21. Sweet Dreams
Riding the momentum and teaming up to get this far was one thing, but is this place really okay?
"Hmnya... nyanyang... nyanyanyanya..."
"Eskimo darake! What's that supposed to mean! Eskimo darake! Aaaah!"
"Suuu... hoooo... suu-haaa... kooo..."
"Nod nod, drrr rumble wagagak-."
"Um, this place..."
"Heh heh. They're all dreaming away."
Cafe Southern McBaku. The interior, styled after the Southern McBaku Dimension, is packed with people sprawled out like corpses. Of course, actual corpses are few and far between. The only ones up and about are the staff delivering menus to customers.
"We always serve our guests desserts as sweet as dreams! And dreams as sweet as desserts! That's our motto."
The cafe is filled with fluffy pillows, blankets, duvets, and comforters. The chairs are armless sofas perfect for one person to stretch out on, and the tables have rounded edges so you won't get hurt even if you roll around. The table height is just right for face-planting into a nap. It feels more like a lodging facility than a cafe.
And seeing it like this, it's even more spectacular than I imagined. Sleep-talking in such variety—it's rarer than you'd think in everyday life, so it actually feels refreshing.
"Anyway, this is the new product coming out soon."
"...It's in a can format."
"That's the cheapest and most convenient!"
Plain dream extract 80% content, nightmares 0.02%, good dreams 5%... That's not adding up to 100%. What's the rest?
"Eating raw dreams as-is would just make for a restless night, you see. We mix in a bit of sweetener and flavoring."
"Ah, I see. Got it."
Warm milk good for sleep, sweet sweeteners, a touch of coziness and warmth added in.
"Hm?"
"What do you think?"
"...Fascinating. Dreams have evolved this far."
The dream I ate in the Forest of Dreams had a luxurious flavor. A perfect storyline from start to finish, like savoring a full fine dining course. But this canned one in front of me feels different. Less ethereal, more... fun?
"Dynamic, right?"
"Ah, yes, exactly. It's like riding a rollercoaster."
Yeah. A thrilling taste, like a rollercoaster—exciting, joyful, something you want to experience again. Of course, the flavor doesn't stick precisely since it's dream-based. But it leaves you with a vague sense of 'That was a fun dream.'
"How did you...?"
"Well, tell me more of your impressions first. My explanation as the creator might bias your review."
"Fair enough... Hm..."
Another sip from the can.
"...Seven. I can taste seven flavors."
"Oh ho?"
"Introduction, development, crisis, climax... plus a bit of romance and resolution. Isn't it?"
"You said seven, though? What's the last one?"
"Soda... right?"
Yeah. Soda. Not just a refreshing plot twist, but actual soda—sugar and carbonation. Physical sweetness.
"The fizz has faded a bit, but it's like soda with the foam skimmed off..."
"Pfft! Oh my god. Someone actually guessed it. The world's a big place."
Lucy burst into such hearty laughter that there was nowhere to look. Ugh... even for a tomboyish type, this is awkward on multiple levels.
"Right on the money. The perfect combo. That final sip of physical sweetness was always the missing piece—we kept failing without it. And you nailed it right away. Impressive."
"Is that so..."
Indeed. That's the vibe. This dream beverage is an epic woven from scattered dream fragments. There are occasional artificial breaks or unrealistic bits, but the overall polish holds up against the premium dreams from the Forest of Dreams. Unlike pure-dream premium lines, this strikes a smart balance—retaining the dreamlike haze while adding practical appeal.
"What's the target price point?"
"3 pt per unit."
"...Isn't that too cheap?"
"Of course it's for bulk supply. Suggested retail is around 5 to 6 pt."
"Ah, got it."
This quality could easily fetch 10 to 15 pt.
"...Mind if I have another?"
"Go ahead."
Lucy watches me with eyes full of expectation. She wants some fresh insight, maybe. But one more sip won't change much...
Hm?
"...Incredible. No wonder that look on your face."
"So?"
"It's amazing. This will sell."
Dreams. Dreams are recharging. The dreams we'd half-forgotten since adulthood come alive again. Sure, I'm content enough with reality that I don't chase dreams anymore, but this...
"For worn-out souls, it's practically an elixir."
"Right?"
Regressors, possessors, reincarnators. System Industry's main customers. Big spenders in some ways, stingier than imagined in others. They'll gobble anything deemed "good for the body," or even junk if the direction fits. Taste and form? Irrelevant. Most prioritize performance. A bundle of premium herbs at 10 pt barely sells, but slap "Health +1, low chance of poison" on lesser ones and they'll fly at 50 or 100 pt. Though if deals drag, they ignore it entirely—too stingy with points, so they craft their own.
But no matter how many potions or mythic elixirs they brew, one thing resists healing: the mind. The spirit wears down. That fresh mindset from first gaining powers. Some regressors break after millions of loops, seeking only someone to end them. Some reincarnators get devoured by the host's lingering regrets once their will weakens. Bodies can be patched, but mind and soul? Near impossible.
"Not perfect, but... it'll definitely work."
"Right?"
In that sense, this dream drink is a true dream brew. It reinforces faint remnants, letting you dimly recapture that initial thrill. No—it's more. It restores the worn spirit. Clears the mind. Fresh energy sprouts like new flesh on wounds.
Come to think of it, I wanted to run a tofu shop as a kid. Because I loved tofu so much I wanted to eat it every day. That passion where I dug through books for recipes to make my own. It's surging back.
"Selling this cheap—do you even turn a profit?"
"Ha! You get it. Knew you would."
Lucy leaned forward with a cackle.
"It's bait. Not here to make money on this. Other stuff's more profitable."
"Bait... ah."
Come to think of it, the Lucy McBaku of the Southern McBaku clan owns multiple dream-based businesses. Saunas, hotels, resorts, sleep cafes... Dreams happen during sleep. And sleep demands the safest, coziest spots.
"After they wrap up their feats, where do they go? Where do those prime customers head?"
"Southern McBaku Dimension... right."
"Exactly. So it's not that cheap."
"Factoring in advertising, it's a steal."
The gap between a massive corp and a solo operator. Restaurant Forest of Dreams sells pretty, delicious 'tasty dreams' on the cheap. But this drink brims with dreams of revitalizing the Southern McBaku Dimension—and Lucy's own ambitions. Only 90% dream content, yet it feels twice or thrice as potent. That's the magic.
"So, wanna buy some?"
"Buy what?"
"How many for System Industry?"
"...You knew?"
"How could I not? Been waiting."
Lucy laughed heartily. Her red twin ponytails bounced wildly with each guffaw.
"Raced here the second I heard System Industry was shopping for dreams. Can't let the Northern McBaku clan lap us."
"I see."
"Owe you an apology. Initially thought of just buying you off with cash."
"With money... you say?"
"But after chatting, you're a true epicure! Can't buy that tongue with coin—it's worth hundreds, thousands times more. So I pivoted. Figured you'd see the dream's true value."
"Pleased you?"
"Pleased? Beyond! I'd beg you to taste-test every new menu forever!"
Lucy pulled a pen from her bosom. ...She keeps it there normally? Wild storage choice, on another level.
"Here's the deal: sign now, 3 pt each. This much commitment, 2.8 pt. Bigger order, down to 2.7 pt."
"Sorry, but the contract—"
"Ah, my bad. Take your time. Oh, right—take this as a sample. Passed safety inspections, all dimension-legal ingredients. Play that up!"
Lucy gazed at me with sparkling eyes, like the dreams themselves. Solid product pitch, solid appeal, solid reassurances. Moments like this remind me I chose salaryman life wisely. You need this passion to thrive in the self-employed red ocean.