Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: The Dreaming Girl
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- Mom. Mom!
“Hah!”
In a tent on the southern front lines, the lord of Sneria's territory bolted upright in her bed.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel beside the bed and took a sip of water to soothe her parched throat.
The nightmare's backdrop was an incident from a hundred years ago.
A noble who had shattered a happy family for mere amusement.
In that empire where might made right and justice, the noble faced no punishment.
So the girl took up arms.
Not just against that noble, but against a world that tolerated such lords.
To prove that a society where the weak need not fear—governed by law and promises, not power and status—could exist.
Under that conviction, she avenged herself on the noble, witnessed the empire's fall with her own eyes, and governed her territory.
Once Sneria's lands became the kingdom's most prosperous domain, the nightmares finally ceased.
Thus, she believed she had overcome her past.
Until this horrific war began.
- Sister, where's Mom?
Starting with those innocent words from the pure-hearted girl she barely rescued from a burning village, her long-forgotten trauma resurfaced.
As if paying compounded interest over time, the nightmares returned fiercer than ever.
- A soft lord...
- That's not befitting a ruler.
The nightmares always ended with an old man's cold gaze upon her.
Her exchange with Peter.
He had deemed her attitude unfit for a lord.
One swayed by duty could not lead the people.
The old man had rebuked her as such.
In the end, he joined her faction, but it wasn't true loyalty.
Amid endless opportunities, she had accidentally hit the right answer first, but it wasn't even her sincere response.
- “A lord... must become someone the people aspire to.”
Aspiration.
She had aspired to others her whole life but never imagined herself as an object of aspiration.
Her idol stood at such unattainable heights that she couldn't even dream of standing shoulder to shoulder.
Yet she had answered that she would become a lord who inspired aspiration.
Her heart remained uneasy after giving a false answer to win the old man's loyalty.
Perhaps that was why.
This war felt like it had started because of her.
She thought recruiting the old man—a non-combatant—would prevent war, but reality showed he could only protect the north.
“I'm sorry...”
In the end, it was her own weakness as lord; one old man couldn't change that.
“Because of my incompetence...”
Only after debating with the old man and facing war's harsh reality did she realize.
She had no dream of her own.
She had merely mimicked the ideal lord from her sense of duty. It wasn't her true dream.
That was why her growth stagnated.
Excuses like lacking time for her people due to other lords' demands didn't hold.
Look at Duke and Rex.
They protected their citizens while reaching great heights.
(They'd wave it off if they heard, claiming otherwise.)
The real reason was she, unlike them, had no dream.
Chasing a false ideal, her realm couldn't advance.
Talentless and unqualified, yet coveting the lord's seat—this tragedy was the result.
She mocked herself.
Her difference from other lords was merely in pursuits, but the outcome was the same: suffering for the people under an unfit lord.
“I will atone for this.”
But now in this position, excuses were too late.
She whipped herself once more and rose from bed.
Finishing her regret-filled morning routine, she emerged from the tent.
“Please take care of things today as well, my lord.”
And greeted Duke, waiting ahead.
A few days had passed since I joined the southern front.
After that day, my role shifted from liberating the front to training instruction.
To ensure her rule by having her reclaim her territory herself.
As a bonus, my absence from direct action might intimidate the eastern lords.
But that wasn't important now.
‘Morning Q&A with Hana~’
Spending time alone with her in a room made me blissfully happy.
Note: Though it might sound suggestive, it's purely earnest training—no impure thoughts.
With war ongoing, physical sparring to vent energy was impossible, so we used verbal enlightenment.
She had built solid basics and mana over centuries but lacked a proper teacher, so slow growth via dialogue suited her.
‘My master never did this.’
Not just mine—most masters in this world skip such enlightenment transfers.
It's like handing over centuries of secret notes or exposing mental images, revealing weaknesses.
Why expose flaws to a disciple who might surpass you?
But I wasn't the cautious type.
