The silence in the Prince's chamber was heavy, but it wasn't the silence of the deep ocean anymore. It was the stunned silence of two people who had just found a lifeboat in the middle of a hurricane.
"The only reason you would know that distinction," Caspian said, his voice losing its melodic, royal cadence and sounding startlingly human, "is if you are a transmigrator. From Earth."
"And the only reason a Merman King would correct me about Manhattan Chowder," Primrose countered, her hands trembling, "is if he isn't really a fish."
They stared at each other. The bioluminescent light of the room seemed to fade, leaving only the two souls from another world floating in the dark.
"Seoul," Primrose whispered, testing the waters. "2025."
Caspian closed his eyes, a look of profound pain and relief washing over his features. "Gangnam District. 2025. I was an architect."
