Chapter 32: Taming
Chapter 32: Taming
A refreshing new amusement had been added to the dull daily routine.
"Try to hold on without waking from the dream."
"Y-yes..."
Inside a neatly organized binder were stories of all sorts of Constellations.
Tales the Constellations had told their Incarnations. Folklore from fantasy worlds, martial tournaments from murim worlds, events from futuristic worlds.
Considering the content, it was less a dry set of documents and more like reading a fantasy setting bible—genuinely entertaining.
Much more enjoyable than lying on my ass in a studio apartment for twenty hours straight doing absolutely nothing.
The information on Constellations was managed at the state level, so it was surprisingly well-organized.
Or maybe setting otaku had put the whole thing together.
While I read up on Constellations famous even beyond the continent, Lee Ha-rin was crouched in a corner of her own dream.
Not lying down—just huddled in the corner, stealing sidelong glances at me.
It's not like I'm a walking plague.
If she got any closer than this, her breathing would grow ragged, her heart rate would destabilize, and the dream would start to fray.
So she was closing the distance about ten centimeters a day. Not emotional distance—physical distance, narrowed in this ridiculous fashion.
Still, there had been a significant breakthrough.
Now, as long as I didn't actively approach her, the lucid dream wouldn't shatter.
Whether that was something to celebrate or lament, I honestly wasn't sure—
but compared to the old days, when she'd wake from the dream in ten minutes and I'd have to fire up the Lucid Dream Authority over ten times a day...
I left Lee Ha-rin to her task, inching her rear end forward at one centimeter per hour as ordered,
and shifted my gaze back to the documents. The Constellations were all final survivors of their worlds, diverse enough to be genuinely fascinating reads.
Some were like me—limply swept up in events, clinging to life by a thread. Others had fought and failed.
And some had even taken revenge on the very cause of their world's destruction.
It hit home, hard: not all Constellations were created equal.
For example, there was a classic fantasy novel scenario tucked in there—the Demon King's invasion.
Except the hero didn't defeat the Demon King. The hero died.
The prince who had been sheltered in humanity's last bastion, the 'Unfading Flower,' possessed no Authority beyond what he'd gained after arriving in this world, same as me.
On the other hand, there was a swordswoman from a murim world where wicked yokai sought to annihilate humanity. She'd slaughtered every last one of the evils with a single blade—
but the earth rotted away, the air grew toxic, and in the end, she became the final human.
That swordswoman, named Constellation 'The Sword That Severs the Yoke,' was famous not for granting Authorities to her Incarnations but for personally instructing them in swordsmanship.
Princes and knights from fantasy worlds, swordmasters from murim, an emperor from a futuristic sci-fi empire, the captain who led humanity's final fleet.
With every imaginable world setting mashed together, the Authorities and traits of the Incarnations were just as chaotic a jumble.
"Hnnggh..."
As I was reading, a choked, breathless sound reached me, like someone being strangled.
"Focus. Breathe out slowly. If it's too hard, you may step back for a moment."
"No, I'll endure!"
Admirable, showing that resolve to persevere—but the thing she was so grimly determined to endure was just sitting back-to-back with me, which made it utterly pitiful.
Back to back, but with enough distance that no skin touched.
Even without me in her line of sight, did the mere presence at her back still overwhelm her?
I finished a passage about the emperor of a spacefaring human civilization who annihilated every planet belonging to an invading alien species, then drifted through the cosmos searching for a new world before dying in space—and then I casually turned around.
Curiosity about how Constellation 'The Incinerating Tyrant' turned his Incarnations into super-soldiers had gotten the better of me.
"Hyeek—"
"What the— why..."
Lee Ha-rin happened to be inching closer with a deep breath at exactly that moment.
My shoulder bumped her chest, knocking her back.
Her arms crossed over her breasts, she toppled sideways with a faint thump.
Simultaneously, the lucid dream collapsed, and the world of her unconscious—where her memories lay scattered—flooded my vision.
Today's new record: chest touch via shoulder.
