Dreamwalker: Reign of the Heavenly Sovereign!-Chapter 46

Hoshizuki, 2:47 AM. The Sakuragi Residence.

Today's been a weird day, Oliver thought, collapsing onto his bed. He didn't even bother changing out of his school uniform—he had to be up in a few hours anyway. Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled out a pair of scissors, two talismans, and three tarot cards.

The first two cards bore all-too-familiar faces: Yuriko and Kaori, their naked bodies frozen in provocative poses, captured like JAV models. The third card was different—an odd, jester-like figure caught mid-step, dancing as he played with film reel-like ribbons. Each strip played out a scene, and if you looked closely, you could make out Yumi running out of the house. Follow the reel further, and it painted a moment that never happened—her rushing up the sidewalk and throwing herself into Oliver's arms in a heated embrace.

He turned the card over.

The Fool, it read, followed by two short story written in his own handwriting.

"You know I only gave you that card so your family wouldn't freak out about you getting home at two in the morning, right?" a playful voice chimed from behind him.

Aiko appeared in a puff of glitter and fluttering ribbons, her usual entrance. She smirked, hands on hips, now wearing a black sailor outfit that looked like something out of a twisted dream. "But I guess the nickname I gave you was right after all—pedo-kun."

She giggled, then curled up at his side like a cat claiming its perch. "I wouldn't care if it was some random girl, but your own step-sis? You're really playing the part of a villain here, Oli-kun~" Her tone was light, teasing, but a shadow of thought flickered behind her eyes. "Just wait 'til she's sixteen, alright? Only exceptions when she's the one that makes the first move."

Then, with a mischievous glint, she reached for the card. "Gimme that for a second."

Oliver moved it just out of her reach, smirking. "Wait a sec. What exactly are you planning?" One hand slid around her, gripping her ass with casual confidence. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And didn't you say you were getting some rest?"

"I will... if it's with you," she murmured, nuzzling in even closer. "I thought we could dream together. And as for why I want that tarot card—well, since we're already mind-fucking your little sis, I figured I should at least introduce myself properly. I promise... it'll be fun."

"Fine, here you go," Oliver said, giving her ass one last squeeze before handing over the card. "Just don't overdo it."

He sat up, grabbing the items he had fished out from his blazer pocket and the bag he'd lazily dropped next to the bed. Moving to his desk, he began setting things up. Today had been a wake-up call—he'd need far more power, and fast. The Dream Pattern ritual still seemed like the most efficient path.

Maybe I should skip school tomorrow.

"Aiko," he said, without turning around, "while you're... introducing yourself, can you make them think I've been sick lately?"

It wasn't really a question.

"Sure," she replied, now sitting up on the bed. She took a quill and began writing something on the back of the card. "By the way—what should I be? Your childhood sweetheart, or fiancée?"

He didn't bother answering. Either was fine. But the way they were casually discussing rewriting someone's memories only reminded him why the ritual mattered. If I brought Lian Xue into the real world... would that skyrocket my cultivation straight into the Foundation Establishment Realm? Or would she just be another figment?

Oliver began cutting out the dream patterns, prepping his materials. He took a pen and scrawled 生 (Life) on the red half of the first pattern, gluing it into the notebook.

Then came the next: 死 (Death), followed by 夢 (Dream).

Under his breath, he began to chant:

"Life flows into death, death returns to dreams.

The dream shapes the living, the living are born again.

In sleep, the cycle turns. In waking, it is sealed."

As the ritual concluded, he felt it—Morgana's brand pulsed faintly, like it was recording the process. No malice behind it, but still, it unsettled him.

"Aiko," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Didn't you say you wanted to dream together? You're not doing the ritual?"

"Mmhmm." She stretched, her voice lazy and sweet. "I'm already set."

She pulled the covers back and patted the space beside her. "Now come keep me warm, onii-chan~ It's cold out."

"Onii-chan?" Oliver asked, blinking as Aiko's voice took on a teasing lilt.

She smiled up at him from the bed, her eyes shimmering with mischief and something darker beneath the surface.

"Well," she said, brushing a lock of damp hair from her face, "since you can't have the real thing yet... why don't I be your substitute?"

Before he could respond, Aiko lifted her hand and slowly swept it across her face. The change was subtle, but unnerving—like watching a mask melt and reform. Skin tone shifted slightly, the shape of her lips altered, and her eyes turned the same glimmering shade as—

"Yumi..." he breathed, his throat tightening.

The transformation was perfect. She even wore the same small smile Yumi always had when she was trying not to laugh at him. Her school uniform, however, stayed the same—Aiko's twist of symbolism. Close, but wrong.

"I also decided how I'll introduce myself," she said, tilting her head, her voice now Yumi's. "I'm going to be both your fiancée and your childhood sweetheart."

She ran a hand through her now Yumi-styled hair, glancing down at herself with mock approval before locking eyes with him again.

"You'll just have to get used to me using your sister's face from now on."

She smiled wider. "After all... what are dreams for, if not to indulge in the impossible?"

Oliver said nothing. The words crawled beneath his skin, as if they'd already been carved there long ago.

Oliver let out a low breath, his gaze locked on her—not Aiko anymore, but Yumi's mirror. Her face, her voice, her subtle ticks. It was uncanny. Unsettling. But also...

He chuckled softly, the sound half in disbelief, half amusement. "You know," he said, turning in his chair just enough to glance over at her lying on the bed, "I might actually be really falling for you at this rate."

Aiko's—no, Yumi's—expression immediately turned into a pout, her lower lip jutting out as she rolled onto her back and kicked her legs slightly.

