The Name Was Found
Everything in this world possesses a dual nature. Take fire, for instance—the very foundation that allowed humanity to build civilization. It provides the warmth to survive the winter and the means to banish the darkness, acting as a source of progress that liberated our species from the constraints of day and night. Yet, if handled improperly, it becomes a horrific catastrophe that consumes not just homes and people, but entire forests and mountains. Even something that seems entirely positive has at least one drawback, and if one were to scour every corner of something that appears purely negative, one could find at least one tiny, albeit forced, advantage. The backside of a page filled with useful, essential information might be blank, or it might contain warnings omitted from the front, or perhaps it is simply useless data.
The word "dream"—a term that sounds romantic to the ear—is no different. It is the ultimate destination that helps one overcome countless trials. It is the hope that gives the weary the strength to stand up again, driven by the desire to reach that shimmering light they once glimpsed. But on the flip side of that positivity lies a different reality: a light that cannot be reached, luring those intoxicated by vain delusions into walking only on paths of thorns. It sits in the unreachable heights, a source of despair where those who strive and pour their everything into climbing cannot even graze it with their fingertips. Some take a step closer to their dreams and burst into joyful laughter, while others look up at the starlight of a dream they have no hope of achieving and weep uncontrollably.
The power of starlight and dreams that Tinkerbell bestowed upon the siblings of tragic fate, the two children of Robin Hood, is the same. If one moves forward to realize a dream in reality, the starlight dwells within, becoming the strength to repel the trials and darkness that attack. It is a light that will not vanish unless one completely gives up and falls into despair. At the same time, if one falls asleep under that starlight and encounters a landscape in a dream that is too alluring—so captivating that it makes reality seem like something to be abandoned—one sinks deeper and deeper into the bottomless quagmire of that dream, struggling until they are swallowed whole.
Under normal circumstances, they would distinguish well between dream and reality, seeking to achieve in the waking world what they saw in their sleep, but today was different. The dream the siblings had fallen into lacked the usual sense of dissonance. Even if it were present, the two could not find it. They could not even recognize that it was a dream. Their opponent was a mere amateur, far below the level of Tinkerbell; had Tinkerbell been present, she would never have lost in a direct confrontation, nor would she have fallen into the trap prepared to swallow travelers at this inn, Somnus's Dream. Even if she had fallen into a trap, Tinkerbell would have been confident that she could win despite such a penalty. However, the two, who had not grown strong through steady experience, lacked the necessary seasoned wisdom and were trapped in a prison of happy dreams, facing a crisis where they might erase their very selves from reality.
Ultimately, unable to return to reality, their adventure and journey as loving siblings would end here, trapped forever in a phantasmagorical prison, slowly becoming nourishment for the predator. That is, if not for one variable.
As the siblings fell asleep in an instant, the room, with the lights still on, grew excessively dark.
"Hmm? What is this?"
It was not a hallucination. Intervening in the mind or eyes to show something that does not exist simply does not work on Pinochia. This was not merely fog or black smoke obscuring her vision; it was the result of accelerating the flow of time—turning day into evening, and evening into night—manifesting the night itself in this place. Contrary to the darkness appearing as a result of someone's machinations, the furniture, the bed, and the siblings Hansel and Gretel lying upon it had vanished without a trace. The tidy room with the bed where a traveler would lie for a comfortable sleep was instantly transformed into a pocket dimension where only darkness remained. And left in that darkness was one mechanical doll with a human heart.
"Why have you not lain down on that bed to sleep, traveler? Why not lie down? Your stature is quite tall for a woman, but regardless of height, it is a bed that guarantees the best, most comfortable rest for any traveler. Are you reluctant to lie with your companions?"
The voice of a man, somewhere between middle-aged and elderly, echoed in the darkness as if whispering right into her ear.
"I have insomnia."
The "rest" Pinochia takes is closer to a "system shutdown" than sleep. It is an act of disconnecting from the world for a moment to avoid the confusion and anguish regarding her identity. There is no need to tell the truth about that. Especially not to someone hiding in an inn like this, pulling strings.
"How troublesome. Insomnia or not, if you had just lain down and slept, you would have been comfortable in a happy dream. Why choose such a difficult and painful path? Regret your choice as you die! In the darkness of this dream!"
The death sentence delivered by the mysterious man. Sharp, massive thorns were created in the pocket dimension where only darkness remained. They were fired like arrows, aiming for Pinochia.
