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Far away from the castle of the ruling duchess, beyond the river-chiseled valley, where the ever-summer groves met the ocean tides, lay the town of the magic folks. Occupying the heart of the town was the merchant Gildon’s grand mansion, where banquets and parties were held day and night, esteemed guests from all over the dukedom flowing in and out like the multitude of streams nurturing the trees. With the guests poured in wealth and power, and everything one could ask for in life.
Occasionally, among the guests presented a young alchemist named Bertie. One was not mistaken to say he seemed somewhat out of place in Gildon’s mansion. He dressed, dined, and lived in good style but not luxury. He resided alone at the edge of the town in a cozy chalet with a beautiful herb garden, cared for by fairies with transparent wings.
Whispers passed in town about him, who was never seen to brew any potion more sophisticated than the common ones one could find in any alchemy shop, which he handed out to the poor without charging a single copper coin, just like how he shared food and clothes and lodging with ones in need. Many a time explosions were heard in his home and bellows of smoke were seen. An incompetent alchemist he was indeed, yet out of his pocket gold flowed endlessly like the river entering the sea, for he was one the of heirs of chrysopoeia, the most envied craft of transforming lead to gold.
It was widely known that not anyone could be taught the secret of chrysopoeia, which was not passed from progenitors to offspring but mentors to worthy apprentices. However, not many could say by what standard a child was deemed worthy of such a great privilege, less still could tell what had made the mentor of Bertie choose him, one of the least competent little brats out of many brilliant youngsters.
Most of the guests were drawn to Gildon’s establishment not by the exquisite food and the company of distinguished individuals but by the exotic experience of lying with a menagerie of magical creatures that Gildon had accumulated: tree and sea nymphs, satyrs, sylphs, elves, and more rarely heard by even the most traveled adventurers. There were males and females, and sexes beyond human comprehension. These creatures were dressed in fine clothes and ornamented with gold and gemstones. With the guests, they shared food, drink, and laughter, and later when the night fell, the bed and carnal pleasure.
Nonetheless, no matter how charming these creatures were, they usually failed to pique Bertie’s interest. An eccentric one he was, rarely seen to join the parties, and rarer seen to stay the night in Gildon’s mansion as if he was attracted by pure curiosity and disappointed by the gilded banality.
That was, of course, before he found the mysterious Jeeves—a new addition to Gildon’s mansion of pleasures.
What had drawn him toward Jeeves, Bertie could not tell with certainty. He couldn’t even tell what species the mysterious creature was—appearing in human form, there was a strange air around him, like a translucent halo of magic light, a whisper of bewitching chanting. He was nothing like Bertie had seen before—graceful, solemn, mesmerizing, the young alchemist couldn’t move his eyes from that elegant figure. He struggled for words to express himself as simple “beauty” failed to do Jeeves justice. It was something unknown to him.
Ocean. On the first tentative touching on the silky skin, that was what Jeeves reminded Bertie of. Holding the body in his arms, it felt as if he was covered by sheets of waves and surrounded by mountains of salty foams. Entering that body felt a diver breaking the glistening surface of the peaceful sea, in which he moved swiftly like a shark and playfully like a dolphin. The heavy breath sounded like a gale between sails. During their first night, Bertie was too timid to kiss those coral lips, but he imagined them to taste like oysters freshly out of shells.
He fell asleep in exhaustion with Jeeves in his arms. Memories of the ocean invaded his dreams. Drenched in sweat, he screamed to wakefulness.
“A nightmare, sir?”
“A memory relived. Of the ocean. Care to hear about it?”
