Chapter 17: Whisper in ear.

The night had deepened.

The rain outside had lessened since evening, now a soft, scattered rustling against the windowpanes.

In the bedroom, the magical lamp had been dimmed to the faint glow of a candle flame.

The air was thick with the calming aromatherapy blend Phyllis had specially prepared—lavender mixed with some unknown sweet flower, carrying a sedative heaviness that made limbs feel weak and heavy.

Hill lay in the center of the soft, spacious bed, covered by a thick down comforter.

Thanks to the doctored fruit cordial she’d drunk earlier, her consciousness had long since sunk into the deep sea of sleep.

But this slumber was far from peaceful.

…

Kill!

Don’t fall back! The dragon’s breath is coming!

The dreamscape was a scorched, blazing battlefield.

Not the dank, moldy sewers or the musty mines.

This was a true slaughterhouse.

The sky bled crimson. A colossal black dragon blotted out the sun.

Hill—or rather, the former Rayne—stood atop mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

In her hands was not the feather-light mithril shortsword, but a hundred-jin精钢 greatsword.

Muscles screamed.

Blood burned.

“Rayne! Left flank!”

A comrade’s shout exploded beside her ear.

“I know! Stay out of my way!”

Rayne roared, swinging the massive blade with both hands.

The sensation of cleaving through bone and armor together, the bone-jarring recoil—it was terrifyingly real.

So hot.

So heavy.

But… so exhilarating!

This was what it felt like to be alive.

Not wrapped in silk and cotton, but bathed in dragon’s blood and roaring flames.

“ROOOAR!!!”

…

In reality.

Phyllis was not asleep.

She lay on her side beside Hill, one hand propping her head, the other idly twirling strands of silver hair that spilled across the pillow.

She loved this hour—monopolizing every breath Hill took, all to herself.

But tonight, something was wrong with Hill.

The usually serene sleeping face was now tightly furrowed.

Fine beads of cold sweat had formed on Hill’s forehead, dampening her bangs.

Her breathing had grown rapid and rough, laced with a ferocity Hill never showed when awake.

“Hill?”

The smile vanished from Phyllis’s lips.

She reached out, intending to wipe the sweat away with a handkerchief.

The instant her fingertip brushed Hill’s skin—

Snap!

Hill’s hand shot out from beneath the covers and clamped around Phyllis’s wrist.

The grip was shockingly strong.

Accompanied by a surge of raw, murderous killing intent.

Phyllis froze.

This was not the strength of a frail girl. This was not the attitude Hill ever directed toward her.

“…Stay back.”

Hill’s eyes remained closed. Her lips were pale. The low mutter came from deep in her throat.

Her voice was hoarse, the tone harsh and distant, carrying an icy rejection that kept the world at arm’s length.

“…If you don’t want to die… get lost.”

Phyllis’s heart clenched violently.

This didn’t sound like Hill.

The timbre was Hill’s, yes—but the tone… that tone of someone facing a mortal enemy was utterly alien, filling Phyllis with unease.

“Hill, it’s me… it’s Phyllis.”

Phyllis tried to pull her hand free, but Hill’s fingers locked like iron around her pulse point, nails digging into flesh.

“My greatsword… where’s my sword…”

Hill’s other hand clawed blindly at the air, as though searching for something that didn’t exist.

Her fingers curled into the phantom grip of a heavy blade. Arm muscles tensed. Veins faintly bulged.

“…Too light.”

Hill muttered, brows furrowing deeper, face twisted with extreme irritation and pain.

“…They all broke… useless pieces of trash…”

Watching this, an unprecedented chill crawled up Phyllis’s spine.

In the dream, where was she?

Who was she fighting?

What was that thing she was so desperately reaching for, the thing that made her wear an expression Phyllis had never seen?

Phyllis didn’t know.

From her perspective, she could only watch Hill’s soul drift away to a distant world she couldn’t reach, couldn’t interfere with.

A world without Phyllis.

A world of nothing but blood and fire, and that greatsword Hill couldn’t forget.

Jealousy—pure, corrosive venom—flooded Phyllis’s mind in an instant.

You are not allowed to go.

