23. The Butterfly Dream
"Huuuuh...."
It was evening, marking the end of my long, grueling first day at the academy. After a quick dinner, I returned to my dorm room and slumped down by the bedside. To make sure I wouldn't forget the info Evan had shared with me today, I pulled out the notebook and pen I'd bought from the academy's general store and started jotting it all down.
"Story's main plotline, opportunities and hidden pieces separated... character relationships by event...."
Scratch, scratch. By the time I'd filled nearly half the fresh notebook with dense black ink, I could finally close it.
I tucked the notebook under the bed frame where no one would find it, then reviewed my plans going forward.
—For now, let's stick together and see how the story unfolds.
—Yeah, sounds good.
We'd decided to move together with Evan for a while, check how the story had changed, then meet up again to talk it over. Bonus points if being seen with her helped salvage my trashed reputation among the other students... but that was pure wishful thinking.
"Hoo...."
After burying my head in the notebook for so long, my neck ached and my eyes were bleary. On top of that, exhaustion from overworking my brain was setting in. I know I've still got plenty to think about and shouldn't sleep yet, my mind told me, but my body isn't cooperating.
My head bobbed more violently up and down than before, my vision growing blurrier by the second. That hazy limbo between sleep and wakefulness felt strangely pleasant.
Swoosh.
"......?"
Suddenly, I sensed someone beside me. But that was impossible in my room. Sure, dorms usually had roommates, but mine was a solo setup because the assigned one had vehemently refused.
My rational mind screamed danger, but the rest of my senses stayed eerily calm.
"Seems like you're enjoying academy life more than expected."
"Who...."
A voice—neither clearly male nor female—spoke as its owner settled beside me. It sounded vaguely familiar, so I turned to look...
"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that we've borrowed this peaceful moment to talk."
The stranger's hand—lifeless, almost—stopped my head from turning and gently pushed my face away as they continued.
"How's life here treating you?"
The question came out of nowhere. Normally, I'd snap out of it by now, but my mind refused to clear. It felt like a ship adrift with no anchor, circling back no matter how hard I tried to focus.
Drifting in that dreamlike haze, I answered without thinking.
"Life here... it's scary and tense. I barely know this game—can I really navigate it okay...?"
"...I see."
The stranger responded quietly, calmly accepting my words. What was their intent in asking? What did they feel from my answer? The questions bubbled up, only to dissolve back into sleep's edge.
Rustle.
Before suspicion could reform, silk fabric brushed my ear. The lifeless hand shifted to my other side, pulling me down gently.
My head sank slowly toward the floor—not the bed's mattress, but something warmer, softer, with a human touch.
"Your expectations, your longings—they're all natural feelings. Anyone ordinary would harbor them."
Rustle. Silk draped over as the lifeless hand stroked my hair. Dry, devoid of warmth, it repeated the motion mechanically. Yet it brimmed with something beyond warmth: pure affection.
"But because you're an ordinary human capable of such feelings, I'm even more worried about you. The trials and hardships ahead might break you."
Affection laced with concern.
"Still, I believe you'll overcome it all in the end."
But stronger than those was unshakeable trust.
"After all, you're the one I chose."
Firm faith in themselves—and in me. Who could hold such conviction?
"You..."
"Shh. Sadly, our time's up."
Before I could unravel the mystery, it ended. The stroking hand paused and trailed to my eyes. A silken veil like a cutout of the night sky covered them softly.
"Sweet dreams, then."
As if enchanted, my half-awake consciousness plunged fully into oblivion. Down, and down further. Into a butterfly dream where dream blurred with reality.
By the blessing of the God of ■■ '■■■', the proficiency of your unique skill Arcana has increased.
Unique skill Arcana proficiency increased: Reuse cooldown reduced. (Current: 150 seconds)
Card Orientation: Upright
Card Meaning: Creation, Skill
Mystical power dwelling in the card unleashes ingenuity, creating something from nothing.
"...What the hell is all this...?"
Forcing my heavy eyelids open, I stared blankly at the flashing notifications and the tarot card hovering in midair, demanding attention.
Suddenly bombarded by alerts, I just gawked. What disaster had caused this?
The messages explained what happened, but not why or how.
"Come to think of it, a card popped out on its own before."
As I pondered, I remembered: the morning I first got my unique skill. A card had floated there just like now—but the next one in sequence.
"What kind of skill acts up like this every damn time...? Random draws, cooldowns... If you're giving skills, at least hand out something decent, like a cockroach-level survivor one."
I swatted away the alerts, grumbling about my unruly unique skill. Honestly, Arcana only worked because I had it—anyone else would've drawn a bad card and checked out early.
The moment I vented about the god who gave me this junk...
Twitch.
"...? Did the card just move—"
Whoosh.
0.5 seconds to notice the card twitch.
1 second to see it fly at me.
1.5 seconds to realize it hit my forehead.
3 seconds to feel the pain.
Total: 3 seconds of no-warning agony.
"───!!!"
The card—tough enough to block a pissed-off dragon's strike—slammed into my forehead, sending me writhing on the bed.
For real. Why does this crap always happen to me?