A Dream Escape
Chapter 2

Terry was Sonidor’s assistant. He usually accepted jobs on her behalf, spoke to clients, and watched over her as she went about her job. Since he was always by her side providing whatever support she needed, he was used to situations like this. He knew everything about her that would be considered useless to anyone else—like which part of her arms and legs needed to be massaged to get them moving again quickly.

Unlike Sonidor, who was a meister, Terry was a commoner. He had been born an orphan in a slum. As a child, he had no name—people just referred to him as “you” or “boy.” He had first met Sonidor ten years ago when he was seven, and she was twelve. She had discovered Terry wandering about and begging for food after losing his mother in a random carriage accident.

She had given him a piece of bread, but he’d begun to follow her about like a puppy. She chose to call him Terry because he followed her like a tail. This seemed like incredible wordplay at the time, though in hindsight, the connection between “tail” and “Terry” was tenuous at best.

He refused to stop following her ever since, eventually offering to be her assistant. However, Sonidor wasn’t the nurturing type, and sometimes, Terry wondered if he was the one who had raised her, and not the other way around. She always claimed triumphantly that she had saved him, but he would always respond coolly, “You mean you enslaved me with the promise of bread.”

She groaned as he pressed down on her stiff arms. Unlike most other meisters, Sonidor always ended up rather worse for wear after using her power. Terry supposed it must be very energy-consuming to share a dream with somebody else.

“Stay still. It’ll hurt even more if you move suddenly.”

“Be gentle… Please…” She groaned and complained like a granny.

She finally managed to get out of her chair with some difficulty. The muscles in her arms and legs had slightly loosened up by now, and she swung them around, causing her joints to crack. Gathering her things, she stared at the gloomy sky. Lefonz, the client, was still deeply asleep. Perhaps he was finally having the time of his life with Lady Lyla in his dream.

“So he paid already, right? What’s the time?” she asked.

Terry produced a watch from his pocket and whistled.

“Six. Going home on the dot for a change.”

“That’s good, but Terry,” she said, pausing to give him a grave look. “I’m hungry.”

“Of course you are. You haven’t eaten all day. That means I didn’t get to eat, either.”

Sonidor smiled apologetically, then gently tousled his hair like he was a child.

“This job was only meant to be securing a confession. I didn’t know it would take this long. You’re hungry, right? What would you like to eat?” she asked.

“Must have been nice, being told you’re loved and all. Your assistant just sat here all day like a rock,” he said glumly.

Sonidor’s smile rapidly twisted into a scowl.

What did you just say? Her hand suddenly formed a fist and slammed into his forehead. Terry groaned quietly, pressing his hand to his now aching head.

“Does my work seem fun to you? Taking a client’s hand and slumping over the table seems like a walk in the park, huh?”

“Don’t be so touchy.”

“The clients complain to me, not you. I do my best, and they always question if I gave them their money’s worth, if I cheated them, or if they simply dreamed what they wanted by themselves. It’s a wonder I’m not crankier than I am.”

“Oh, come on. Is that what set you off again? It’s hardly the first time, is it?”

Not receiving any acknowledgment for the only ability she had made her rather miserable. Besides, she was providing a solid service, too. Though she had suffered all sorts of unjust discrimination and disdain because of her meister status, what Sonidor could not bear was anyone doubting her ability.

Terry consoled her, reminding her how that sort of person would make life hard for anyone. She stared glumly at him as he shrugged. She then promptly decided what they would have for dinner without consulting him—a multi-course meal of roasted fish, the sort he hated the most.

*

Sonidor’s office was quite noisy.

“We don’t engage in that sort of disgusting work,” said Terry, the assistant who was in charge of sundry tasks. He was all but growling. In front of him was a vicious-looking man who wore a scowl and looked ready to pounce on him. Terry didn’t seem at all intimidated by his malevolent energy.

“You can’t talk to a customer like that! Did working for a lowly meister deprive you of your sense of propriety?” the man demanded.

“You’re one to talk. If you want to bed a woman, go see a prostitute,” Terry shot back.

“Do you think I would sleep with just any woman? I want to sleep with the love of my life—Sophia from the flower shop!”

“Look, I understand wet dreams are rare at your age, but I’ve told you multiple times that we don’t do that sort of thing. Please don’t insult our business any further.”

“What did you just say to me, kid?”

“What the hell is this about?” Sonidor asked, scratching her head.

She was coming out of a small room from deep within the office after having just woken up. She had fallen asleep without changing her clothes, so they were now wrinkled, and her hair was tied in a messy ponytail. She rubbed her eyes, yawning loudly. Then she noticed the man seated arrogantly on the sofa. She stared at him silently for a moment, then looked at Terry. The glance was enough to communicate to her assistant what she was thinking.