"Hey! That's mean, Onii-chan," she whined in mock hurt, voice rising just enough to carry across the room, "especially after you told me you loved me... right after messing up my insides."

Her voice dipped into a sweet, mocking coo on the last words, one hand draped across her stomach, the other lazily toying with the edge of the pillow beside her.

Oliver laughed again, darker this time, rubbing his temples. "You're a menace."

"But I'm your menace," she said with a wink, patting the space beside her in invitation. "Now come back to bed. It's really getting cold now, and you've got a fiancée who needs her cuddles."

Oliver didn't reply right away. He just closed his notebook with a quiet snap, and then switched off the night limp that dimly lit the room. With a breath, he rose from the chair, the floor creaking softly under his feet as he crossed the room.

As he reached the bed, Aiko watched him with that same teasing glint behind Yumi's eyes. He slid the notebook beneath the pillow, careful, like he was laying down something sacred.

Without a word, she pulled back the sheets and lifted them over the both of them with a rustle of fabric. Warmth rushed over him as he slipped in beside her, the scent of her hair mixing with the faint, lingering scent of perfume. Her hands were already moving—sliding over his chest, pulling him closer with lazy confidence.

"There's still time for a quickie, you know," she whispered, voice sultry and low as her fingers toyed with the edge of his shirt. "Right, Onii-chan~?"

Oliver leaned in, slowly at first, his lips brushing hers in a gentle, almost uncertain kiss. Aiko responded immediately, her hand cupping the side of his face, pulling him deeper. Their mouths moved in sync—hungry, exploring, familiar in a way that should've been strange but wasn't. Her breath hitched as he bit her lower lip, just enough to make her shiver, and then their tongues met in a slow, wet dance that left no space between them.

Aiko shifted beneath the sheets, pressing her body closer, her thigh sliding between his as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. It wasn't rushed—this was the kind of kiss that dragged seconds into minutes, each one stretching with heat and tension. He could feel her heartbeat thumping against his chest, could feel the warmth radiating from her skin as she clung to him like a dream she didn't want to wake from.

By the time they finally pulled apart for breath, a fine string of saliva still connected their lips. Aiko's cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her expression somewhere between affection and wicked amusement.

"Mm," she murmured, eyes half-lidded. "See? That's why I'm the perfect substitute."

—

Hoshizuki, 4:01 AM. The Sakuragi Residence.

Oliver lay there for a moment, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of their intense session. Aiko was nestled close to him, her body molded against his like a puzzle piece, warm and content. But as the seconds stretched into minutes, an unfamiliar heaviness settled on his chest, a strange pressure building in the air, thickening the space between them. His heart drummed louder in his ears.

Something was wrong.

The world around him began to flicker—just a small shift at first, a faint shimmer in the air, like the mirage of heat on a summer day. He blinked, feeling his pulse slow. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing in confusion as the room, the bed, the faint glow of moonlight from the window, all began to distort. The walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting in time with his breath, the familiar room warping like a painting stretched over an invisible frame.

"Aiko," he breathed, his voice coming out strained. He tried to sit up, but the bed seemed to melt beneath him, slipping and shifting like liquid.

Aiko didn't respond, her eyes closed in a lazy, satisfied expression, her lips curling in a small smile, as if she had no idea the world was starting to splinter apart.

Oliver's breath caught in his throat. His eyelids grew heavy as a sudden wave of sleepiness washed over him, pulling his head deeper into the pillow. That strange, familiar sensation returned—the one that always came before dreamwalking.

Darkness closed in.

Everything was tight and suffocating. His eyes snapped open, only to be met with more darkness. He panicked, limbs flailing instinctively. A creak echoed from somewhere in the black, and he thrashed harder—until the walls around him shattered.

Light poured in.

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

His eyes blinked open to a world that defied reason.

An endless expanse stretched before him, made of shifting patterns and impossible geometry. A checkerboard of purple and black tiles extended into the horizon, curling and bending like the floor of some ancient, cosmic chessboard. Above, the sky was a whirl of unnatural colors—swirls of red, violet, and green, like spilled ink bleeding through water.

"Where... the hell am I?" Oliver whispered, his voice cracking into a squeak.

This isn't the cultivation world? he wondered, squinting against the sensory overload. It looked more like someone had spilled a child's sugar-fueled dream across reality. Towering mountains in the distance were covered in giant lollipops instead of trees. Kernels of popcorn drifted lazily across the sky like dandelion seeds. Glittering rivers flowed through the checkerboard valleys, shimmering with unnatural beauty.

He turned in a slow circle, trying to make sense of it all.

And then he saw it—the thing he'd just burst from.

A lone egg, black and white, patterned like the very ground he stood on. It sat cracked and hollow, steam rising from its shell.

He'd hatched.

Oliver's eyes darted downward—only for something soft and fuzzy to smack him square in the face.

"Ow—what the...?" he muttered, swiping at the intruding fluff.

Two long, floppy ears flopped over his eyes like lazy curtains. He grabbed one, stared at it, and felt a chill slither down his spine.

The ears twitched—then suddenly sprang upright, reacting to his shock like twin antennae.

Heart pounding, Oliver forced himself to look down.

What he saw was not skin and bone, but smooth white fur. His arms were stubby, covered in fluff. His feet—huge, padded, rabbit-like. And his torso? A slightly rounded belly tucked into a pristine black waistcoat, with a crisp white shirt beneath and a tiny, perfectly symmetrical bowtie cinched at his throat.

He looked like a magician's assistant from a cartoon—or worse, one of those creepy mascots from an off-brand kids' show.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" he howled, voice rising a full octave.

His scream echoed through the checkerboard valley, past the floating popcorn and rivers of glitter, as giant lollipops swayed eerily in the distance.