The afternoon was the “Dawn’s Children” members’ cultural education time.
The old butler had invited a former city hall clerk named François to serve as a literacy teacher, with Marianne assisting in ideological education.
Poor François was also a victim of circumstance. He had worked diligently at the grassroots level for years but was ruthlessly kicked out of the city hall to make room for a noble’s relative.
Allen once again marveled at the old butler’s vast network—he could find talent of all kinds!
Mr. François was proficient in literature and arithmetic, and his teaching was solid. Yet, he seemed to embody the stereotypical image of a rigid and stern scholar.
Many “Dawn’s Children” members found his cultural lessons sleep-inducing, especially the adolescent boys who were constantly distracted.
Only the girls, the elderly and weak members, and a few like Finn listened attentively, which gave Allen a headache.
A revolutionary force must strengthen its knowledge! Having strength without brains will never win.
Watching the disinterested youths, Allen suddenly had an inspiration—Isn’t this the age when kids love to hear stories? I’ll tell them stories!
So, Allen burst into the classroom. He first whispered a few words to Mr. François, suggesting some modern educational ideas, then took the stage himself to demonstrate.
“Everyone,” Allen’s gaze swept over the varied expressions below, his tone serious,
“What you need to strengthen is not just your bodies but, more importantly, your minds. An army without culture is a foolish army, and you have yet to realize the importance of knowledge.”
“But I don’t blame you entirely. Sitting through classes is boring,” he shifted tone to something gentler.
“So, how about this? I’ll tell you a story. From now on, whenever you make progress in your studies, I’ll tell you stories. Someday, I’ll write many storybooks, and when you learn to read, you can enjoy stories yourselves.”
“Today’s story is called ‘The Daughter of the Sea.’” Allen’s voice softened and became magnetic as he began to weave the tragic and beautiful fairy tale,
“Far out at sea, the water is so blue, like the most beautiful cornflower petals, and so clear, like the brightest glass. But it’s very deep—so deep no chain could reach the bottom… The people of the sea live down there…”
Allen’s storytelling skills were top-tier, worthy of a master storyteller.
He vividly described the strange underwater world: the Sea King, his mother, and the Six Mermaid Princesses, all of whom could only rise to the surface when they turned fifteen to see the human world.
The Youngest Mermaid Princess was full of infinite curiosity and longing for the outside.
He told of the young princess’s meeting with the Prince: on her fifteenth birthday, she surfaced and happened upon a grand boat holding a party for a handsome prince’s birthday.
She instantly fell in love. Then a storm came, the ship sank, and the prince was left unconscious in the water.
The young princess fought to save him, dragging him ashore, then quietly slipped away before anyone could arrive.
When the prince woke, he only vaguely remembered a mysterious woman saved him but had no idea she was the Little Mermaid.
The youthful romance captivated everyone. They were all immersed in this beautiful beginning.
However, the story soon took a sharp turn—
The young princess returned to the sea but could not forget the prince.
She longed to become human to be with him and gain an immortal soul (according to legend, mermaids lack souls and become foam after death).
So, she sought out the terrifying Witch of the Sea.
The witch could grant her human legs, but the price was cruel: every step she took felt like walking on blades.
The witch also cut out her tongue, taking away her beautiful voice.
The witch warned her: if she failed to make the prince love and marry her, she would break her heart on the morning after the prince married another, turning into foam upon the sea.
Despite the harsh conditions, the Little Mermaid agreed without hesitation.
But the life she found on land was full of hardship.
The prince was captivated by her beauty and graceful dancing and treated her well, but only as a “Lovely mute orphan girl” and close friend—not as a lover.
Because in his heart, he was fixated on the girl he imagined saved him on the shore (whom he mistakenly believed to be a Neighboring Princess).
At this point, the crowd’s hearts tightened. They deeply wished for the kind-hearted young princess to find happiness.
Allen looked at their expectant eyes, feeling a mischievous delight rising within.
Yes, yes, yes! This is exactly what I want!
Tragedy means shattering something beautiful right before everyone’s eyes!
As the villain, he derived a unique pleasure from this aesthetic of tragedy!