You are not allowed to go to places in your dreams that I don’t know.

You are not allowed to make expressions I don’t recognize.

“Hill!”

Phyllis’s gentleness vanished.

She sat up sharply, reversed her grip, pinned Hill’s thrashing shoulders, and pressed her entire body down.

“Wake up! Look at me!”

Perhaps the external pressure was too strong—the dreamscape began to fracture.

…

The black dragon vanished.

All that remained… was an endless expanse of white.

So heavy… something was pressing down on her…

Like a mountain, yet also like a soft cloud.

Hill’s eyes snapped open.

Before her was not a battlefield, but the familiar ceiling—and…

An enlarged, breathtakingly beautiful face that was slightly distorted.

Phyllis was straddling her waist, both hands pinning her shoulders hard. Golden hair cascaded down, brushing ticklishly across Hill’s face.

In those blue eyes surged dark currents Hill couldn’t comprehend.

“…Ph-Phyllis?”

Hill’s mind was still foggy.

She panted, heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst.

“What’s wrong? Enemy attack?”

“There are no enemies.”

Phyllis’s voice was cold for a moment, but she quickly drew a deep breath and forcibly suppressed the madness in her eyes.

In an instant, she became once again the gentle, reassuring vice-captain.

“Hill was having a nightmare.”

Phyllis released Hill’s shoulders and instead gently stroked her sweat-dampened cheeks.

“You were shouting… and you hurt me.”

“Hurt you?”

Hill jolted awake, guilt flooding her.

She looked at Phyllis’s wrist.

There was indeed a clear ring of bruises—finger-shaped marks.

“I’m sorry!”

Hill was suddenly much more lucid. Guilt rushed over her.

“I… I dreamed of before… no, I dreamed I was in a place full of monsters…”

She dared not mention her previous life, only speaking vaguely.

“…Before?”

Phyllis latched onto the word instantly.

Her fingers paused on Hill’s lips, gently stroking.

“It’s okay.”

Phyllis leaned down, pressing her face to Hill’s chest, listening to the gradually calming heartbeat.

“Dreams are fake.”

“But it felt so real…”

Hill was still immersed in the lingering thrill of gripping that heavy sword, feeling a strange sense of loss.

“I said—they’re fake.”

Phyllis cut her off.

Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable coercive force.

She lifted her head, cupped Hill’s face in both hands, forcing Hill to meet her gaze.

“Hill. Look at me.”

“Who is beside you right now?”

“It’s… you, Phyllis.”

“That’s enough.”

Phyllis drew closer. Warm breath brushed Hill’s lips.

“Forget that dream. Forget that sword. Forget that world of nothing but slaughter.”

“Here is safe. I will protect you. You don’t need those heavy things.”

As she spoke, she slipped her hand under the covers and took the hand that had been grasping at empty air.

Fingers interlocked.

Tight. No gaps.

“Do you feel it? This is my warmth.”

Phyllis guided Hill’s hand and pressed it to her own chest.

“This is reality.”

Hill looked into Phyllis’s eyes—so focused they were almost devout.

In that deep blue ocean, the smoke of battlefields, the roar of dragons, the heroism of a past life…

All of it seemed to fade, growing hazy and distant.

Until only one thing remained…

The soft, sweet girl before her who depended on her with her entire being.

“…Mm.”

Hill felt a profound exhaustion.

Her mind had been torn between two worlds—inevitably drained.

She returned Phyllis’s grip, her gaze softening once more.

“Sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s okay.”

Phyllis smiled victoriously.

“Sleep now, Hill. No more nightmares this time.”

“I’ll… always, always be guarding you in your dreams.”

“Mm…”

Hill closed her eyes.

Just before sinking fully into sleep, she vaguely felt Phyllis’s fingertips lightly tracing something on her forehead.

Cool. A little ticklish.

…

Phyllis had cast a Memory Blur spell.

It was only a low-grade trick—couldn’t erase memories, but it could make dream content fade like mist upon waking.

That so-called “past”… didn’t need to be so clear.

All you need to remember is me.

Phyllis gazed at Hill, now sleeping peacefully with smoothed brows, eyes burning with intensity.