🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter – 03
She stared blankly at him.
He, too, said nothing—only watched her in silence.
For a long while, they simply stood there, gazing at each other.
No one could have said how long the stillness lasted before she finally moved.
She reached out her hand.
Her pale arm slipped from beneath the thin blanket—her shoulder, her chest, her waist, and finally, her smooth toes revealed under the dim light.
Her body was bare, luminous as if carved from moonlight.
But neither of them seemed to notice.
One step. Then another.
She walked toward him.
Her slender fingers stopped just a breath away from his cheek.
The faint tremor in her hand brushed his skin, and even the fine hairs on his face stood on end.
Then she withdrew her hand, closing her eyes tightly as she took a deep, shaky breath.
She tried to speak—but her lips were too dry, her throat rasped without sound.
And the next instant, he moved.
In two long strides, he was standing before her.
Her gaze lifted to meet his.
His eyes—clear, cold, steady.
Her breath hitched.
The front of his shirt brushed against her bare chest. He didn’t blink.
Expressionless—just as he had looked the first time they met in her dream.
“…Why.”
He didn’t need to finish the question.
Why are you here?
She already knew what he meant.
“Why…? I—I don’t… know…”
She shook her head violently, her scarlet hair rippling across her white shoulders.
Then her own eyes caught on the ends of her hair.
“What the…?”
Her hair—red? Not auburn, not dark wine-red, but vivid crimson.
She grabbed a lock at her waist and yanked it hard.
It didn’t hurt—but she could feel the unmistakable pull.
The color drained completely from her face.
This isn’t a dream.
Her head snapped up.
“Bend down.”
“…What?”
“I said, bend down!”
He instinctively leaned forward—and she bared her teeth and bit his nose.
Their eyes met at point-blank range: his calm, sky-colored ones and her wide, electric blue.
A spark flared between them.
No scream. No moan.
When he didn’t react, she awkwardly stepped back.
He was fine—too fine.
She had definitely bitten him. She had felt the skin between her teeth, the pressure, the sensation—too vivid to deny.
Yet he didn’t even flinch.
“…Is this… a dream?” she whispered, barely audible.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head.
“It’s not.”
“Then why didn’t it hurt?”
“It did. Not much, but… I can feel that I was bitten. There’s a sting.”
“You’re not imagining that?”
“No.”
He took her trembling hand and guided it to his nose.
Her fingertips brushed the faint mark she had left, and her shoulders quivered.
In the dream, when she’d bitten him before, his skin had always been smooth, unmarked.
“There’s… a mark.”
Silence fell between them again.
A silence so thick, so uncomfortable it hurt.
At last, she couldn’t bear it anymore.
“Hit me. Hard.”
“…I’d rather not.”
“Hit me so hard I’ll have no choice but to believe this isn’t a dream.”
“You’d faint before you even processed the pain.”
“Then I want to faint!”
Her voice cracked into a shout, her jaw trembling.
He only stared at her, then quietly walked past.
She didn’t turn to watch him go. She couldn’t.
Her vision was darkening.
The floor swayed beneath her feet—or was it her stomach?
The room spun. Her knees buckled.
And just before she collapsed, his arm circled her waist.
He caught her easily, lifting her limp body as though she weighed nothing.
She hung against him like a damp ribbon, too weak even to speak.
Unable to sit her properly on the sofa, he laid her down on the bed instead.
Her scarlet hair spilled over her pale back like a silk river.
He moved silently to the bookshelf.
He grabbed the first book his hand found and returned to her side.
She lay face-down, breathing unevenly into the sheets.
He set the book atop her head.
The weight made her stir faintly. She blinked and raised her face just in time for him to open the book before her eyes.
“It’s not blank.”
The pages were filled—dense lines of unfamiliar letters.
She couldn’t read them, couldn’t even recognize the script.
Her face twisted. She shut her eyes tight, opened them again.
The writing remained.
He closed the book and pressed his long hand gently on top of her head.
“You can tell it’s not a dream now—even without being hit, can’t you?”
A small, broken sound escaped her throat. She beat the mattress with her fist.