‘Hana? Kill me?’
Our sweet Hana wouldn't kill me.
If she ever tried, it'd be my fault anyway.
Of course, even without her, I wasn't stingy with disciples.
Kicking away ladders out of fear is cowardice.
True masters lick newbies into allies.
‘Time's up.’
I checked via Rex's ability.
7 a.m.
Time for her to emerge.
Curiously, she stuck to this schedule precisely.
Even without a watch, unlike me.
It highlighted her diligence, making her all the more admirable.
‘What Q&A for today.’
Verbal sparring ended yesterday.
No advice on shadow magic...
‘Hmm. Time to touch on mental images.’
Superhumans need goals to grow strong.
Anyone needs goals to strive.
Realm advancement and lifespan transcendence are means to true heart-held goals.
For me: Becoming the wickedly cool final boss.
Rex: Harem, modest wealth, peaceful life. (Already doomed.)
Ari: Large family with Rex, safe from threats.
‘Hana probably...’
Wants a territory where people live secure and happy.
‘Perfect. Let's go with that.’
I prepared to concretize her dream's image for our Q&A.
As I pondered, the tent flap opened, and she appeared.
‘Five minutes late today.’
Well, relying on biological clock unlike me, a five-minute margin was fine.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Yes. Let's go.”
I led her to the fully isolated room.
I sat in the grand throne-like chair(?), she in the modest wooden one.
Across the wide desk, incense lit, we began today's Q&A.
“Verbal sparring is no longer needed. From today, let's discuss your mental image.”
“Mental image...?”
“Yes. Then I ask you: What do you dream of?”
I posed the question, awaiting her reply to follow up.
But minutes passed without response. Something felt off.
‘Huh?’
I finally looked up at her face.
‘What.’
Why the heart devil trance?
*
I hated school future career writing time.
Top students listed prosecutor, judge, doctor effortlessly.
Playful or innocent kids wrote YouTuber or streamer.
Heard my niece's generation wrote VTuber? Not important.
Those moments, I vaguely understood heart devils.
No martial arts world for Heavenly Demon.
No mana world for Demon King.
No notebook world for New World's God.
My dream was impossible fantasy.
Compromising with reality felt dreamless, inducing trance-like states.
- “XXX, ancient sword instructor? How to survive in Korea on that?”
I wrote it anyway, clinging to romance.
But point is, Hana's expression now was like that dreamless student's panic.
‘No... dream?’
This straight-arrow diligent Hana?
Impossible.
No real dream sustains that diligence.
Of course, novels depicted her mentality crumbling gradually.
But from frustration of “hitting reality's wall, failing dream”...
Wait. Did the novel ever directly depict her emotions?
‘Ah.’
I realized my misconception.
Original novel from Rex's POV; side character emotions inferred from actions.
Her every move detailed, but not full insight.
Unlike Ari, as Rex's occasional mentor-side character, less focus.
Realizing this, I shed my biases.
‘I don't fully know Hana.’
I knew novel-Hana from Rex's view, not the queen before me.
Decision swift.
I rephrased to her troubled self.
“What torments you so?”
“Pardon? What do you mean...”
“If you can't answer immediately, you either lack a dream or doubt it. I don't think you dreamless, so you doubt.”
“No, my lord. I'm not like that. I just...”
“Then speak. Tell me who you are too.”
Urging her hesitation, she finally confessed.
War reviving trauma,
Peter's Q&A revealing her unfit lordship,
Self-reflection showing no personal dream.
I nodded at her explanation.
‘That old geezer.’
Why spout nonsense killing her spirit.
Eyes gone, so's his tact.
(Sure, I posed too, but that was Peter's interview; not accomplice.)
Feeling selective conscience triangle revive, I cleared throat.
“Ahem. So that's the issue. Simple then. Ignore Peter.”
“Pardon?”
“Didn't he say a lord inspires aspiration in vassals?”
In other words, lords impose dreams on vassals, not swayed by them.
