Chapter 8
She looked as though she were asleep, but in truth, her consciousness was frantically searching for Marmel’s.
To create a dream, it was essential to connect one consciousness to another.
‘Huh…?’
She found it faster than expected. She had assumed it would be difficult to locate the consciousness of someone eternally asleep. But there it was—a huge, undulating black mass that seemed to cry out for her to find it. Thoughts wandering nearby resonated with the black consciousness, ringing loudly. Was that the Crown Prince’s consciousness? Sonidor extended her own and quickly entwined it with the dark mass. Strangely, there was no resistance.
Outwardly, he appeared like the pure-white Crown Prince, but his consciousness was pitch black and impenetrable. The vividness of the color made her uncomfortable. Usually, consciousnesses were faint, translucent, or had various colors mixed in. But this one was a solid, stark black. An ominous feeling stirred within her, but she shook it off. In dreams, even the thought of “this might be dangerous” could become real danger. She had to maintain mental control—again and again.
‘Weather. Let’s go with a clear, sunny autumn morning. Something safe.’
Night was better for delving deep into the mind, but she didn’t want to take risks on the first try. First, she needed to observe what he usually dreamt about. There was a chance the Crown Prince wouldn’t even appear as himself in the dream. If he was hiding deep inside in an unrecognizable form, that would be the worst-case scenario.
‘I’ll find him right away,’ she thought as she opened her eyes—and was met with a colorless world. It looked like a forest: dense trees, thick foliage, and a stream flowing nearby. Since dreams often reconstruct memories, Sonidor could replicate Marmel’s senses perfectly. Or even more vividly—because perception was subjective.
Yet, this place was entirely black and white. Though it was set to daytime, everything looked shrouded in darkness.
No one had ever mentioned the Crown Prince was colorblind. Perplexed, Sonidor tried to walk—but her body didn’t move freely. What…?
She looked down—and was speechless. From her neck down, she had the body of a snake.
Unbelievable. Normally, she would take on the form most desired by the consciousness’s owner. But the Crown Prince’s most desired being was… a snake? Maybe a beloved pet snake that had died?
Lamenting her need to crawl, she slithered to the water’s edge to check her reflection. A small, white thread snake. Not that she could be sure of the color—this entire world was in grayscale.
The river flowed strongly, but made no sound. No insects chirped. No rustling of leaves in the breeze. Instead, from somewhere, a woman’s humming echoed—a wordless, eerie tune laced with metallic screeches. If songs had colors, this one would be a thick, black tar, sticky and sinister. It crawled down her spine and coiled tightly around her neck like a chain. Sonidor shook her head to banish the sound, but it was no use.
‘What an awful taste in music…’
From the river—more white than gray—a black pool began to bloom like a mirage. The stream rapidly turned pitch black. A metallic stench stung her nose. As she looked down at the water—
She finally saw what she had missed.
At the riverbed were human heads. Not one, but dozens—hundreds. Their pupils grotesquely dilated, mouths and noses gushing black water.
“Hiiik!!!”
Holy crap!
Jerking her head away, she crawled frantically through the forest.
No—don’t panic. Mind control. Breathe. Those aren’t heads—they’re rocks. Just black water-spraying rocks. Yup. Rocks.
Then, not far off, she saw a massive dragon. As big as a house—clearly a fantastical creature. But it had no neck. A neckless, deformed dragon. When it whipped its tail, dozens of trees snapped like twigs and rolled across the ground. And standing before it, blade gleaming, was Marmel.
Even in a colorless world, his pure white hair shimmered like sunlight.
A dream of slaying a dragon… Was the kind and gentle Crown Prince secretly dreaming of being a hero? She had never spoken to him directly in reality, so she could only guess.
She watched quietly as Marmel swung his sword and instantly slashed the dragon in two. Black blood spurted like a geyser, staining the forest—and him—completely.
He laughed. Not a joyful laugh, but a hollow, empty one, echoing into the air. Then, he tilted his head back.
The sky turned crimson in an instant. Or rather, in Sonidor’s eyes, it turned black.
It was a sign of awakening.
