A Dream Escape
Chapter 3

She had heard that permanent slumber was usually the result of a drug addiction or some kind of accident, like a heavy blow to the head. She spoke slowly, trying to remember.

“Ah… I have heard of people with symptoms like that.”

“Yes. The physician says it’s a coma,” the man said.

I’ve never done a job like this.

Sonidor sipped her tea, pondering. There would be no risk of someone seeking vengeance later, and it seemed she would get paid handsomely. This person seemed pretty rich, so perhaps she could ask for many times her usual rate—the call of money was strong.

“If you spoke to a physician, do you know why this person is unconscious?”

“Why do you need to know that?”

“If it’s due to an external injury, my intervention won’t do any good.”

“Then everything is fine. He simply could not be woken one day and has not regained consciousness since.”

If this were true, this fell squarely in the realm of her expertise. Sonidor debated for a moment. If he passed out for no reason, the client must have been subjected to some sort of massive shock, or had a reason for not wanting to wake up.

Then all she needed to do was connect her consciousness to the client’s, then craft a dream that gave him hope. There was no guarantee of success, however. If the person was in a coma, surely there was a good reason. It wouldn’t be easy—it would take months or even years.

“This sounds like a difficult job,” she said.

“I have heard much about you. You were even able to cure Countess Bijoutier’s insomnia. If you can cure an illness that prevents a person from sleeping, surely you can do the opposite.”

The rumors have spread, have they? Sonidor blushed, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of her neck.

“We will pay any price that you ask,” the man said.

“Then I accept—”

Terry clamped a hand over her mouth and asked suspiciously, “There is no guarantee of success. Are you all right with that?”

“Yes.”

See? He says it’s all right! Sonidor thought, glaring at Terry and pulling his hand away.

“You are our last resort. We are grasping at straws here,” the man continued.

Calling her work grasping at straws hardly seemed a compliment.

A straw? I’m a straw? I know I’m better than that.

Sonidor grew glum at this snub and sipped at her tea.

“I plan to make use of every last strand of straw until it is worn, tattered, and torn,” he said. She nearly spat out her tea. “That is what I mean when I say last resort.”

What did I just hear? I assume that means he’s going to work me to the bone. So when he says he will pay me whatever I ask, it’s because he’s going to bleed me dry? Damn it…

She began to cough violently, and Terry thumped her loudly on the back. The man seemed quite satisfied with her reaction, and he took off his hood. He was a handsome middle-aged man who seemed oddly familiar. He smiled at her with chilling eyes—like those of a hawk eyeing its prey.

Sonidor and Terry stopped breathing as every muscle in their body tensed. His face seemed familiar, and so did his silhouette. The perfectly pushed-back, slightly sandy blond hair, the muscular frame that belied his age, and the shockingly cold blue eyes were all features they should have instinctively recognized. Where had they seen him? It was probably at the Founding Day Festival, the Harvest Festival, or perhaps a melee tournament—sitting on his throne in the distance.

“I would like you to wake my sleepyhead son,” said the emperor, lowering his teacup.

Their minds briefly stopped functioning.

Th-that’s the emperor. That’s the… That’s really him?

Sonidor kept on glancing at the weather outside, unable to believe it. She was in her office, meaning she was not in one of her client’s dreams. She wondered if she should just poke herself in the eyes and claim, I saw nothing! I am blind!

What is His Majesty doing here in person?

If rumors were to be believed, not only had he killed his predecessor to take the throne, but he had killed everyone else too—including his wife and vassals—because he hadn’t trusted any of them. The only person he’d spared was the gentle crown prince.

Is he still the same paranoid person?

Sonidor’s head was suddenly filled with thoughts that could have gotten her executed for contempt.

“Hmm…” the emperor hummed.

“I-I didn’t think anything!” she cried.

“This is some odd-tasting tea,” the emperor said, frowning but continuing to sip from the cup.

Terry, don’t tell me you spat in it like you do with my tea sometimes… Sonidor turned around to glare at her assistant suspiciously. Terry shook his head emphatically, as if whatever she was thinking was absurd.

The tea had an odd taste—this was true. It was both bitter and sweet, but also sour. That was because it was a cheap amalgamation of all sorts of tea leaves. They had been on sale some time ago, and she had bought them in bulk. She wasn’t like the nobles, who enjoyed their elegant tea parties and were picky about the taste.

There was no way that a member of the imperial family would enjoy this tea. However, the emperor seemed to be an exception, and kept drinking it—or perhaps doing so was somehow a silent threat.

“Can you do it?” the emperor repeated.