He told the tale to the taciturn creature, who listened attentively in silence with merely sporadic nods. It was not much a tale as a common misadventure of the reckless youth: when he was sixteen years old, playing at the seashore with friends, the sudden rising of the tide carried them into the whirling water. Escaping drowning by attaching himself to an outcrop, he realized there were younger ones with weaker lungs and limps struggling for their lives. Without a second thought, he merged back into the brine. Having saved all he could, his body felt heavy as stone and limp like a rag. Nothing he could do for himself, he drifted deeper into darkness under the lashing of the sea. He thought that was the end of him, but opening his eyes, it was not the emerald meadows and flaming flowers of the Otherworld meeting his eyes, but his mentor’s cottage and his warm bed—He was pushed over the shoreline by a gray seal before found by a fisherman, at least that was what was relayed to him, something unheard of. Many were saved by merfolks, some by dolphins and sea nymphs; none, however, by a seal.
“Strange, isn’t it?”
Jeeves said nothing. In reply, he merely shook his head and sighed like a draft taking up high waves. It might have been his illusion, but Bertie fancied himself noticing ripples of sorrow in Jeeves’ dark blue eyes. “What is that disturbing your heart?” He asked, but there came no more words, but only hollow breaths.
The next day Bertie visited the mansion, Jeeves was with other guests. A popular one the newcomer was, explained Gildon, welcoming Bertie and, more importantly, his pouchful of gold, and offering him two gorgeous elves as a substitute, which Bertie declined.
Another visit, and a next, eventually, Bertie had Jeeves by his side again. This time, instead of taking him to bed presently, he led him to saunter under the moonlight in the rose garden. Immersed in the floral aroma, Bertie kissed him—the lips and tongue tasted more delicious than oysters and sweeter than licorice.
“I think I am in love with you, Jeeves,” said the young alchemist. “Do you love like us humans do? If you do, will you love me?”
“I do not know, sir. If I do, I cannot say if I will love a human. I cannot say if I could trust a human.”
“Why is that?” Eagerly, Bertie pressed Jeeves’ hands in his. “If only there is anything I could help! Tell me!”
“I am kept here against my will. The mansion is my prison. I live a comfortable life here, but I miss my home dearly.”
“Why don’t you go home, then? There is no binding spell cast on you, nor are you locked in the chain. You can walk out of the mansion any time you like, can’t you? I have seen others leaving the mansion and never come back.”
“It is not as simple as walking out of the mansion,” replied Jeeves, his sadness as colossal as an iceberg. “Gildon possesses the key to my freedom. Without it, I can never return home.”
Bertie’s eyes opened wide and his hands trembled like a sapling.
“It might be too much to ask; pray forget it if you deem it is, but I wonder if you could help me to regain my freedom.”
“Of course I will! What should I do?”
“Thank you, sir,” Jeeves said with a smile, the first one Bertie saw on his face. “I am a selkie. Gildon has my seal skin locked in his dungeon. Without it, I will never be able to go back to the ocean.”
Selkie was a novel existence in Bertie’s knowledge of magical creatures. He might have heard about such curious beings in his childhood, or in one of the taverns when he traveled with his mentor. It was a kind of the sea creatures, and beyond that, he knew none. He knew neither if they were friend or foe, nor if they were honest or trickery. Nevertheless, he nodded with all resolution in his heart.
“I will see what I can do for you, Jeeves.”
Thus Bertie found Gildon and demanded Jeeves’ freedom. Enraged, his face reddened like an apple in autumn.
“You told me all these creatures stay in your mansion willingly. But it turns out you are keeping Jeeves against his will!”
But Gildon disagreed, “He can leave whenever he chooses to. What I bought from another merchant and kept locked in my dungeon was his seal skin.”
“You know he needs it to return to the sea!”
“And you wish him to do so? Silly child.” Gildon shook his head. “How much do you know about selkies? None, I assume. Might be the first time you have seen one. Let me tell you, then, they never live among mankind for long; they linger at the shore in human forms for days and spend their life in the ocean as seals for ages. None will remain willingly on the dry land without someone withholding their seal skin. If you let this one go, he will never come back. You are fond of him, very much so that you began to pay your visit to my estate quite often as you never had before, are you not? Now, tell me, do you realize if I set him free, you’ll never see him again in your life?”
The words pierced his heart like a spear, yet Bertie did not waver.
