Chapter 5: Nightmare
It was late at night, and the corridor was silent. Iaar held a lantern, standing in the empty hallway. As a canine kin with a healthy schedule of early to bed and early to rise, she had already changed into her pajamas and was feeling drowsy, rubbing her eyes, her voice soft.
“Iaar just finished copying the book and came out to use the restroom. I saw Young Master… yawn… the light was still on here…”
“Ah, I’ll go to bed after I finish reading this letter.”
“Last time, Young Master… yawn… you said the same thing… and then you fell asleep on the desk when you woke up in the morning. Don’t stay up late… Iaar is worried.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m still young, I won’t die until it’s time.”
Will thought to himself, he was already pushing thirty and staying up late back then. Now that his body was only in its teens, shouldn’t he push himself?
“Um… that doesn’t sound quite right. Then, Young Master… Good niiight~?”
As Iaar spoke, she seemed to have other thoughts and gently closed the door. Will returned to his desk.
Interpreting the ancient texts themselves was not difficult. The characters were largely understandable, though some missing words and phrases needed to be guessed. It was strange that in this world, the written language and spoken language seemed to have changed very little from hundreds of years ago. Of course, Will didn’t expect a piece of trash paper to be realistic in its setting. As he read, he jotted down simple spells and procedures on a draft paper, analyzing their meanings in his mind.
Extreme Flame Meteor was actually a basic-level spell in ancient flame magic. Witches who specialized in ancient magic even used it as a slightly longer-winded basic attack. However, this piece of trash paper followed the common setting of “the older, the stronger,” so as long as it could be cast, it would be stronger than modern magic.
“First, apply the catalyst to the circular object? Then… hmm, the incantation is like this… good…”
“The catalyst requires such a low temperature?”
“Hmm, is the magic being activated ancient magic? Its modern substitute is…”
Muttering to himself, Will began to feel drowsy, watching the candlelight before him blur little by little.
This was a “Nightmare” that had not yet occurred in this world—
In the flames, the same color as the candlelight before him, brown-gray beast ears swayed along with the fire. Dressed in a maid outfit, she stood unsteadily but resolutely. Her body bore alternating burns and frostbite; she was not skillfully using Ice Armor Infusion, which would cause such a phenomenon when facing monsters far beyond her abilities.
Before her stood the colossal Fire Dragon, whose strength far surpassed hers—the final BOSS on the 50th floor of the “Apex of the Galaxy” dungeon, the Fire Dragon Al. She panted, tried to stand up, but stumbled and knelt down, her white stockings smudged with ash. The Fire Dragon’s shadow engulfed her entire being. Its massive claw slammed down beside her, and she didn’t even have a suitable weapon in her hand. She was struck by the shockwave and sent flying.
“Waaah… waaaah… I’m sorry… I’m truly sorry… I… I shouldn’t have done this…”
“I-I’m sorry… Xiu, I… I should have stood up for you before you were bullied every time… woo…”
She lay on her side on the ground, but still tried to straighten herself and looked towards the shadow on the dragon’s back.
“Can you come back? You… you were so strong…”
“Everyone at Shining Star misses you so much…”
“I… I miss you too—”
“If you come back, I… I can make you tea every afternoon… and bake small cakes for you…”
“If they scold you again, I’ll speak up for you…”
But beside him, clinging tightly, was a little dragon girl. The little dragon girl’s dragon ears brushed his cheeks, and her dragon tail swept across his back.
“I don’t want to kill you, and I’m not going back. Surrender.”
The shadow on the dragon’s back completely ignored Iaar’s words, coldly uttered a sentence, turned around, embraced the dragon girl’s arm, and left.
“Waaah… did I lose after all?”
Possessing the same inhuman “ears” and “tail,” she had still lost, lost so miserably, covered in wounds amidst the high-temperature flames left by the Fire Dragon. She hugged her bruised and battered arm, kneeling on the ground, her tail, singed at the tip, pressed against the ground; she trembled, tears falling one by one onto the ground, only to evaporate the moment they touched the scorching surface; her wolf ears, once perky, drooped limply, with scabs.
“Xiu… I know I was wrong. You… you don’t leave… From now on… from now on, I will… I will always be on your side… I won’t listen to them anymore…”
Her injuries worsened, until the burnt skin fell to the ground as dust. She trembled more violently, until the armor on her shoulder slowly slipped off. She cried more heartbrokenly, until her sobs made her words incoherent. Will gazed at the small, helpless figure in the flames. He remembered this scene; it was the scene from the fairy tale he had told Iaar. Because that piece of trash paper was particularly excessive, it thoughtfully included illustrations for each of the original teammates’ failures. This scene, where the beastkin maid was brutally killed by the dragon girl loli in the firelight, was depicted from Iaar’s back—the burnt tail, the trembling shoulders, the drooping beast ears. And the ethereal, distant figure on the dragon’s back, no longer reachable. It was no exaggeration to call her a super, ultimate loser. Well, this firelight was quite similar to a cremation site.
“Iaar…” Will felt heartbroken. Even though, as an “entertainer outside the story,” he shouldn’t have felt so heartbroken. In the original work, every loser who failed to win the protagonist’s heart, when they cried over their heartbreak, it was always the readers’ happiest moment. After all, who wouldn’t want the pleasure of watching someone else’s pursuit end in a burning funeral? “You ignored me in the past, but now you can’t afford to reach me,” right? Moreover, the male protagonist always had a new favorite who was better, stronger, and loved him more. Seeing this scene back then would only evoke pity mixed with a sense of “serves you right,” wouldn’t it?
But… this was the clingy and well-behaved little maid who had been by his side for over a decade. The little maid who, late at night, would hold a lantern, knock on his door, and then yawn while telling him to sleep early because health was most important. The little maid who, in the afternoon, would sit in the garden, listen to him lecture, and then diligently write down every word he said in her notebook. The little maid who, in the morning, would train after waking up, fool around with him, and then, when he had free time, serve him a cup of freshly brewed black tea.
“Iaar—!”
“Iaar—!”
“Iaar!!!”
Will reached out, crossing the flames, and grabbed Iaar’s trembling shoulder.
“Y-y-y-y-y-young Master?!”
He hadn’t crossed the illustration as a “soul” in his dream, but… in reality, he was tightly gripping the wrist of Iaar, who was wearing a velvet nightgown. She held a thick blanket, and the desk lamp made her face glow red. And she appeared five or six years younger than the Iaar in the dream.
“Was it a nightmare? Oh, right… I knew it from the beginning. Phew… I got a little too invested…”
Will looked up, at Iaar holding the blanket.
“But, Iaar, why are you here?”
