Chapter 14
When Sonidor’s gaze faltered in astonishment, trailing off mid-sentence, Marmel stepped back with a disappointed look. He stared down at the little bird with a face full of lingering regret before finally opening up. Just as he had said, the tiny bird was small and cute enough to shatter his tightly locked heart in an instant.
“This place… it really isn’t paradise. In paradise, everything was under my control. I could do anything I wanted.”
“So… you mean the dream no longer flows according to Your Highness’s will?”
“It’s a total mess now. I can only control the scenery around me, at most.”
He could still control the scenery, huh. Sonidor looked at the thorn garden and the black-and-white world and instantly understood. It would have been better if he couldn’t control the scenery either—but even if he couldn’t, the state of his mental world would be the same, so the dream scenery would be no different.
“Then, to get to the point, Your Highness… first, we need to keep finding the sources. To discover why you fell into a deep sleep and fix it, we have to go deep into your inner world. Do you happen to know what the sources are here, like you did in paradise?”
“Not at all.”
Marmel answered briefly, then fell into thought. Suddenly, as if struck by a mischievous idea, he smiled playfully and asked:
“Then… is it possible to wake up?”
Hic! Sonidor let out an involuntary gasp. Marmel had spoken the forbidden word again. Last time, Sonidor had barely managed to ignore it, but now she had clearly heard it. Was she going to die? Die?! Sonidor would only wake up if she died, but someone like Marmel, in an unstable state, could fall into eternal sleep if killed. Sure, if luck favored them, they might wake up, but the risk was huge. If her consciousness fell deeper than the abyss, there would be no way to save her.
Even in reality, would she die?! The fate of the people… would it be sealed like this…? Mother, I’m sorry. I did my best. Gio, sorry… because of me, a catastrophe—the kind everyone secretly feared—might happen again. Terry, thanks for taking care of me all this time. But your bread… you always put too much butter. It’s such a waste…
But none of that happened. The beings on the ground didn’t come to kill her—they didn’t appear at all. Shaking, with her eyes tightly shut, Sonidor slowly opened them. When she looked up, Marmel’s mouth curled into a smirk. He couldn’t hold back and burst into laughter.
“Ah… really cute.”
Whatever it was, she had been teased! She let out a flustered chirp—the little bird’s unique cry.
After a while, he wiped away his tears from laughing and spoke, still amused:
“I don’t think saying you’ll wake up actually kills you. Not yet, at least.”
“Ah… not yet?”
When she asked what he meant, Marmel rested his chin on his hand and carefully chose his words.
“In paradise, whenever I said that, headless things would appear, desperate to prevent me from getting what I wanted. Things I usually enjoyed, like food or entertainment. They obeyed me without giving me a chance to realize reality or feel bored. But now? Since you ate the fruit you called the source, no one has appeared.”
“What if we went even deeper into the inner world?” He added, laughing softly.
“That could be evidence that following you might soon put me in danger too.”
“Ugh… then don’t say that!”
The little bird chirped, warning that the forbidden word shouldn’t be spoken. Marmel tapped her head gently and smiled warmly. Though she was trying to restrain herself, her cute, exasperated expression remained.
“It’s just my guess. Let’s hope I’m wrong.”
“Please, I hope you’re wrong. If something happens to Your Highness, it’ll be a disaster.”
Sonidor exhaled, wishing the ground would swallow her, and calmed down slightly. In dreams, words often become reality. Giving Marmel a sharp look for his mischief, she resolved to get to work quickly. Finding the source was the top priority. Time wasted could cause everything to go wrong, so they needed to move immediately. Marmel asked:
“What exactly is a source?”
“Anything precious—a memory, an object, a place, an action, a belief, affection, desire—can be a source.”
“That’s… everything.”
“That’s why you have an expert here. Most of what I mentioned is based on ‘memories’ and ‘earnest hopes.’ Nothing that happens in dreams is purely random. I’ll guide you along the way.”
Of course, fruits like the ones Marmel ate in paradise didn’t count. Yet, as he said, she felt an inexplicable pull to eat the fruit. That alone was enough to make it a source. Dreams are inherently illogical. Recognizing that quickly was crucial.
“Then let’s start with the first step: finding the source. Where are we?”
