A Dream Escape
Chapter 1

If one summed up Sonidor’s attitude toward life in a single word, it would be aptly described as acceptance. Or perhaps resignation—resignation to the absurdities of her life. Simply put, it went something along the lines of, F*ck it, whatever. Struggling won’t change a thing. Since birth, she had been deprived of many rights afforded to everyone else. Her circumstances could not be changed by getting angry or complaining.

She was a member of the Desensia Clan by birth, and her given name was different from the one she went by. She’d inherited her birth name from her mother, and it meant Dreams Made of Golden Rays. Sonidor was simply a slapdash translation of that name in the imperial tongue.

That was the first thing she had been deprived of. All Desensians were forced to change their names to fit in better within the empire. In the imperial tongue, Sonidor simply meant, Good night! Sweet dreams! Or something similar.

Anyone from the empire who heard her name for the first time would grin about how silly it sounded. They would commonly call out her name when parting ways with her at night, laughing as if it was an incredibly humorous thing to say. She never found any humor in the terrible joke, no matter how many dozens of times she heard it.

Imperial law forbade the Desensian Clansmen from inheriting a last name. This was a discriminatory law that had existed ever since the Arkae Empire had trampled the land of Desensia five centuries ago. Since they had no surname, no Desensian clansmen could ever attain status higher than a commoner—no incredible contribution to the empire would ever change that. Becoming a noble was impossible, pure, and simple. In addition, they were forbidden from ever leaving imperial territory.

The Desensians had originally resided on a vast island in the far south, with a temperate climate that spanned the whole year and boasted plenty of marine resources and mana. There was so much that the island could have been accurately described as a mana reservoir. After invading the island five hundred years ago, the emperor of Arkae called it Mana Island.

It was land blessed by the gods. The island’s indigenous people had formed a single large tribe, and the mana that enriched the land gifted every generation with special powers. The strength of these powers differed for each individual—some could bend metal or read the memories of people or objects. Some could manipulate wind, while others could predict the future. Most of these abilities were passed down to one’s children, and unlike magic, did not require the use of mana.

These powers were not nearly as strong or far-ranging as area-of-effect spells, but not requiring mana meant they could be used infinitely as long as a Desensian was not too tired. Some even had special powers that could not be interfered with by magic.

Accepting them as citizens would have caused too much backlash. However, the Densensians were a resource too valuable to just throw away. In the end, the emperor gave them the status of “meister,” instead of recognizing them as citizens. They could own private property, but could never receive a title or surname no matter what contribution they made to the country—they existed somewhere between slaves and commoners. They were better off than slaves, but most commoners regarded them with disdain.

Sonidor was a Dream Meister—she could connect her mind to a sleeping person’s and craft new dreams. If only in their dreams, she generally enabled people to hear the last will and testament of those who were dying of old age, or helped people achieve unreachable goals. Sometimes she received more dangerous jobs, like requests to extract classified information, but her assistant always promptly turned those down.

*

Sonidor was in the middle of another job. She currently had the strong urge to smack her client over the head.

“I-I-I… I mean… I always…”

This was the second time she’d tried that day. Gritting her teeth, she told herself to be patient. She had lost count of all the times she had resolved to be so. There were sometimes jobs that could not be completed successfully in one go, but it was rare that any job required more than two attempts. Based on the way this client was acting, however, it seemed that she was going to need at least three tries.

“Th-th-the sunset is beautiful, Lady Lyla,” the client said.

I’m going to have to charge extra for this. Sonidor’s eye twitched with annoyance as the man before her changed the subject once again. She looked up and noticed that the cobalt sky was rapidly turning blood-red, like a drop of paint spreading upwards. This meant that her target would wake up soon.

If the ground was the realm of the client, the sky was hers. She gazed at the hazy sunset. The less focused she became, the more likely it was for imperfections to occur in the sky. Day turned suddenly to night, or snow fell in the middle of summer—things like that. There were no specific rules or forms when it came to dreams, and it was not easy to predict how these sorts of aberrations might manifest.

Perhaps it was time for him to eat.

Or does he need to go to the bathroom?

It was always bodily functions such as these which got in the way. The sky clouded over and thunder suddenly rumbled overhead.

I assume that means he’s hungry.

“There’s thunder in the sky!” the client exclaimed suddenly, much to her frustration.

People often said a man never forgot his first love until his dying day. Sonidor hadn’t ever given much thought to this until today. She had never really properly dated anyone, swamped as she was with work. The idea of a first love had meant nothing to her until today, but this man’s dying wish was to confess his feelings to his first love at least once.

Is it really that important?

