so well. He takes a slow, deliberate step toward me, his cane tapping gently on the wet stone.

I can't think of what to say. My throat feels tight, and I stare at the ground, at the way the rainwater collects in small pools around his polished shoes. Somewhere in the distance, a Melusine laughs, but here, in this small space between us, the world feels unnaturally quiet.

"You come here often," he observes, not unkindly. It isn't a question.

I nod, still not looking up. The rain soaks through my hair, and I shiver slightly—not from cold, but from the unfamiliarity of this moment, of being seen so clearly by someone who represents everything I've been taught to fear.

He takes another step closer, and I can almost feel the weight of his gaze on me. "The ocean... it calls to you, does it not?"

His words catch me off guard, and I finally look up, meeting his eyes. There's something there—a kind of understanding I've never seen before in anyone at the House. Something that makes my chest ache, that makes me want to tell him everything.

"It's quiet," I hear myself say, the words escaping before I can stop them. "Underwater. Quieter than anywhere else."

His lips curve into the suggestion of a smile, barely there but unmistakable. "Yes," he says softly. "I understand that feeling perfectly."

And in that moment, as the rain continues to fall around us, I almost believe he does.