Who the hell is that? Her eyes darted slightly.

Just a garbage client we don’t want. Want me to chase him away? Terry rolled his eyes a bit and jerked them away.

Sonidor contemplated her next move. If this was a client, it might not be a good idea to chase him out without giving it some thought—she didn’t want any unpleasant backlash. She cocked her head to the side as she thought, and the man looked her up and down with a nasty grin. She was rather unkempt-looking thanks to her nap, but still quite pretty. The man had heard that most meisters were average-looking, at least.

Terry easily sensed the lascivious direction the man’s thoughts had taken, and quickly came to a decision.

I’m going to throw him out the window.

There was a jingle as new visitors entered the office—four shady-looking men wearing dark clothes with hoods pulled over their faces. It was obvious these men weren’t their normal clientele. The tension in the air amplified.

Damn it, what a fine start to the day.

Sonidor was about to ask the men who had just come in to wait for a moment, but they abruptly disposed of the unpleasant client by carrying him out like a piece of luggage. She and Terry stared in surprise as the man was removed from the premises as quickly as he had come in.

“Wh-what the hell? Who the hell are you people? You have no right to do this to me!” he screamed as he was dragged out.

Two of the hooded men disappeared with him in the blink of an eye, leaving the other two behind.

What just happened? Sonidor couldn’t gather her thoughts.

“Uh… Thank you, I guess?” she said.

“It seems like he was bothering you, so I got rid of him. I’m glad I could be of assistance,” said one of the men with a voice so low it made her shudder.

If they had gotten rid of the man as soon as they’d come in, it meant they had been listening to the goings-on in the office. Were they magicians or meisters capable of eavesdropping? Sonidor shivered, rubbing at the goosebumps that had formed on her legs. Perhaps this man was from an unsavory line of business, judging from the way his voice gave her such chills.

She inspected them dubiously, then offered them a seat for the moment. She asked Terry to bring some tea. He also gazed at them suspiciously before standing up.

“Don’t be alarmed. We’re only here to give you a job,” said the man with the scary voice, flopping onto the sofa.

Dust rose into the air like spring pollen and floated gently about him. The stranger was silent for a long moment—his eyes seemed to ask when the last time she had cleaned the sofa was. Sonidor looked away awkwardly and sat down opposite him.

She usually collapsed into her bed and slept like a log for a couple of days after every job, and when she woke, another job would usually be waiting for her. The cleaning naturally fell to Terry, so this was not her fault.

I’m always busy. Bad Terry! Lazy Terry!

The other man stood silently behind the sofa, guarding the first.

Perhaps the other man is a vassal, or maybe a hired hand.

Sonidor tried surmising, quickly glancing between the both of them. Unlike the unpleasant man earlier, these two seemed to be of high rank—which meant they had money. She swiftly re-tied her messy hair and sat up straight.

“Are you the Dream Meister?” the seated man asked.

“Yes, I am. You’ve come to the right place. My establishment boasts a one hundred percent success rate!” she said triumphantly.

“You seem to have been sleeping quite soundly. Apologies,” he said, tapping his cheek. There was a red mark left on her face because she’d been sleeping with it smashed into her pillow.

Sonidor was forced to look away again in embarrassment. The client seemed to think she was a lazy person, but for her, sleep was indispensable. This all felt rather unfair. Taking no notice of her discomfit, he began by threatening her.

“First, I must warn you. If you speak of this job to anyone, your head won’t remain on your shoulders for long, I’m afraid.”

Fancy way of saying you’ll kill me if I talk.

She was used to this sort of threat, and just nodded casually. Maintaining secrecy was one of the most basic tenets of her trade—though that depended on the job.

“I’d also like to tell you something upfront. I am selective about the jobs I take. Jobs that require me to harm a person’s mind or extract secrets are unacceptable, I’m afraid. I also need physical contact with the client to utilize my power to its full extent. Usually, that means holding hands.”

She held up her hands, which were smaller than average. Essentially, she was explaining that she would not take any jobs that could put her in danger.

The man stared at her hands, which had seemingly been introduced to the conversation out of nowhere, and said, “Physical contact might not be the most desirable condition, but I suppose there is no helping it.”

Terry, who had been providing background noise in the form of clinking cups in the kitchen, returned with a tray of tea. The man took his cup smoothly.

“You are being tasked with saving someone.”

“Saving someone? Can you tell me more?”

“Can you wake someone who has fallen into a permanent slumber?”