So, Allen gleefully continued to tell the tragic ending—
The prince was ordered to visit the neighboring country and discovered that the princess there was the very one he had seen on the shore (a coincidence).
Mistaking her as his savior, he joyfully decided to marry her.
The young princess’s heart broke.
On the wedding night, her sisters brought her a dagger from the Witch of the Sea in exchange for their beautiful long hair.
They told her: if she stabbed the prince’s heart with the dagger before sunrise and let his warm blood drip onto her legs, she could become a mermaid again, return to the sea, and live on.
At this moment, sobs began to ripple through the crowd, while many held their breath in tense silence.
In this era, fairy tales were mostly formulaic, always ending with the prince and princess living happily ever after.
Allen’s story, with its ahead-of-its-time NTR elements and tragic core, was a dangerously subversive influence on the youths!
Allen reached the conclusion—at dawn, the young princess stood outside the prince and bride’s cabin holding the dagger.
But seeing the peaceful, happy look on the prince’s face, she couldn’t bring herself to strike.
She chose to throw the dagger into the sea and then leapt in herself, her body turning into foam.
Of course, Allen omitted the original’s latter part where the young princess becomes the Sky Daughter and earns a soul through good deeds.
He planned to write that as a separate piece, using that happy ending to encourage the “Dawn’s Children” to learn literacy.
Allen’s abrupt, tragic ending plunged the entire classroom into heavy sorrow and silence.
The girls whispered sobbing, and even many of the boys’ eyes reddened.
Seeing the atmosphere turn unbearably somber, Allen froze for a moment.
Uh? Is it really that bad? I thought it was okay. Is the story that harsh?
Having been tempered by countless entertainment works as a modern person, Allen was long immune to tragedy.
He hadn’t yet realized how deeply devastating a tragic yet beautiful tale like “The Daughter of the Sea” could be to people of this era!
When beautiful dreams are completely shattered, the shock is immense.
Oh no, I might have dampened their motivation to learn!
Allen noticed Finn remained calm and contemplative throughout, so he called on him: “Finn, you seem unmoved by the sadness. What do you think of this story?”
Finn nodded and calmly stepped up, his eyes scanning the sorrowful comrades, then slowly spoke:
“Do you really think Chief Laval told just a prince-and-princess love tragedy? No! He’s using this story to awaken us—to abandon illusions and prepare for struggle!”
“Ah?!”
Not just everyone else, Allen himself was stunned.
Wait, how did you read that meaning from a tragic fairy tale?
This boy, who had crawled through the Bottom World and seen the world’s ugliness, began to express his thoughts with his unique perspective:
“That underwater kingdom is our gray world now—dark, oppressive, seen by those above as ‘outcasts’ or even ‘monsters.’ The Mermaid Princesses are us, born trapped in the Bottom World, looking up at that bright, prosperous, yet unreachable Upper World.”
He affirmed the Little Mermaid’s yearning: “What’s wrong with her longing for the human world? Like us, who doesn’t long for a life like the Lords’—no hunger or cold, dignified and respected? It’s not vanity; it’s the basic human desire for a better life!”
Then, Finn viewed the price the Little Mermaid paid—trading her voice for legs—as a brutal metaphor for the lower class trying to break through class barriers.
“That’s the cruelest part! The Witch of the Sea represents the lenders, the Thieves’ Guild heads who give us a little sweetness only to drain us dry, and corrupt officials!”
“She wants to become human, but must give up her most precious thing—her ‘voice.’ What does that mean? It means that to enter a world that isn’t ours, we must first **erase our ‘identity’ and ‘voice’!”
“We have to forget where we come from, change our accent and habits, keep silent about our old brothers and sisters, even be ashamed of our origins. We give up our ‘voice’ and get legs that make every step feel like walking on blades—a seemingly complete but actually painfully forced way of living.”
“The Little Mermaid’s every step is on blades, but she can’t speak. That’s so real! Even if some of us barely climb up, the discrimination, pressure, and inner turmoil we endure—who can we tell? The people of that world won’t understand, and our old fellows think we’ve betrayed them. We have to stay silent and swallow all the pain!”