Maybe because she wasn’t a man, she found the sentiment very hard to understand.

Regardless, I accepted the job for the money. All that aside, why can’t you just tell her already?

It was obvious to her that this man’s inability to express his feelings was why he’d never been with a woman. Stressed to her limit, she mentally spat a litany of silent curses. However, she had put in too much effort to give up now, and wanted to try whatever she could before the client woke.

Come on, Sonidor, think! Think of something that will get this man to talk!

She adopted a very obviously disappointed expression and said, “Lefonz, I was looking forward to hearing what you had to tell me. You said there was something urgent. I must admit, I’m disappointed.”

“L-L-Lady Lyla, that’s not…”

The Lefonz in the dream was not an old man in his seventies, but instead the twenty-two-year-old man who had met Lyla for the first time. Lyla was the woman whom he had harbored unrequited feelings for. She had been the daughter of a count and from a prestigious family, and Lefonz had been their gardener—meaning she was completely out of his class.

Sonidor was currently assuming her appearance. She could look like a woman she had never seen in her life because Sonidor could turn into anyone the client desperately desired to see inside a dream. It didn’t have to be a person, actually, but she had never encountered a case where it wasn’t.

She played with her fingertips and said, “Is that all you have to say to me, Lefonz? What if this is to be our last meeting?”

“Our last meeting? Lady Lyla, what do you mean?”

Tears glistened in Sonidor’s eyes as she gazed down at the ground. If he could see her now, Terry would have said she’d lost her mind, but nobody could interfere in the dream except herself and the client.

“Lefonz, I… I’ve always…”

The client’s gaze was trembling violently. Of course, he was taken aback. The lady he had always watched from afar now seemed to be about to confess to him. She understood how he felt, but all he had to do now was take the final step. She had done everything else for him. It was nearly driving her out of her mind.

“Lefonz, are you going to force me to say it first?” she said, hugging the flowers he had given her earlier and looking up at him, fluttering her eyelashes.

Sonidor was being blatantly coquettish, but Lefonz failed to notice. His face was turning a bright red. His lips finally moved.

Now! Now’s the time to do it!

She stared at the sky, feeling slightly anxious. The clouds had split, and between them a rift was visible. It was like a crack slowly splitting open the sky—this world was falling apart. They had no more time.

As if reading her mind, he clamped his eyes shut and said, “I-I love you! I always have. Ever since I saw you the first time, which was a long time ago, I’ve always…”

Sonidor sighed with relief. The job was finally done, and it seemed they had made it just in time. Her task had been to allow him to confess his feelings to his first love. This was as far as she needed to go. The sky had turned completely dark, and it was about to drop on her head.

She took Lefonz’s hand gently. She didn’t need to do so, but it was her way of thanking him for showing her such a beautifully colorful world. The garden in his mind was beautiful—the way the flowers grew and intermingled with each other, and the elegant, warm colors immediately jumped out at the eye. It seemed that the mind of a former gardener could do some amazing things. She had once taken a job from a famous artist, and the world she had seen then had been very impressive too. She would have captured it in a painting if she could.

“Thank you. I’ve never forgotten you,” she said as Lady Lyla.

They were in a lovely garden filled with flowers, and the feelings for his first love that he’d never forgotten had been expressed—not only that, but they had been reciprocated. The assurance that she had completed the job well brought a smile to her lips. Her narrowing vision soon turned completely dark.

*

Her mind slowly floated toward wakefulness. Her senses returned gradually, bringing with them incredible muscular pain and a roaring headache—it felt like death. If she’d done this three times in the same day, she probably would have been out for at least two days.

She wiggled her toes, which were tingling wildly, and slowly opened her eyes. She was gripping her client’s hand so hard it was sweaty. She never liked the idea of taking a stranger’s hand, but physical contact was essential to enter their mind. She sighed heavily and waited until she could move properly. Then cramps seized her entire body.

Groaning loudly, she complained, “Oh god! Hey! Terry! Damn it, I’m dying here!”

The boy who had been nodding off in a chair nearby jumped to his feet at her yell. It took him a moment to regain his balance, only for him to immediately trip over himself and tumble to the floor.

Are you kidding me? You’re no better than the client.

A hand pressed to his red nose, he hovered around Sonidor.

“Is it finished? No overtime today?” he asked.

“That’s all you care about, right? Can’t you see I’m in pain?”

“Obviously. I care about nothing else.”

“If you don’t do your job properly, I’m going to deduct your pay. Help me up already!”

“Odd. Are you sure you can’t move? Your tongue is certainly far from paralyzed,” he said impertinently as he patiently began to massage her arm.