“The Freesia Palace Garden.”
The palace garden…? And with a flower name attached, it had to be the Empress’s palace. The Emperor didn’t have a separate harem.
“This doesn’t look like it at all.”
Recognizing that the scenery was unusual, Sonidor asked cautiously. Marmel glanced around lightly and said:
“My mother always tended it herself, so this is probably what it looks like now.”
Indeed, this seemed to be the late Empress’s palace. As she followed him through the garden, she said hesitantly:
“No matter how neglected a garden is, thorns shouldn’t grow like this.”
“Really?”
Marmel tilted his head, reaching out and sweeping his hands lightly from side to side. The thorn vines that covered the garden vanished. So this is what it means to control the scenery with one’s will. But for a moment, the barren wasteland-like landscape that appeared seemed worse than the thorns. The ornate fountain and pavilion standing alone looked pitiful.
Even the decapitated gardener, hidden behind the thorn vines, became visible. He held pruning shears and looked menacing. The dream artisan had made her flinch at the sight of beings on the ground. Clearly, the Crown Prince’s dream had gone wrong.
She spoke, flustered:
“Uh… it doesn’t look like this in Your Highness’s memory, right? Can’t it be closer to how it was in the past?”
“I don’t remember.”
Despite studying imperial history and rulership since age four, his memory was surprisingly poor. Sonidor was puzzled. Secretaries usually record only the truth, even under threat—so this couldn’t be a lie. They would have written, “The Emperor said he would cut my head,” even if threatened.
Marmel furrowed his brows, as if recalling, and slowly moved his lips:
“…It was probably full of freesia. My mother loved that flower the most. I’ve forgotten what it looked like, though.”
He gestured, and a strange, twisted flower bloomed in the air—grotesque, like something from hell.
“No… not this… not just forgotten… he’s creating something entirely alien to the human world.”
Sonidor shook her head and asked:
“Do you know what the flower should look like?”
She remembered that even in the first dream, when she fell into the lush forest, no flowers bloomed. The Crown Prince had neither aesthetic sense nor the patience to stop and admire the garden flowers.
Sonidor gave up on reproducing memories. At least some thorn vines remained. Marmel answered:
“I remember what my birth flower looked like.”
“Oh, then how about planting that in the garden?”
“Not a very good idea, I think.”
He waved his hand again, and dozens, even hundreds of flowers bloomed across the garden. A sharp scent filled the air. The densely layered black petals were striking and carried thorns sharper than roses.
“Thanatos.”
Plucking one, he looked indifferently at his finger bleeding from the thorn.
“The flower’s meaning is death.”
“…”
The plan to recreate memories through flowers and soften Marmel’s heart had failed. Softness? It felt like being sucked into a swamp of depression. Normally flowers symbolize dreams and hope—why did it always end like this?
Why was the Crown Prince born on the day of Thanatos?!
A long road ahead.
Sonidor sighed and stared at the chaotic garden.
“Yes. First, we need mental stability before worrying about sources.”
“Death… is closest to life. Birth exists because death exists, and death exists because birth exists. Death is life. They coexist, inseparable. That’s why the flower of Thanatos symbolizes life and birth.”
What am I saying? Sonidor paused, unsure herself. Yet her passionate words seemed to reach Marmel. Dropping the plucked flower onto the ground, he laughed darkly.
“Even as a bird, your tongue is like a snake’s.”
“Your Highness, let’s look to a brighter, hopeful future. The world is truly beautiful if you look closely.”
Beautiful skies! Beautiful sun, moon, and stars! Beautiful mountains and fields! Beautiful rivers and seas! Beautiful flowers and trees! She spread her wings and chirped. How wonderful the crimson sunset was, how magnificent the Milky Way embroidered across the sky, how gorgeous the flowers’ colors were.
“Even man-made art is wonderful. Art encompasses a wider realm.”
“Hmm, then how about my art?”
He pointed to the garden surrounded by Thanatos flowers.
“Uh… unique, I guess? Judging by the patterns, it has distinct arabesque elements.”
Overall, grotesque. Especially since everyone in the dream appeared headless. Not that it failed artistic standards, but it certainly wasn’t good for mental health.
