Royal Reboot: Level up, Your Majesty!

Chapter 77: Mermaid (2)

Mermaid

2

“Congratulations, Dr. Le Bleu!”

“And a residency already secured. How impressive.”

“At the Royal Alchymia Hospital, no less. Under Madam Le Bleu herself.”

Melissa arched a brow, sipping from her champagne flute. The bubbly was decent, the company? Less so.

At twenty-one, she was one of the youngest in her cohort, and she could hear the subtext beneath their words: nepo baby, family connections, born lucky.

None of which were untrue. But none of which told the whole story, either. Not that it mattered. People decided what they wanted to believe long before they bothered to know her.

She turned toward the speaker, a fellow graduate with the kind of smile that was all teeth and performance.

“My mother prefers Dr. Le Bleu,” she corrected smoothly. “Even after being knighted at such a young age for saving the life of the Crown Prince of England.”

She paused, tilting her head slightly toward the prince himself, standing just a few feet away, swirling his own drink with the air of someone thoroughly entertained.

“Speaking of which,” she added, “You really didn’t have to attend my graduation, Your Highness.”

The prince, composed and regal, merely smiled. “I owe the Le Bleu family my life. And from what I’ve heard, you’re even more impressive than Dr. Irene Le Bleu herself.”

Melissa made a show of gasping. “More impressive? Your Highness, you’ll have her in tears.”

His laughter was genuine. The others’ smiles were not.

Melissa took another slow sip of champagne, hiding a smirk behind her glass. She hated alcohol, but the bitterness felt appropriate. She let them simmer in their quiet resentment for a moment longer before excusing herself.

She strolled through the courtyard where glasses clinked and the scent of overpriced canapés lingered in the warm evening air. Theatrics, all of it.

No matter how many accolades she collected, her last name would always precede her.

She let out a quiet breath, then stopped. More precisely, someone stopped her.

Lionel?

Her gaze traced over him. Gone were the wavy, tousled strands of red hair, now shaved down to a military cut. His frame wrapped in a tailored black suit that fit too well.

It wasn’t the change in hair or clothes that made her stomach twist.

It was the way he stood. 

Straight. 

Un—limping.

A bouquet of pastel roses rested in his hands.

Her throat went dry. “…How?”

Lionel smiled, but it wasn’t the boyish, lopsided grin she remembered. The warmth was gone. “You look beautiful… Doctor Melissa.”

She crossed her arms. “Should I be concerned that you somehow knew exactly when and where I was graduating? After vanishing for five years?” Her gaze dropped to his legs. "And who the hell healed you?"

His expression remained unchanged. "You did."

Melissa stepped back, like distance would somehow make sense of what he’d just said.

“You… lied?”

His gaze dropped. “I’m sorry, Mel.”

Her fists clenched. She should have been furious. And she was. But anger alone wasn’t enough to drown out the colder feeling coiling in her gut.

She looked at him properly now. Not the memory of him. Not the boy she used to know. This man was a stranger. Shadowed by something she couldn’t understand.

She had spent years thinking—

Melissa’s fist connected with his chest. “You son of a b—”

“I need your help.” Lionel exhaled, almost like he was tired.

She hit him again, harder. He didn’t budge. “Of course you do.”

“It’s… Natalia.” His voice was quieter now. “Please, Mel. You’re the only one who can save her.”

Melissa’s jaw tightened. “You could have led with that, and I would have—” Her voice lowered. “Details. Now.”

“Her power. It’s… unstable. I’m afraid that night will happen again,” Lionel rumbled. “Is there a way to suppress it?”

Melissa stilled. The pieces snapped together, one by one, fitting into an ugly picture. “You’ve been faking the limp all this time as some kind of lesson?”

He didn’t deny it.

“You, an otherwise functional adult, spent five entire years method-acting an injury just to guilt-trip a child into self-control?

His jaw tightened. “I—” He hesitated. Looked away. Then met her gaze again, his expression unreadable. “She needed time. To learn restraint.”

Melissa scoffed. “You really are an idiot.”

Lionel held her gaze. “I know.”

She shook her head, running a hand through her long, azure waves. “And now you want me to help you lie to her?”

“Just this once. I won’t ask again,” he said. “Just enough to stabilise her arcane heart. So her mind can catch up to her power. Your Gift… you can temper fire, can you?”

Of course she could. 

Of course she would.

But if she did this, she wasn’t just helping Natalia. She was enabling him.

“Fine,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

Lionel’s shoulders relaxed.

“But,” she said. “On one condition.”

Lionel tensed. “And that is?”

“She can’t go on like this. She needs to learn control.” Her gaze was sharpened. “Enroll her in St. Kevin’s.”

Lionel flinched. “No, I—” He stopped.

She crossed her arms. Waited.

“I’ll try,” Lionel sighed.

It wasn’t a promise. But it was something.

So she did what he asked.

When Natalia saw her again, crimson eyes gleaming with something between relief and hope, her voice was small, uncertain. “Will you stay, sis—I mean, Doctor—”

“Just Mel,” Melissa said softly. “Little sis.”

She hated how unfamiliar the words felt now. The vibrant little girl who used to curl into her lap was gone.

Because of a lie. 

And Melissa was now playing her part.

“Mel… will you be around?” Natalia asked.

Melissa closed her eyes. “I will… stay in Alchymia,” she said at last.

Technically true.

And then, just as before, she walked away.

She made excuses, ranging from her residency to setting up a clinic to the endless responsibilities. Told herself it was for the best. That she had done enough. That leaving was the right choice.

But enough shouldn’t have felt so much like running.

“I wish I could be you when I grow up.” Natalia had said it again with such sincerity, such painful hope.

