Chapter 41: A Dream Date
Adele wasn’t usually one for naps. She cherished every waking moment, every opportunity to savor the joys and pleasures of life. To her, sleep was a waste of precious time.
But this body… it had other ideas. Its need for midday slumber was deeply ingrained, a habit that Adele couldn’t seem to shake off.
She had barely been scrolling through her phone for two minutes when a wave of exhaustion washed over her, her eyelids drooping, her yawns becoming increasingly frequent and uncontrollable.
Perhaps… it was the original Adele’s way of coping with the harsh realities of this world, of escaping the pain, the loneliness, the constant reminders of her… inferiority.
To her, dreams were preferable to reality.
But… I wanted to watch more funny videos… And my favorite author just updated her story…
Ugh… I can’t fight it anymore…
Adele, with a final burst of willpower, set an alarm for 2:15 PM, then let her arms fall to her sides, her phone slipping from her grasp, landing on the bedsheets beside her.
It was a surprisingly… alluring pose.
And then… she was asleep, her mind drifting into the comforting embrace of slumber.
The curtains, half-drawn, cast the room in a soft, dappled light, dividing it into pools of sunshine and shadow. Adele’s upper body lay in shadow, her sleeping face peaceful, innocent, her beauty… breathtaking. Her legs, clad in white cotton socks, stretched out towards the sunlight, her skin glowing with an almost ethereal radiance.
She slept soundly, oblivious to the world around her, the gentle rustle of the curtains, the soft footsteps outside her door… the click of the doorknob turning.
A small figure slipped through the partially open door, her breath quick and shallow, her movements hesitant despite the confidence she usually exuded.
The air shimmered with a subtle, almost imperceptible magic, its presence more felt than seen, a dreamlike haze that enveloped the room.
Adele, inhaling the magic-infused air, her body naturally susceptible to its influence, felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her, her eyelids fluttering, her mind drifting further into the comforting embrace of sleep.
It wasn’t, as she had assumed, simply a matter of habit, the original Adele’s way of escaping reality. It was… something else. Something more… sinister.
It was the work of her roommate, the one who had slipped into her room while she slept, the one who held the power to manipulate dreams, to shape reality… within the realm of slumber.
The Dream Eater: Sharon.
She, too, was a Sequence One, a vampire of immense power and privilege. But she was also… an enigma. A shadow. Her presence in the academy was… unremarkable. She was known primarily as… Dorothy’s lackey.
Her power was subtle, her demeanor unassuming. She was quiet, deferential, almost… invisible. Especially in Dorothy’s presence.
The other Sequence Ones looked down on her, dismissed her as a weakling, a sycophant. They barely acknowledged her existence, their indifference a constant reminder of her… inferiority.
Only Sharon knew… the truth.
Most high-ranking vampires had silver hair, a symbol of their pure bloodline, their noble heritage. But Sharon’s hair was a strange mix of silver and gray, its dullness a constant reminder of her… tainted blood.
Rumors swirled about her mother, whispers of a lowborn succubus, a creature of darkness and seduction.
But regardless of the truth, one fact remained: Sharon, like Adele, was a half-blood. And… an illegitimate child.
She had never known her father’s love, had always been an outsider in her own family, ostracized, ridiculed, her existence a source of… shame.
She had grown up surrounded by whispers, by judging eyes, her spirit slowly eroding, her confidence shattered.
Adele was brave, strong. She had never sought refuge in dreams, had never allowed the harsh realities of this world to break her.
The one who truly craved escape, the one who sought solace in the realm of slumber… it was Sharon.
………………
Sharon, her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing ragged, pressed her back against the door, her movements careful, silent. She closed the door, sealing them within, creating a space… just for them.
Her gaze, from the moment she had entered the room, had been fixed on Adele’s face, her eyes tracing the delicate contours of her features, her lips curving into a soft, wistful smile.
Emotions, a torrent of longing and… something else, swirled within her, threatening to overwhelm her.
She had done this before. Many times. But each time… it felt… different. More intense. More… real?
Adele… My… Adele…
She whispered the name, her heart aching with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.
She crossed the room, her steps silent, her movements graceful, and knelt beside the bed, her gaze never leaving Adele’s face. She reached out, her fingers gently caressing Adele’s hand, her touch lingering, her cheek brushing against Adele’s palm.
Her short, silver-gray hair fell across Adele’s arm, a stark contrast to the smooth, flawless skin beneath.
She knew every line, every crease, of Adele’s palm, her touch a silent expression of… worship? Obsession?
Her gaze softened, her eyelids drooping, her body swaying slightly as she succumbed to… the allure of Adele’s presence, the intoxicating scent of her blood, the hypnotic rhythm of her breathing…
She rested her head against Adele’s hand, her breath mingling with Adele’s, her body relaxing, her mind… awakening.
For Sharon, the Dream Eater… this was… reality.
………………
April. Spring. Peach blossoms raining down, painting the world in shades of pink and white.
Adele, strolling through the familiar yet… different scenery of the academy, her heart filled with a vague sense of unease, was on her way to meet a friend.
It seemed… normal. Ordinary.
But something was… off.
I’m Adele… that much I know. But… where am I?
What am I doing here?
A fleeting thought, a whisper of “meeting a friend,” drifted through her mind, but it wasn’t enough to quell the growing sense of… wrongness.
The scenery was familiar, but the peach blossoms… they were out of place. The academy, in reality, was shrouded in the colors of autumn, the leaves turning brown and gold, the air crisp and cool.
Wait… reality?
Could this be… a dream?
There was a saying: “Once you realize you’re dreaming, you wake up.”
Adele tried to wake up, to break free from the dream’s hold.
But as she focused her mind, a sharp, piercing pain shot through her head, as if something was… resisting her, forcing her to… stay.
And it worked. The power, the sheer force of the… suggestion, was overwhelming.
Adele’s consciousness, her awareness of the dream, faded, her eyes losing their focus, becoming blank, her lips curving into a vacant smile.
She was a puppet, her movements controlled by an unseen force, walking along a path strewn with peach blossoms, her destination… predetermined.
She was going to meet a friend. A very important friend.
More than just a friend, actually.
A lover. A soulmate. A childhood sweetheart. A classmate. A first love. A… everything.
Because… that was what Sharon had implanted in her mind, a suggestion so powerful, so deeply ingrained, that Adele’s subconscious had accepted it as… reality.
And she would act accordingly, her actions, her emotions, guided by this… false memory.
But it would feel… real. Because within a dream, actions were driven by the subconscious, by instinct, by… suggestion.
Adele had become a puppet, her strings controlled by an unseen hand.
The Dream Eater: Sharon.
The master of this realm.
Within a dream… she was all-powerful.
Adele, her movements stiff and unnatural, reached her destination: a beautiful garden, a riot of colors and scents, a paradise… within a dream.
And there, amidst the flowers, stood Sharon, dressed in a flowing white gown, her silver-gray hair adorned with delicate blossoms, her eyes sparkling with a joy so intense that it bordered on… pain.
She turned, her gaze meeting Adele’s, a radiant smile illuminating her face.
“Adele, you’re here,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming.
“I’ve been waiting for you. You’re late, you know. This was supposed to be… a special occasion. But… it’s okay. I understand…”
She trailed off, the unspoken words, the truth she couldn’t bring herself to voice, catching in her throat.
She shook her head, her smile fading, her voice taking on a wistful tone.
“I missed you,” she said. “Did you… miss me?”
And Adele, her voice a dreamy whisper, her eyes glazed with a manufactured affection, gave her the answer she craved.
“…Yes.”