“I would like to purchase his seal skin. I can give you two, no, three times the price you paid for him. Five, ten times if I must!”
“You have seen how he was adored by my distinguished guests. He will bring me great fortune. It is not too much to say he is worth the gold of his weight. Why don’t you bring just that much gold to exchange his freedom? You can make however much gold as you like, can’t you?”
There was no room to haggle. It was well known that the greed of Gildon knew no boundary. With a heavy heart, Bertie returned home.
“Heed me, my child,” sitting at his cauldron, watching the flame dancing and listening to the potion simmering, he recalled the words of his mentor when he was bestowed on the highest secret of alchemy, “You must understand that every ounce of gold made is a weight of imbalance added onto the scale of the universe. People crave gold, but what is truly valuable is the bread baked and the fabric woven. Making gold to purchase valuable goods and labor could be very dangerous. When it is done unchecked, it invites not prosperity but destitution. Thus, while the gods allowed the transformation from less valued metal to gold by worthy alchemists, they also decreed the touch of a greedy hand shall return gold thus made to what it once was. That’s why only one with a heart of gold could be entrusted with the knowledge of chrysopoeia. You are entitled to build yourself an enjoyable life with what you make, but if you let greed corrupt your soul, if you dispose of your heart of gold in exchange for gold in your treasure room, you will lose the blessing of the gods and shall never command the power of chrysopoeia again.”
Never an ambitious one who might use endless gold to buy powerful positions or luxury squanders, Bertie let these words etched in his mind, and always made just enough for what he needed for a comfortable life and generosity toward others. In his years of practice, the amount of gold Gildon demanded had never been an idea in his mind, let alone making it into reality. Nevertheless, it was the only way to free Jeeves. Over decades, countless thieves had attempted to break into Gildon’s dungeon to steal his treasures, but none had succeeded, not even the master among masters. There was no alternative but to pay the steep price Gildon demanded.
Was it greed to make thus much gold for a sea creature’s freedom? Bertie couldn’t tell. For the entire night, he prayed to the gods for an answer, but his prayers fell on deaf ears.
As the first beam of the sun shone through his window panes, he made up his mind. If he were to lose the power to gain wealth, then so be it. As long as the gods allowed what was necessary for freeing Jeeves, nothing else mattered.
For days and nights, he tolled at the cauldron. To his relief, every piece he harvested was pure gold, lustering gorgeously under the sun.
He loaded the gold into the wagon and drove it to Gildon’s mansion. The merchant grinned from ear to ear, eyes shining brighter than his newly gained wealth.
“I finally have enough gold to hold a gala for the duchess! She will be very pleased and make me a viscount, or maybe even an earl!”
Gildon brought out the seal skin and handed it to Bertie. It touched warm and sturdy, with a soft coat of the densest hair he had ever held.
Then there came Jeeves. Seeing the seal skin, the fog of sorrow dissipated in his eyes. He smiled, which warmed Bertie’s heart more than the crackling flame in the fireplace.
“You could keep him to yourself,” Gildon told Bertie before they parted ways. “I don’t see why you have to waste so much gold on him if you don’t want to make him yours, even though you could make gold as easy as a child’s play.”
To that, Bertie said nothing in response. He invited Jeeves onto the wagon and they drove down toward the seashore.
“Thank you, sir.” Jeeves said, “I knew you could help me. I am glad I didn’t misjudge you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I recognized you. You do not remember, but we met ten years ago. It was I who saved you from drowning that day. I saw you swimming into the current too strong for a human to save others despite that you could have stayed in safety. I believe a man like you would do anything to help one in need.”
“Gods bless! What a coincidence! Thank you for saving my life, Jeeves.”