Since he had already exposed his identity, refusing this job would end with her head separated from her shoulders. Sonidor could not know the look she wore on her face at that moment, but she could guess.

I’m probably pale and terrified.

The emperor had only one son. As she considered that, the teacup in her hand began to quiver.

This cheap tea… Will this be my last drink on earth?

Suddenly feeling very thirsty, she gulped down the entire cup and put it back down on its saucer, her hand still shaking. The cup rattled loudly as she set it down.

“S-so His Highness has fallen into a deep slumber,” she said.

When did this happen? I haven’t heard anything of the sort!

“Perhaps the Curse of the Clansmen is about to begin anew,” the emperor said, casually bringing up events from five hundred years ago with a threatening smile.

There was a reason that meisters were disdained by the people of the empire. It had all begun five hundred years ago, when they had first been invaded. Lukan V, the emperor of Arkae at the time, had found out that the southern island home of the Desensians was rich with mana. As soon as he learned this, he gathered all the magicians he could and attacked.

They massacred the indigenous population, using the island’s ideal magical conditions against them—the lush forests burned from meteors that fell from the sky, and the remaining trees rotted or turned to dust. Blood drenched the earth, and desperate screams filled the air—it was hell on earth.

Desensia’s most powerful sorcerer, while looking upon the destruction with despair, uttered a curse powered by the rage boiling in their veins.

“You shall be born without the blessing of the heavens. You shall die but not find respite in the earth—cursed to forever wander after your death.”

Lukan V wrote this off as a desperate last-ditch effort, but the empire was soon thrown into chaos. Every single member of the imperial family was born frail. The day they became adults, they fell into a permanent sleep, which lasted until the day they died.

In the end, the imperial family of Arkae died out. The great noble families of the empire were forced to take turns selecting an emperor once a year. However, the people had seen their emperor as a god, and they harbored resentment toward the new system. They were accustomed to the absolute imperial power passed down a single bloodline. They launched a coup, demanding a new imperial family be created.

Duke Hialon, the most trusted noble at the time, changed his surname to Arkae and inherited the throne. His descendants reigned ever since. The emperor who currently ruled was also a Hialon, though the family did not go by that name anymore.

The curse seemed to end after that, but the emperor implied that perhaps the curse was back after five hundred years. Sonidor wasn’t stupid enough to miss what he really meant.

“My son has been frail of body and mind ever since he was little. He fell asleep on the day he came of age, and has not woken since. What do you think of that, as a Desensian?”

Sonidor flinched. She had never heard so much as a rumor that the crown prince was sickly.

Don’t tell me that’s classified information too? Is he telling me because he intends to kill me, anyway? Every secret he reveals seems to shorten my life.

She grew paler with every word the emperor said.

“I’m not familiar with curses…” she said.

“Don’t be absurd. I’ve heard the rumors—you cured someone of a curse,” he said.

“I wonder who spread such nonsense?” she said, smiling stiffly.

Was it true that the curse was back? If this became known, the meisters would be treated even worse. Perhaps they would even be thrown to the wolves—sacrificed as scapegoats to mitigate the people’s anger. Such was the position of the meisters in Arkae.

This is not good. Is there any way I can escape the empire entirely?

“Enough fun and games. This will be the only time I offer you my generosity.”

“In truth, there was just one time that I managed to lift a curse—though it was purely by coincidence,” she said immediately. “Do you know of dark sorcery?”

“Yes, I have heard of it. It sometimes appears in ancient texts,” the emperor said.

“It is different from normal sorcery—it’s very evil.”

She didn’t know much about dark sorcery, either. Ever since the incident five hundred years ago, the people of the empire had grown to hate sorcery of any kind, especially curses. It was illegal to learn anything about curses at all. Born and raised in the empire as she was, all that she knew had come from the lips of her fellow meisters.

“As far as I know, dark sorcery relies on the power of evil to produce curses. The curse that I lifted was of that kind.”

The client in question had come to see Sonidor in her office, telling her that they had nearly been hit by a carriage. In truth, she hadn’t known that the person was cursed from the very beginning until the end of their interactions, even though she had used her power to undo it.

Only after hearing about dark sorcery through a Sorcery Meister had she put two and two together. Perhaps it had been a curse that slowed someone down in a time of danger. The client could have died if she had intervened too late.

“I was simply lucky. To be perfectly honest, I still have no idea how I managed to do it.”

She was being as honest as she could, since there was always a chance things could go wrong. The emperor quietly listened to her speak, though the word “quiet” seemed to suit him less than anyone she’d ever met. The menacing smile that appeared from time to time made it impossible for her to read him—it made her nervous.

Don’t tell me he plans to force me to come with him to the palace?