Finn then analyzed the prince’s behavior—
“The prince can never recognize her, even mistaking someone else as his savior. Is that the prince’s fault? To me, it reveals the nature of the upper class: they live in their own world, arrogant and ignorant, never truly understanding those who rise from the bottom. Their love and charity are cheap, based on misunderstanding and self-satisfaction.”
“They won’t thank you for your sacrifice, only value the superficial and class-appropriate things, like another princess’s identity and the voice that can be heard.”
Finn’s voice suddenly grew passionate: “So, this ending is not a love tragedy but a bloody warning!”
“It tells us: trying to gain recognition and belonging through self-sacrifice, self-**censorship, and flattering the upper class will only lead to complete annihilation—the total dissolution of self-worth, turning to nothing!”
“The Little Mermaid turned into foam, and that world doesn’t even know she existed. This is what happens if we only want to ‘become them’ to change our fate!”
Finn raised his head sharply, his eyes no longer sad but burning with anger and awakening.
“The Chief told this story not to encourage dreaming! He’s using the cruelest way to warn us: the path the Little Mermaid took is a dead end! It’s a trap set by the old order represented by the Witch of the Sea!”
“The real way out isn’t for one of us to become ‘human’ and squeeze in, but to find a way to stir the entire sea, even change that bright but hypocritical world!”
“We don’t want legs walking on blades that belong to others. We want all the sea’s children to live with dignity, proudly and openly using our own tails and true identities under any sunlight!”
“That’s what the ‘Dawn’s Children’ must do! That’s the true sequel the Chief didn’t say outright!”
Finn’s earth-shattering interpretation wiped away the sorrow, replacing it with deep shock and contemplation.
Many rekindled a light in their eyes—a realization awakened to the extreme.
Mr. François looked at Finn in horror.
He had thought these people were just uneducated illiterates but never imagined this boy’s metaphorical insight was so profound and sharp!
True wisdom from the Bottom World was far deeper and more powerful than he expected.
Allen was equally stunned by Finn’s analysis.
He never imagined “The Daughter of the Sea” could be interpreted with such profound class struggle undertones!
This kid was a genius! An idea immediately formed in Allen’s mind: Finn would be the ideal preacher and interpreter of the “Dawn’s Children” ideology!
Allen was the first to applaud, soon joined by the thunderous clapping of the whole classroom!
He looked approvingly at Finn and everyone else: “I believe you’ve together created a better and more powerful ending for this story. And you will, through learning, create truly beautiful endings for yourselves!”
“So, I leave you with one last phrase: Study hard and improve every day! Master knowledge well, and don’t let the Little Mermaid’s tragedy repeat in any of us!”
Allen’s storytelling unexpectedly had a remarkable effect.
When Mr. François resumed teaching, he found everyone’s eyes had changed, now filled with a strong desire for knowledge and a firm refusal to accept fate.
Watching it all, Allen felt a heavy stone lift from his heart.
“Marianne,” he turned to the Head Maid beside him, teasing, “after hearing my story, what do you think? Do you find the Mermaid Princess sisters’ deep love and sacrifice for one another charming?”
This strangely specific focus left Marianne speechless as she snapped out of her heavy thoughts.
She reached out a finger and gently poked Allen’s waist, speaking in a sweet yet subtly dangerous tone: “My thought is that you are my Prince, and I am your Little Mermaid Princess. But if you betray me like that prince, I’ll carve my name on your heart with the dagger my sisters gave me~ and then make you into delicious sashimi to share with all my good sisters~”
“What kind of dark fairy tale is this?! You’re no longer a beautiful Mermaid Princess; you’re a Deep One! A spawn of Cthulhu!!!” Allen exclaimed dramatically.
At this moment, Allen had no idea he would one day become a world-renowned Fairy Tale Master, and that many of his stories, under interpretations by people like Finn, would be imbued with profound social metaphors and political meanings, becoming spiritual nourishment for the “Dawn’s Children” and beyond.
Of course, that was a story for another time.
In short, the “Dawn’s Children” education and training were progressing with an efficiency and depth beyond Allen’s expectations!