“From his vassalage, you can redefine his lordly qualities. Old man's beliefs full of holes.”
Aspiration schmaspiration.
She took ex-duke elder's words as gospel, but to me, a geezer nostalgic for fallen nation.
Having toppled it, his creed rang hollow.
‘The guy preaching it can't even act.’
Her pupils shook at my casual reply.
“But you too...”
“Did I ever judge you from my mouth?”
“Ah.”
Sure, explained wrong answers in Peter's interview per his criteria.
But didn't endorse; never agreed in life.
Yeah, you're right, fine—but unsmoved.
Light returned to her eyes.
Seizing chance, I instilled diversity to this concept-poor world girl.
“Billions of people, billions of beliefs.”
Peter wise, but not absolute truth.
High rank, wisdom—good words, not gospel.
“Don't let others define your dream.”
“But I... just mimicked ideal lords others envision. Not my dream...”
“Why can't that be a dream?”
“Pardon?”
I'm chasing final boss, imitating movie/comic idols.
If called empty mimicry, I'd flip the bird sans hesitation.
‘Who are you to judge.’
I know it's acting.
So what.
It's my dream; I strive, achieve, happy—who cares.
Thus, certain:
“Even habitual ideal is your true dream.”
Novel ended tragic from failures,
I rated her below Rex as lord,
But dream itself not wrong.
I love tales of pursuing dreams against reality.
“Hold firm to your dream. It's not wrong.”
“But I'm lacking as lord.”
“True, I know little of lordly qualities. But I believe you can do it.”
Novel's Rex inherited her mindset/base, steadily built empire.
She's unlucky in era/chance, not unfit.
‘Not “less than Rex = fail lord.”’
Rex's admin monster level freakish; she's excellent lord.
Who competes inner politics with command-cheat, 22nd-century knowledge, protagonist luck monster?
“Set aside worries now; focus on my training. Don't know lordly virtues, but your needed strength—I teach.”
“My lord... can I?”
“Believe. If not yourself, believe me. Me, who said without meeting Rex lord, I'd serve you.”
She fell silent, head bowed.
“I just followed your footsteps...”
“Didn't I say before? When you gaze at a star, it gazes back, calling you star too.”
I rose, draped my cloak over her bowed head.
Exited the room.
She needed solitude now, not more Q&A.
Before leaving, left words:
“I've chased you longer than you think. Perhaps before your birth.”
Just before closing door, sob from her—must be imagination.
*
Next morning after deep Q&A.
I waited outside tent as usual.
She emerged at 7:30.
‘Mm. Slept deeply for once.’
No nightmare, overslept 30 minutes.
Good sign; no scolding.
But...
‘Why look more tired?’
No dark circles, yet vaguely dazed.
Like sleepless late night.
Deep sleep unleashing pent-up fatigue?
Sensing worry, she smiled weakly.
“Haha, my lord. Can we rest today?”
Good lord! Schedule change from her!
Positive; accepted gladly.
‘Finally freed from duty-chains!’
Not whipped by duty, but mastered it.
‘Yes. Rest deep, our Hana.’
“Good call. Enemies quiet today; recover.”
No intel, but they'd be quiet anyway.
“Thank you, my lord.”
She glided shadow-slide to tent.
Sending her off, I ascended walls for rare peace.
Then remembered:
‘Right. Cloak.’
Forgot to ask back.
Subspace stocked 20 spares anyway.
‘Get after war.’
End nearing; no rush.
Thus thinking, awaited foes from south citadel.
“Lady Sneria booted us from shadows for patrols.”
“Mm.”
“What'd you discuss? Her face bloomed.”
“Mm.”
“Ah, she wore something... got kicked before seeing.”
“Mm?”
Chatted her idle vassals.
“Dunno her special training, but train us too... mmph!”
“No, my lord! No need...”
“Time free; light spar ok.”
Bonus: Trained vassals too.