Episode 03
The Dream
Lumian did not immediately climb down from the roof. His earlier expression had already been reined in. Calm and solemn now, he seemed like a different person from the playful, laughter-filled youth in the tavern.
Ever since he had accidentally learned that Aurore possessed extraordinary abilities, Lumian had always desired that power. But Aurore only told him it was not something to envy or pursue, that it was instead very dangerous and painful, and therefore she could not agree to her brother walking this path. Even if she did know a method for an ordinary person to gain transcendent power, she could not reveal it to Lumian.
Unable to force or pressure her, Lumian had no choice but to constantly try to persuade and beg for an opportunity.
After more than ten seconds, Lumian got up, strode briskly along the roof edge, then returned to the second floor via the wooden ladder.
Strolling as if on a walk, he reached Aurore’s room and, seeing the brown wooden door ajar, poked his head in to look.
Aurore, dressed in a comfortable navy blue dress, was sitting at the desk by the window, engrossed in writing something under the bright lamp.
What is she writing at this hour? Something related to magic?
Lumian, leaning on the doorframe, joked:
“Writing a diary?”
“Who among normal people writes a diary?”
Aurore didn’t even lift her head, continuing to write something with the exquisite champagne-gold fountain pen in her hand.
Lumian didn’t back down.
“Emperor Rochelle left behind an enormous volume of diaries.”
Rochelle was the last emperor in the history of the Intis Republic where the siblings now lived. Ending the rule of the Solon royal family, he rose from Consul to Caesar, then declared himself Emperor. He not only invented many important things, including the steam engine, discovered sea routes to the southern continent, and ignited the colonial craze, but was also a symbol of his era over a century ago. Unfortunately, betrayed in his later years, he was assassinated in White Maple Palace in Trier. After his death, several volumes of his diaries were passed down, written in a script undecipherable by others and nonexistent anywhere else in the world.
“So Rochelle wasn’t normal.”
Aurore, with her back to Lumian, scoffed.
“Then what are you writing?”
Lumian pressed on eagerly.
That was what he truly wanted to know.
“A letter.”
Aurore replied nonchalantly.
“To whom?”
Lumian unconsciously frowned.
Aurore stopped the champagne-gold fountain pen with its intricately carved floral pattern and began checking the words and sentences she had written.
“To a pen pal.”
“Pen pal?”
A dazed expression appeared on Lumian’s face.
What’s that?
Aurore burst out laughing, then brushed her golden hair behind her ear and lectured her brother.
“See, I told you to read more newspapers and books. Don’t just wander around drinking all day! Look at you, how are you any different from being illiterate? A ‘pen pal’ refers to a friend made through newspaper columns, periodicals, and such. Someone you’ve never met in person but communicate with via letters.”
“What’s the point of such a friend?”
Lumian was quite bothered by the concept of a pen pal. Unconsciously withdrawing his hand from the doorframe, he stroked his chin. Aurore had never had a boyfriend. Lumian couldn’t let her be fooled by some guy she’d never even seen.
“The point?”
Aurore pondered seriously.
“For one, there’s emotional value. Okay, you probably don’t know what emotional value is either. Humans are social animals. That means we need interaction. But there are things and feelings in the world you can’t tell the villagers, nor can you tell me. For venting such things, a secret channel like a pen pal you’ve never even seen is unmatched. Secondly, pen pals are not to be underestimated. Among my pen pals, there are some truly remarkable figures, and some exceptionally erudite ones. This lamp that runs on batteries was also sent by one of my pen pals. Kerosene lamps or candles aren’t good for the eyes, so they’re not suitable for writing in the evening……”
She waved her left hand back and forth behind her before Lumian could ask again.
“Go to bed soon, my little drunkard brother! Sleep well!”
“Alright, good night.”
Lumian, though reluctant, didn’t press further.
Aurore’s instruction followed.
“Don’t forget to close my door on your way out. It gets a bit chilly with both the door and window open.”
Lumian slowly closed the brown wooden door.
Step by step, he returned to his room, took off his shoes, and sat on the bed. The room was dim. The wooden desk by the window, the slanted chair, the small bookcase against the side wall, and the wardrobe on another wall entered Lumian’s view at a glance.
Sitting quietly, he sank into thought.
He had always known Aurore had her own secrets, that there were many things she couldn’t tell him. So that in itself wasn’t surprising. However, Lumian was worried those secrets might put Aurore in danger. Moreover, if something really happened, there were limits to what he could do. Lumian was just an ordinary person with a somewhat sturdy body and quick wits.
Various thoughts rose and fell. Lumian sighed quietly, left the bed, went to the bathroom for a quick wash, then took off his brown jacket-style coat and threw himself under the still-unwarmed covers.
The weather in the mountain village in late March, early April was still quite chilly.
✧ ✧ ✧
In a hazy, drowsy state, Lumian seemed to see gray fog.
Fog filled his surroundings, making distant things completely invisible.
