Ah, Fuck, A Dream
Dong. Dong. Dong.
A deep yet clear peal of bells rang out from every direction.
Not the loathsome city pigeons, but pure white doves that looked as if they had flown straight out of a fantasy filled the sky, and the thunderous applause of a crowd rose up to join the sound of the bells.
Where the hell was this supposed to be? I had clearly been lying in bed reading a fox-beastgirl pure-love manga — so how had I suddenly dropped into a place this weird?
I took a slow breath to settle my spinning head, then carefully looked down. A pure white wedding dress was draped over me.
"What the fuck is this."
Hadn't I been wearing an oversized sweatshirt and dolphin shorts? When the hell had I changed into a wedding dress?
The sight of myself all dressed up in bridal white sent the head I had just managed to calm plunging straight back into chaos. I looked around, desperate to make sense of the situation — and there he was, my ball-buddy, walking toward me in a perfectly tailored suit.
"What's wrong? Something the matter?"
Not his usual sharp-edged voice, but a sweet, greasy tone that sounded like he was whispering love into my ear.
For a split second his attitude made something strange stir in me. I crushed the feeling and snapped at him, nerves fraying.
"Hey, you fucker. What the hell is going on right now?"
"What do you mean, what's going on?"
"Why are you in a suit, and why am I in a wedding dress? Explain the situation. In detail."
I growled the words at him like an accusation. He looked at me with a puzzled expression, then broke into a soft smile and reached up to stroke my hair.
"Why else? Today's our wedding day."
"What?"
"Our wedding day. That's why I'm in a suit and you're in a wedding dress. Don't tell me you want to do roleplay even here?"
…Marriage?
Me.
With that bastard?
Has he lost his goddamn mind?
Confusion piled on top of confusion, and then more confusion on top of that, until my entire thought process started to short out.
When the hell had we gotten to the point of getting married? I was sure I hadn't given him a single opening for female corruption.
Hadn't I been rejecting him, cursing him out, despising him, doing everything I could to put distance between us?
So why — how the hell had I ended up corrupted into a female?
Was I still forcing my broken circuits to grind through that chain of questions when he stepped in close, worry on his face, took hold of my cheeks, and made me look him in the eye?
Then he closed his eyes and leaned in, about to press his lips to mine.
No.
I have to resist.
I don't like that bastard.
So why can't I move?
You useless fucking body, move already!
I screamed it over and over in my head, trying to force myself into motion — but of course my body wouldn't budge an inch.
And then, just as his mouth was about to touch mine—
"NO, YOU FUCKIIIIING—!!!"
Thankfully, my eyes snapped open.
Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp!!!
The lively humming of sparrows announcing morning.
And warm sunlight slamming into my eyes like it was telling me to wake the hell up from that nightmare.
I felt cold sweat sliding down my back and slowly got my breathing under control.
"Thank god it was a dream. Seriously."
It had been so vivid it was a fucking nightmare.
A dream I never, ever wanted to have again.
Me, married to that bastard, whispering love into each other's ears? That doesn't even make sense.
I shook my head hard, trying to knock the memory of the dream loose, then gave my lush tails a little swish — just to take the sour mood out on him.
But.
"Where the hell did that bastard go?"
I couldn't feel his presence in any of my tails, and for some strange reason the emptiness hit me hard.
Feeling lonely just because we'd spent one day together? Was I actually missing him because he wasn't here?
"No way."
Lonely? Missing him? Absolute nonsense. I was just weirded out that he'd vanished without a word.
Right. I've always been the type who likes being alone. I'm not lonely at all without him.
If anything, it's more comfortable.
"Still, where the hell did that bastard actually go? If you're going somewhere, at least say something."
I sniffed the lingering scent of him left on my tails, trying to guess when he'd left, and from how faint the trace was I could tell he'd been gone longer than I expected.
Roughly four hours? Five? Even if it was four hours, that was still the middle of the night. What the hell had he gone out for at dawn?
Wondering if he'd left a note, I rubbed my eyes, got up, and stepped out into the kitchen. A scrap of paper that looked like something he'd written caught my eye.
"Don't tell me this bastard's about to pull a Fox God and say he'll be back in a few days."
I calmly started reading the note he'd left.
Stepped out for a bit — something I need to look into.
There's a decent chance I'll be late, which is why I'm writing this, but I'll definitely be back sometime between lunch and dinner.
If some stranger asks you to open the door, do not open it under any circumstances. And if something actually dangerous happens, use the talisman I left on the table. It'll protect you until I get back.
A truly modest little note — and at the same time, one that settled my heart.
I let out a breath of relief and set the scrap back on the table.
"If it's been over five hours, that's not 'a bit,' you bastard."
Was five hours this guy's idea of a short while? If he ever said "in a little bit," it'd take a whole damn day.
I made a mental note to unload a double helping of curses on my ball-buddy the second he got back, then started checking the commission list I had to draw today — when my phone chimed with a message alert.
Who the hell at this hour?
The only person who might contact me was my editor, but was editing something that got knocked out in a day or two?
I checked my phone, half-skeptical, and sure enough — a message from my workaholic editor.
She said it so matter-of-factly and sent me the edited VOD ready for Latube. I calmly started watching the video she'd put together.
"Since there aren't many viewers, this should be fine. Alright, everyone — just give me one tag each."
The first words out of the gate the second I hit play — pure nonsense from that first stream.
I nearly got hit with PTSD the moment I heard it, but the cheerful intro BGM that followed right after managed to settle my nerves.
That one was a dark stain on my history no matter how many times I saw it.
I never should have left the VOD up. Seriously.
Cursing out past-me for running that first stream like a complete idiot, and past-me for whining at Halo Streaming to leave the VOD online, I watched the entire edited video through to the end.
Then I gave her editing sense a standing ovation and hit approve.
I told her to take it easy, but our workaholic editor had already vanished — probably straight back into editing — and never replied. With nothing left to do, I went back to the commission list and started checking what I was supposed to take on today.
"Let's see… the person I have to draw for today… is the one who requested over six abnormal-fetish pieces. Wonder what kind of freaky request they're putting in this time."
Please don't let it be anything too hardcore.
Recalling the kinds of drawings that particular client had commissioned before, I sent them a message.
Slapping a dog-collar-style choker onto a wedding dress, the very symbol of pure love.
I could honestly call this one hardcore too — but considering that client's past track record, this almost looked like normal sexual desire by comparison.
"No, wait. Even compared to other clients, this counts as normal. Submission-training-corruption pure love is normal desire. It is pure love."
That aside.
"…Why the fuck am I remembering that dream the second I try to draw?"
The moment I went to rough out the composition, the dream from earlier came flooding back and started tormenting me.
Myself in a wedding dress. And him, walking toward me in a suit—
"Bullshit."
WHAM!!!
I slammed my head into the desk with everything I had, driving the dream back out of my skull, then threw my pen down and messaged the commission client.
Having legally secured a late-delivery pass from the commission client, I threw myself onto the bed and shut my eyes on the spot, ready to sleep.
Desperately hoping that when I woke up, that goddamn dream would finally be gone.