"Hmm, this much is easy."
Though they flew in significant numbers, it was a sloppy, gap-filled barrage, not the simultaneous volley of hundreds of archers. Pinochia showcased nimble and disciplined movements, dodging all of them through the gaps in the hail of thorns. Her movements were almost like a performance, minimizing travel. Since she could not know where the enemy was in the darkness, her judgment was to hold her ground for now and pinpoint their location rather than running or jumping blindly. But that judgment did not last long.
"So you don't just throw them."
Sharp thorns erupted from the very spot where Pinochia stood. They moved with a speed and intensity that would have skewered her straight through from her feet to her legs had she remained still. Had the ground she stood on—or rather, the black space that might or might not be ground—turned into the back of a hedgehog? A hedgehog that felt threatened and raised all its spines at once.
Pinochia ran aimlessly through the darkness. Avoiding the tracking thorns, dodging the erupting ones, evading the thorns trying to pierce her soles from the ground she stood on, and sidestepping the ones trying to burst forth from the ground she was about to step on.
"You dodge well. But this darkness of the dream is my domain. How long can you endure?"
Although he hadn't landed a single effective hit yet, the man remained relaxed. The reason was his certainty that Pinochia had no means to find him, as he had hidden his body within the darkness.
'Thermal sensing, vibration sensing—all useless. For now, I'll keep dodging and observe how he attacks.'
Thermal and vibration sensing do not work on an entity standing on the boundary between reality and dream, hidden within the veil of darkness. One who avoids clashing with an enemy head-on has prepared many means to conceal themselves. Unless she had a way to dismantle all those means at once, Pinochia could only continue to run, avoiding the thorns. Waiting for the opening the enemy would eventually reveal.
Meanwhile, the mysterious man controlling this world of dream-darkness was not necessarily in an advantageous position, even if his opponent couldn't properly attack. He had lured her onto a favorable ring, but his primary weapons were completely ineffective. He was supposed to start by lulling the opponent to sleep and trapping them in an alluring dream indistinguishable from reality, making the opponent a bug attracted to the scent of honey while he became the trap. Yet, one of the three hadn't been lured by the fragrance, nor had she fallen into the digestive fluids filling the trap.
He was disguised as a retired old man with the simple, pure dream of wanting to make various inns and lodging businesses into shelters where all travelers could rest comfortably, using beds and rooms enchanted with various magics to show everyone a happy fantasy in a dream-state, causing them to forget reality. That principle wasn't working.
'Can there be a person in this world who has no dream they desire?'
The one hiding in the darkness of the dream had never seen this type before. Even the penniless, destitute beggars who had nothing, or those who claimed to have nothing to lose, usually had simple wishes like a full meal or a comfortable place to sleep. Why didn't the fantasy of that dream work on this pale woman? She hadn't broken through the illusion; it hadn't worked on her from the very beginning. Then, what would be the best course of action? He decided to get a hint from her enemies. It would start by showing her the fantasy they were seeing.
"Now, look at this."
With the tone of a swindler or a performer trying to grab the attention of a mark or an audience, the man stopped the thorn attacks and floated something like water droplets the size of a human head around her.
"Water, I see."
"Look at what is reflected within."
Magic that relies on showing something visually to trap one in an illusion and make them see things that aren't there does not work on Pinochia. Seeing that the enemy had entered a brief lull, Pinochia decided to play along.
The water droplets were filled with color, as if a few drops of paint had been added, and a moving picture was drawn inside.
"...."
"..."
One mechanical doll and one hidden man were left speechless by the bizarre and lewd spectacle that was similar, yet slightly different. A man and a woman wearing only gloves, stockings, and cow-patterned underwear. They were milking breasts and milking cocks. Furthermore, in the dream where the man was being milked, Pinochia, who had reached a lull after fighting here, was also participating.
"So, what do you want me to do?"
She had already seen and suffered through the siblings biting and sucking on each other; did he think that by showing her something like that, she would shout, "Oh, how lewd!" blush, and turn her head away? The sight filled with flesh-colored and white scenes of the siblings milking each other in the two water droplets. Since she couldn't determine the direction of the man showing her this strange spectacle, instead of looking at him directly with eyes full of contempt and absurdity, Pinochia looked at the siblings wandering through the dream in such a pathetic, perverted state with that very gaze.
"Do you like that brat?"
Meanwhile, the man manipulating the darkness of the dream was also bewildered, but he saw another