“Should I show you another book?” he asked quietly.
No answer.
He set the book down and sat at the edge of the bed. His lips parted—then closed again.
He’d been about to say her name… only to realize he didn’t even know it.
The silence pressed on them again, heavy as stone.
This time, she was the one who broke it.
“Why did you come here?”
It was abrupt and senseless, just like in their dreams.
And, just like in their dreams, his reply was calm and matter-of-fact.
“There’s a book I need to find. And, as you said, I thought I might actually rest—just once—on such a fine bed.”
“That answer is… absolutely useless right now.”
“Useless?”
“I mean—you’re saying you didn’t come here for anything weird or magical or dangerous? You just came to sleep in your own bed? That’s what you’re going with?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Perhaps.”
“Yeah, no. Definitely not helping.”
She sighed deeply from somewhere near her soul and tried to recall what had happened before she opened her eyes.
Everything had been normal.
She had fallen asleep after meeting him in her dream, same as always.
She hadn’t talked to anyone in her sleep, hadn’t been in an accident, hadn’t heard any mysterious voice.
Thinking back further—before she fell asleep—nothing strange had happened then either.
No strange object, no cryptic warning, no lightning strike or truck accident. Nothing.
In short, there was no possible reason she should have woken up inside a dream turned real.
She clutched her head with both hands.
“What the hell is happening?”
Her voice was a low, shaky groan.
He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Your dream became reality.”
“This is not the kind of hopeful story you think it is!”
“Is it supposed to be hopeful?”
His tone was so dry it almost cracked.
She groaned weakly.
“In my world, there’s a saying—‘Dreams come true.’ It’s supposed to be… you know, uplifting.”
“That’s quite a good line. Motivating. I could use it.”
“Oh my god, you’re still thinking like that? Right now? Of course you are. Why do I even ask?”
She didn’t even have to think back to recall what kind of man he was.
Just remembering their conversation from yesterday’s dream was enough to know the weight he carried—and the ruthless path he had to walk.
“Villains really do have it worse than heroes,” she muttered vaguely.
His face shifted slightly, the expression flickering for a moment.
“Heroes just smash whatever the villain’s built. But villains—they have to scheme, plan, make things happen… it’s a full-time job.”
Her drained, half-laughing tone made him turn his head and cover his mouth with one hand, shoulders trembling faintly.
Even now—just like in her dreams—she couldn’t tell what exactly he found funny.
She narrowed her eyes and sat up, moving closer. One by one, she pried his fingers from his mouth and sighed.
“Just laugh.”
And finally, he did. A low, brief chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly.
The tension coiled inside her chest eased a little.
She drew a long breath. “Okay, enough denial. We need to figure out what to do—”
Knock knock.
Both their heads turned toward the door at once.
Knock knock.
The sound came again.
Her expression stiffened, panic creeping back. The fragile calm she’d regained shattered instantly.
“Should I hide? Should I run? Maybe under the bed—no, people always get caught hiding under the bed! The closet? Wait, is there even a closet in here—there’s not!”
He caught her by the shoulders before she could spiral further, holding her in place.
Her small, white shoulders trembled under his hand—cold to the touch.
He met her eyes and took a deep breath.
She followed, mimicking him.
Bit by bit, the trembling in her eyes faded.
He took her hand. Warmth spread through her fingers—along with the faint ache of returning sensation.
Knock knock.
The third.
“There’s no need to hide or run. Everything here belongs to me.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “And you,” he added softly, “are my guest.”
She exhaled shakily, then raised her hand and tapped his forehead with a finger.
“Even though this isn’t a dream?”
“Even though it isn’t.”
Knock knock.
The fourth knock sounded, followed by muffled voices outside. She couldn’t make out the words, but at least two—maybe three—people were talking.
She clenched her teeth.
All right.
It’s not a dream. It’s real.
She didn’t want to believe it—but denying it wouldn’t help.
She had no time to freeze.
Her mind spun faster than it ever had in her life.
Unfortunately, it was spinning in place—completely blank.
Just as she was about to despair at her own uselessness, one single thought finally surfaced.