Lumian walked dazedly. But no matter which direction he moved through the gray fog, or how far he went, the place he ultimately reached was always the same.
His bedroom.
The bed covered with a white bedding set, the wooden desk and chair by the window, the bookcase, the wardrobe—the bedroom.
✧ ✧ ✧
Huu.
Lumian’s eyes snapped open.
The early morning sunlight, not too strong, pierced through the not-too-thick navy blue curtains, illuminating about half of his bedroom.
Sitting up, Lumian stared blankly at the scene. It felt as if he were still dreaming.
That dream again.
The gray fog dream that seemed like it would never disappear.
Raising a hand to rub his temples firmly, he muttered to himself.
It’s getting more frequent lately. Almost every night…
If this dream didn’t come without negative effects, Lumian certainly wouldn’t have been so calm. Of course, that didn’t mean there were any positive effects from the dream either.
“I wish there was some good opportunity hidden in this dream…”
Muttering, Lumian got down from the bed.
Just as he opened his door and reached the hallway, he could hear some sound coming from Aurore’s room.
Perfect timing.
A slight smile bloomed on Lumian’s face.
Feeling a sudden impulse, he took a step back and stood by the edge of his door.
Then, as Aurore’s bedroom door opened, he quickly raised his right hand, pressing firmly on his temple, putting on a slightly pained expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Aurore asked, seeing the sight.
Success!
Lumian cheered inwardly, pretending to try to recover.
“I had that dream again.”
His voice as he answered was also very subdued.
Worry gradually clouded Aurore’s brow, her blonde hair hanging loose.
“The method from last time isn’t working…”
After a moment of thought, she continued.
“Maybe we should find a hypnotist. A real hypnotist might be able to figure out why you’re having such dreams.”
“A hypnotist with… extraordinary abilities?”
Lumian asked deliberately.
Aurore nodded in response.
“One of your pen pals?”
Lumian couldn’t help but press on.
“Why do you care about that? You should be thinking about how to solve your own problem!”
Aurore shot back without answering his question.
I’m thinking about it right now!
Lumian muttered inwardly.
At the same time, he pressed his advantage:
“Aurore, if I become a mystic and gain transcendent power, I’ll be able to uncover the secret of the nightmare and end it completely.”
“Don’t even think about that!”
Aurore retorted without a moment’s hesitation.
Her expression softened as she continued.
“Lumian, this is no lie. This path is filled with danger and pain. If there were other options, if the world weren’t becoming increasingly dangerous, I would have gladly lived as an ordinary writer, living happily.”
Lumian blurted out:
“Then let me bear that danger and pain for you. While I protect you, you can do what you want and live happily.”
Words he had said countless times in his heart.
After two seconds of silence, Aurore suddenly laughed.
“Are you underestimating me because I’m a woman?”
She didn’t give Lumian a chance to explain further, her expression turning serious.
“Enough. Once you choose this path, there’s no chance for regret. Alright, I’m going to wash up now. You study hard at home today. You need to prepare for the unified high school entrance exam in June!”
“You said the world is becoming more dangerous, so why bother with exams?”
Lumian grumbled.
In his opinion, the most important thing now wasn’t taking exams but gaining power.
Aurore laughed.
“Knowledge is power, my illiterate little brother.”
Speechless, Lumian could only watch as Aurore headed to the bathroom.
✧ ✧ ✧
Afternoon, Cordu Village Square.
Raymond Clark spotted Lumian Lee lost in unknown thoughts under the distant elm tree.
“Shouldn’t you be studying at home?”
Raymond’s tone held clear envy as he approached.
Lumian’s friend was about 170 centimeters tall, with brown hair and brown eyes. His ordinary-looking face was ruddy with the flush of alcohol.
Lifting his head, Lumian said with a laugh:
“Didn’t Aurore teach you that no matter how urgent things are, you still need to catch your breath? I’ve been studying for a long time, I need a break.”
He had spent the morning constantly pondering whether he could indeed obtain transcendent power through Aurore. To get that answer, he needed proactive investigation, exploration, and clues. After thinking it over, Lumian concluded that there might be some truth and clues hidden in the village’s circulating tales of extraordinary power, which was why he had specifically sought out Raymond.
“If I were you, my break would be at most fifteen minutes.”
Raymond leaned against the elm tree and mumbled.
“None of us have a sister who’s read enough books to teach us. I have to learn how to herd sheep next year.”
Ignoring that remark, Lumian said with a face that seemed lost in thought:
“Tell me that story about the mystic again.”
Unaware of Lumian’s intent, Raymond, puzzled, tried to recall.
“Story about a mystic? Long ago, a mystic who lived in the village died. On the day they were going to bury him, an owl flew in from outside and perched on top of the bed. It only flew away after the body was moved outside. After that, the coffin became incredibly heavy. It took nine oxen to finally move it.”
“How long ago is ‘long ago’?”
When Lumian probed, Raymond’s expression grew even more bewildered.
“How would I know? I heard it from my father too.”