But Melissa wasn’t someone to admire. She didn’t deserve it. Because when she looked at Natalia, fourteen years old and afraid, the “what if” question resurfaced once again.

What if she had asked the right questions? 

What if she had really cared instead of assuming?

Maybe she could have stopped Natalia before the fire happened.

But she hadn’t.

She had failed them.

And deep down, she knew… this wasn’t about being a doctor, or saving people, or doing what was right. It was about proving that she could.

It was about pride.

Now

Melissa stood at the edge of her bedroom, staring down at Natalia’s pale, unconscious figure on her bed.

Four years.

Four years since Melissa had last seen her.

And she looked… older.

Her face had sharpened, cheekbones more prominent, but there was something fragile about her. Something broken. She curled up in the too-large bed like she was trying to disappear.

Something twisted in Melissa’s gut—an ugly kind of anger.

Then, a stir. A twitch of fingers curling weakly against the sheets.

Melissa stepped forward. “Nat—”

“—Eydis…”

The name fell from Natalia’s lips like something sacred. Precious. The first person on her mind.

Melissa's outstretched hand stopped mid-air. An old habit from countless afternoons she spent smoothing back Natalia's hair… suddenly pointless.

But she wasn’t that person anymore, was she?

Eydis was already there.

Melissa watched, silent, as the brunette knelt by the bedside, her fingers tracing over Natalia’s forehead.

“You took your time.” Her teasing tone couldn't hide the genuine relief underneath.

For hours, Eydis had paced the room, amber eyes constantly checking Natalia's still form. Not impatient. Anxious.

And for a moment, Melissa's disdain for her softened.

Natalia leaned into the touch instinctively, murmuring something too soft for Melissa to catch. Then, without hesitation, she threw her arms around Eydis.

Tightly. Too tightly.

Melissa had seen Natalia do this before, burrowing into her side after thunderstorms. But this time, it wasn’t Melissa she turned to.

A small shift at the door caught Melissa’s attention.

Astra.

She had stepped back. It wasn’t out of politeness, but instinctively, like a retreat.

Oh.

Melissa exhaled slowly, gaze flicking toward the doorway. Astra met her eyes, unreadable as always. “Let me know if Natalia needs anything.”

Astra nodded silently.

Melissa turned to leave, but as she stepped past the threshold, Eydis’s voice followed her.

“Natalia, I—”

She closed the door behind her before she could hear the rest. Leaning against the wood, she took a deep breath. She had spent years running. Telling herself she didn’t need ties, didn’t need to be needed. But now, Natalia had Eydis.

And, grudgingly, Melissa admitted that Eydis was impressive. As was Astra. With them by Natalia’s side…

There was no need for her.

She had been the one who left first, hadn’t she? Maybe, in the end, it wasn’t Natalia who had outgrown her.

Maybe Melissa had made herself unnecessary.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. Connection? Accomplishment? She had chased the latter for so long, she had never questioned if it had been at the cost of the former.

Melissa had always existed in-between.

Between past and present. 

Between the underwater empire she'd built and the surface world she'd abandoned. 

She had never truly moved forward, only lingered in the spaces between what-ifs and almosts, between possibilities that had never been real.

The Lionel she had known was gone. They were still friends, in a way. But it wasn’t the same.

Would never be the same.

Melissa stepped onto the balcony, grabbing a bottle of alcopop from the table. The moon hung heavy and indifferent in the sky.

She downed half the bottle before the glass door slid open behind her.

Astra.

She moved to the railing without a word, eyes on the skyline. Melissa glanced over. Something flickered behind that usual frost—something quiet, something close to sadness.

Melissa grabbed another bottle from the table and held it out.

Astra, to her surprise, took it and drank.

“You’re drinking?” Melissa asked.

Astra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Seems like the night for it.”

Melissa smirked. “Hell of a day, huh?”

Astra didn’t answer immediately. She only glanced toward the closed bedroom door. “Yeah.”

Melissa had expected her to leave it at that. Astra was too efficient with her words.

But then, Astra smiled. It was small. Fleeting. But Melissa caught the surprise in it, the hint of something wistful, something melancholy.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Astra breathed, her voice nearly lost in the wind that stirred her silver hair. Then she frowned at her drink. “This is less alcohol and more liquid processed sugar.”

Melissa blinked. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. “And yet, you’re still drinking it.”

“Building immunity.”

“To what? Fun?”

Astra gave her a flat look but kept drinking.

Melissa chuckled. After a while, the warmth of the alcohol settled into her bones, loosening the tension in her shoulders. Loosening her words.

Her voice slurred slightly. “You ever think about… going back?”

Astra didn’t look at her. Her expression remained infuriatingly unaffected, despite matching Melissa drink for drink. Unfair.

“Back to where?”

Melissa shrugged. “Just… before.”

Silence stretched between them. Astra kept her gaze on the night sky, as if searching for something long gone.

“Physics doesn’t allow it,” she said finally.

Melissa snorted. “Seriously?”

“There’s no before,” Astra whispered. “Not for me.”

“I mean hypothetic—“

“—Just after.” Astra smiled, soft and almost weightless.

And then the words sank in, slowly. Melissa let out a breath, then a quiet, startled laugh. She held up her bottle.

“To after.”

Astra arched a brow but clinked their drinks together.

“To after.”

They drank in silence, watching the night. Melissa’s what-ifs still hovered in the air, but… somehow, they felt lighter now.

After.

Maybe that was all anyone could hope for—not to rewind time, not to undo what had already unraveled.

But to let it drift.

Until it was nothing more than seafoam dissolving into the deep.

Natalia’s words echoed in her mind.

Maybe she was a mermaid, after all. 

And maybe that was okay. 

Because that’s who she was. 

Not lost. 

Just…

After.