Marmel muttered toward the neckless dragon—his voice so low, so grim, and so haunting it chilled her.
“Father…”
The humming intensified. The sky began to crack apart. From the black twilight, blinding white beams of light poured through—bathing the shattered world in divine light.
The Crown Prince, sensing the change, turned to look at the sky… then slowly turned his gaze to her.
His smile twisted grotesquely.
Between snowy lashes, jet-black irises gleamed—and stared straight at her.
Sword in hand, Marmel slowly approached her like a predator closing in.
Sonidor was paralyzed. Frozen.
The Crown Prince… was utterly mad.
Silence shattered. Like a sun-blasted glacier, the world exploded into white. A total whiteout. She couldn’t see or think.
Her eyes stung. Tears streamed uncontrollably.
She had lost her grip on Marmel’s consciousness.
Completely.
—
Gradually, sensations returned. The soft touch of bed sheets on her cheek.
Relieved to be back in reality, Sonidor felt tears roll down her face. She wasn’t sure if it was from pain… or relief.
‘He really was about to kill me.’
After a pause, she spoke calmly.
“Sir Knight, could you help me up?”
Truthfully, she wasn’t calm at all. But she didn’t want to make a fuss in front of Christian. Now that they’d formed a contract, she needed to look reliable.
She’d had worse dreams before. Nearly died. Even actually died a few times. This one had just been especially twisted.
As she mentally coached herself, Christian silently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Pain shot through her.
“Aaaack! My shoulder! It’s broken!”
“…I barely touched you.”
“Please, please be aware of your own strength! Can’t you give me a massage or something?”
“…Now I’m your masseur?”
He sighed and began pressing her shoulder with his thumb. He had, after all, been briefed by Terry on “How to Handle Sonidor” on the way to the palace.
The summary: After using her ability, she stiffens up. Don’t touch her too soon or she’ll pass out the next day. If she does, tempt her with food or sweet smells. This mission was long-term, so expect constant complaints and always have snacks ready.
Feed her well, and half the battle was won. She was, honestly, ridiculously simple.
“…It feels dislocated. Are you sure it’s not?”
“Stop exaggerating. A doctor’s coming tomorrow. Endure until then.”
“Doctor?”
“The one who first diagnosed His Highness. He’ll assist your work from now on.”
Sonidor recalled the emperor’s creed: “Move efficiently with the minimum personnel.”
Well… they were milking her for all she was worth.
“I’m grateful for the doctor’s help, of course.”
Though… maybe she should pray for his soul, too. “Minimum personnel” meant fewer heads to chop off later.
She sighed and rotated her numb wrists.
Marmel had decapitated the dragon—and called it “Father.”
That hollow voice lingered in her mind.
Was that his inner desire to kill the Emperor? If so, she had to report it.
Because everything in the dream world was tied to the client’s subconscious. Nonsense dreams didn’t exist.
She mulled over how to explain it.
“Your Highness might’ve… flipped his lid?”
“No, too informal.”
“How about… ‘I’ve never seen such a grotesque mental world in my life’?”
Still too harsh.
Or maybe: “I fear he may soon commit an unforgivable crime against the heavens…”
No matter what she said, she’d likely get executed on the spot.
‘He has such a soft, marshmallowy name…’
Why couldn’t his dreams be just as fluffy?
While she grumbled, Christian placed a slice of cake on the table beside her.
He was following Terry’s care instructions perfectly.
“Oh my gosh, thank you!”
She quickly picked it up, cut it into neat bites with her fork, and savored it.
That nightmare? All worth it for this.
The soft cake melted on her tongue. She closed her eyes, smiling with delight.
“So? How was it?”
“The chocolate was rich and sweet, with just the right touch of bitterness. The cherry preserves and whipped cream were divine. Moist like cotton candy… Ah, royal chefs really are on another level…”
“I wasn’t asking about the cake. I meant His Highness. How is he?”
He could’ve just said that from the start. She rolled her eyes, then glanced at the still-sleeping Marmel.
Still trapped in the ice palace. Still cursed. Still ethereal.
“I mean… if you’re asking if he’s ‘doing well’… I guess?”
Mentally, though?
Astral.