“It might not be all a coincidence. I was warned by the seniors not knowing how many times humans are dangerous and we should never come close to them; growing up, my ears were filled with cautious tales of selkies being forced into marriage, servitude, or even slavery by humans who stole and hid their seal skins. But seeing you that day gave me hope that there are good ones living on the dry land. I spent many years among humans, meeting friendly ones and cruel ones alike. I realized they are just like us, not all are good or bad. One day, I entered a similar establishment as Gildon’s and was promised I could leave at any time. Life there was very much enjoyable, until one day when I decided to be on my way, I realized the treacherous man had stolen my seal skin.”
Looking at the skin in his hand, Bertie’s heart sank like an anchor into the icy bottom of the sea. Gildon’s words rang in his ears, and once again, pierced his heart like a spear, only deeper and more agonizing as the blue waves met the eyes at the horizon.
The idea of keeping Jeeves for himself flashed over his head like a shooting star flickering over the night sky, and there broke the dawn of enlightenment.
No, it was not greed to make the gold of a man’s weight for the freedom of Jeeves, but keeping him against his will was—it was worse avarice than craving for mountains of gold, for one’s freedom is more precious than treasure, and love tainted by selfish possessiveness was more corruptive than any vice known to humanity.
Standing at the shore, he handed the seal skin to Jeeves. A tear dropped onto the soft fur. He smiled.
“You can go home now, Jeeves. I am happy for you.”
But only more tears rolled down his cheeks. Jeeves kissed them off. Their lips touched. The tears streamed into the bitter kiss of farewell, as salty as the vast ocean between them.
“Will I see you again, Jeeves?”
“I do not know, sir.” The selkie hung his head low.
“It’s all right. Go now. You are free.”
Sliding into the seal skin, the human form transformed into a large gray seal. With a trembling hand, Bertie touched its head; it felt soft and slick, reminding him of the silky skin under his loving caress during the memorable nights they shared.
Behind a film of tear mist, he watched the seal disappear into the sea with the receding tide. As the sky and the ocean merged into one at the horizon, the seal’s gray fur merged into the dark blue water, never to be seen again.
Could not contain his surging emotion anymore, Bertie shouted with all his strength, “I—love—you—Jeeves—”
The splashing of waves devoured his voice. Under the roar of the sea, not an echo to be heard.
For a fortnight, Bertie locked himself in his chalet, drowning in sorrow. He never opened his door saving purchasing food from vendors, from whom he learned the news about Gildon: After sending his invitation to the duchess and numerous most prestigious guests of the dukedom, Gildon suddenly found a large portion of gold in the dungeon had turned into lead. Debt eclipsed his remained wealth. His guests left his mansion, and magical creatures abandoned him. Insanity consumed the once-venerated merchant. He had nothing left but his mansion and an elderly maid who was kind enough to take care of the madman.
At the turning of the new moon, Bertie was alerted by the knocking on his door as he was about to drift into another lonely dream. Reluctantly, he flung the door open. And he was met with the sight out of a dream.
Standing before him in the dim lantern light was none other than Jeeves, his still wet seal skin in his hand. He looked more magnificent than Bertie remembered.
“I owe you some answers, sir. After a lengthy meditation, I think I have them for you.”
Speechless, Bertie gazed at him. He pinched the back of his hand. It was not a dream.
“I couldn’t spend a day without thinking about you. I longed for the ocean when I was imprisoned by humans. But when I was free at home, I longed for you even more. I was compelled, and willingly to come back to you. I know naught how a human love, but if what filled my heart and soul was not love, then I cannot say what is. I love you, Bertie.”
Folding his beloved into his embrace, Bertie poured words of love into Jeeves’ ears. Suddenly, the shadow of worry clouded his face.
“But will you miss the ocean and leave me again one day?”
“Once a year on the warmest summer days, I will return to the ocean for a fortnight. The rest of the time, Bertie, I will spend with you. I will tend your garden and kitchen, and bring you fish from the sea. I am very good at fishing. I will make myself useful to you.”
“Oh, Jeeves my love!”
And there was nothing else to be said. Words were not sufficient for two hearts aching to be one. Together, they fell into the ecstasy known to all living beings of the world.