040. Word Spirit: Dream Tapir

Wakaba Mutsumi stood right within this gloomy basement.

Beside her, Metis was shrouded in shadows at this moment, the expression on her face looking somewhat dejected.

"Mutsumi, I'm sorry..."

"Forgive me..."

"Forgive..."

Her voice grew softer and softer, eventually trailing off into what sounded like a mere murmur to herself.

Wakaba Mutsumi turned around, looked at Metis, and still said nothing.

She tried to lift her consciousness upward, just like she always did, to return to the real world.

However,

all of a sudden,

within her consciousness,

from the television set positioned by the window, a loud pounding sound abruptly rang out.

Metis leaped up onto it and shouted:

"Quickly, Mutsumi, shut it—"

Before she could finish her sentence, a tremendous force seemed to surge from within the television, directly knocking her flying.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Her voice was exceptionally urgent.

"You must never let 'it' out,"

"Mutsumi, I'm begging you!"

Wakaba Mutsumi simply stood there quietly.

She remained silent, seemingly indifferent to whatever was happening.

"Mutsumi... you!"

Metis's voice grew increasingly anxious.

Wakaba Mutsumi appeared to be frozen, her golden eyes flickering like mandrake flowers, staggered and alternating.

Earlier, Metis had tried to disguise things with a dream, but ultimately failed.

Yet at this moment, standing right here, she seemed as though she had truly sunk into a dreamscape.

Could one sink into a dream even from within the palace of consciousness?

Wakaba Mutsumi did not know the answer.

At that moment, however, she felt as though her consciousness were plunging into an abyss.

Within her spatial consciousness, there was not only this single basement, but many other rooms as well, save for the fact that there were certain places Wakaba Mutsumi had never ventured deep into.

"Swish—"

It felt as though some entity was about to awaken.

Wakaba Mutsumi suddenly felt as if everything had become unreal. Clearly, she could perceive her own consciousness with crystal clarity, yet it felt just like a dream—drowsy and hazy.

Singing inexplicably echoed within the room.

The singing was chaotic and harsh,

yet Wakaba Mutsumi could discern the bustle of a banquet and the hustle and bustle of a crowd from within that song...

As some unknown entity began to chant this tune, her heartbeat pounded like a battle drum, every single beat making her head ring with a dull throb.

"This is..."

Wakaba Mutsumi's heart tightened abruptly.

Deep within her mind, memories she had long buried rushed forth like a breached dam, flooding out all at once—

It was a stage.

Beneath the dazzling lights, Wakaba Mutsumi stood rigidly in the center, wearing an exquisite dress.

Down below, the adults raised their wine glasses, polite yet distant smiles on their faces, eagerly awaiting her performance.

Her "mother's" hand rested on her shoulder, gentle yetbrooking no refusal as she said:

"Mutsumi, play your part."

She dared not resist, and could only summon a "vivid" expression, forcing herself through performance after performance.

"Such an obedient child."

"How brilliant, she's bound to achieve great things in the future."

"Your Mutsumi is truly exceptional. If my child could be just like her, I would be completely content."

Praises rose one after another.

Now, that oppressive weight assailed her once more, wrapping around her heart like a venomous snake, tightening with every coil.

This was her inner demon,

one of them.

"Ah—"

Metis, standing nearby, screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to rouse the frozen and stationary Wakaba Mutsumi.

"This is bad, this is bad..."

"What to do, what to do!"

"Mutsumi is about to lose control. If only she had handed over control to me sooner, what are we to do now?"

Metis's expression betrayed extreme anxiety.

This was [Spiritual Words: Dream Tapir].

It was a high-risk spiritual word originating from the White King within the bloodline heritage, capable of storing nightmares and dragging its target straight into their own inner demons.

Half-breeds possessing this spiritual word were exceedingly rare, because those who carried it had a probability of falling into a state of loss of control akin to the "Black Sun."

However, unlike the self-destructive destructive power of the "Black Sun," the holder of the "Dream Tapir" had to face their own inner demons head-on and awaken from them.

"Swish—"

Wakaba Mutsumi's breath hitched violently, her lungs feeling as though they were filled with freezing water, unable to draw in a single breath no matter what.

"I..."

"I am..."

"Who... am I..."

The consciousness in her mind grew increasingly scattered, as if it were about to detach entirely from this realm.

Yet the weekend banquet, the important guests... words that had once filled her with pressure and anguish were now crushing down upon her heart with brutal force.

How laughable... to rely on things she despised so much just to remind herself that she was still alive...

To be alive was truly an exhausting thing...

For reasons unknown, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, making her feel as though she might just drift off into a deep sleep.

"Swish—"

Beside her, Metis suddenly opened her mouth wide:

"I'm sorry, Mutsumi."

This was a desperate final gamble by the persona who existed as Wakaba Mutsumi's protector.

Rather than letting Wakaba Mutsumi slumber forever within the Dream Tapir, she might as well... take matters into her own hands and fight to become the dominant persona, striving for a sliver of a chance at survival.

On one side lay the infinite dreamscape...

On the other side lay the ferocious, gaping maw...

The hazy dreamscape seemed on the verge of solidifying into reality, while Metis's ferocious maw, tinged with pitch-black ink, also lunged forward to devour Wakaba Mutsumi at the center.

Both forces were fiercely contending for "Wakaba Mutsumi," each hoping to swallow her up first.

Wakaba Mutsumi closed her eyes.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

In the end, Metis's giant maw was no match for the "Dream Tapir"; the ferocious jaws were suppressed bit by bit, eventually reverting to their primal form.

Tears inexplicably streamed down Metis's eyes.

"Mutsumi..."

Shadows seemed to shroud the entire space, and the sensation of a "dream" began to gradually blanket everything.

A faint gray hue started to manifest across Wakaba Mutsumi's body.

"Mutsumi!"

Wakaba Mutsumi opened her eyes.

Strange... that did not sound like Metis's voice.

This was...

She racked her brains, her memories surging once more as she sought out the traces of true existence from within the dream.

This was...

Nagumo... Ugetsu?

This was his voice.

Wakaba Mutsumi felt her consciousness rising, the tactile sensation of reality beginning to awaken deep within her perception.

It should be... like this.

The gray hue on her body was fading, and out of the corner of her eye, Wakaba Mutsumi spotted the guitar hidden away in the corner.

As it turned out, Metis had deliberately hidden this guitar from the spatial consciousness in the classroom's janitorial corner earlier to maintain her disguise, causing her to fail to notice it for a time.

It was only when the stage constructed by Metis shattered and Nagumo Ugetsu's voice reached her that she found the anchor point within her own consciousness.

Swish—

Unlike the spatial consciousness, and even more unlike the "dreamscape,"

finally, Wakaba Mutsumi opened her eyes in reality.

Nagumo Ugetsu was standing right beside her, gently poking her arm.

"Hey, hey, it's PE class now."

"Mmm."

A stray tear inexplicably rolled down the corner of Wakaba Mutsumi's eye, whether from just waking up after a long sleep or from some other reason entirely, she could not tell.