A record of sheer, absolute wretchedness.
※
Should I buy an Authority that keeps the mind cold and detached? I was mulling even that over while observing Lee Ha-rin.
While Han Ye-ji was out on patrol as the newest rookie in her Suppression Team, learning the trade and graduating from clueless cadet to proper Incarnation—Lee Ha-rin had finally succeeded at shaking my hand.
That was the crowning achievement of the several weeks we'd spent waiting for the Academy entrance day to arrive.
First, sitting face-to-face at a distance.
Then, apparently finding eye contact too much to bear, inching closer until our backs touched.
After that, sitting side by side and tentatively holding hands.
If you only listened to the words, it almost sounded like a sweet romance between a fledgling couple.
'Hyeek—'
'Keep your wits about you.'
'Y-y-yeeek—'
'I haven't even held your hand yet.'
'I understand―eeek―'
For the sake of my own mental health, I had elected to stop counting how many lucid dreams had been utterly obliterated in pursuit of that goal.
Still, we'd reached the handshake milestone, so that was a relief. Though if I initiated contact without giving her time to brace herself, she'd still faint.
I pulled out of the lucid dream and turned to the screen.
In the by-now numbingly familiar Academy morning landscape, Lee Ha-rin stood in place of Han Ye-ji.
Lee Ha-rin, who could rattle off the basic physical test and the Special Incarnation Act without even needing to study—she'd memorized it all down cold.
If there was a problem, it was what came next.
Han Ye-ji's trait had bloomed, guiding her toward her path—a trait she'd gained by absorbing the 'First Essence of the Dream Demon.'
So Lee Ha-rin would likewise need the Dream Demon's essence to gain her trait, which meant she'd have to have sex with me. And—
'How am I supposed to manage that with a girl who faints within five minutes of holding hands?'
Hold hands: five minutes. Hold hands while making eye contact: three minutes before she passes out.
How do you undress a girl whose face turns redder than instant ramen cooking?
Part of me wanted to just have my way with her while she was unconscious, but fainting meant she woke from the dream, so that was a dead end.
"Hmm, excellent. Just what I'd expect from a military academy background, I suppose? Your fundamentals are rock-solid."
"Thank you!"
In stark contrast to my tangled thoughts, Lee Ha-rin was adapting to the Academy with ease.
It probably felt remarkably easy to her.
Apart from the tiny handful of geniuses, her rivals were still fumbling civilians, and the curriculum was at the basic level, not advanced coursework.
During physical conditioning, she consistently ranked at the top. She already knew the Special Incarnation Act inside out, yet never once dozed off or lost focus in class.
The very picture of a model student straight out of a textbook.
If only she'd stop fainting. I meant it.
The regret clung to me, viscous and stubborn in my chest.
There was a mental Authority that maintained rationality and provided a cold, clear mindset—
but cheap goods were rubbish, nothing to be done about it. Unless you shelled out for the truly pricey ones, they'd mess with your other emotions too.
Third-rate martial arts had side effects, off-brand products had defects—cheap Authorities came with hidden traps.
Take the Sweet Lucid Dream itself: a bargain-bin buy at 3,000 points, and the moment her heart rate spiked or she suffered a mental shock, wasn't she forcibly ejected?
At least, being dream-related, its side effects were comparatively mild. The others could hit unexpectedly hard.
Your body grows stronger—and your muscles bloat grotesquely. You focus for too long—a surge of pain hits. That sort of thing.
But buying a side-effect-free Authority just to keep her from waking up in a lucid dream? The cure would cost more than the disease.
No, to buy one clean enough to have no side effects, the belly button would end up bigger than the belly.
I needed some kind of special measure, but I had no idea what that measure might be.
Still, within a month, we'd reached skin contact.
Maybe she'd grow more accustomed to it within half a year?
With that thought in mind, I alternated between watching Lee Ha-rin earn recognition from her instructors at the Academy
and watching Han Ye-ji walk her patrol route, receiving "education" from her senior that was really just hazing dressed up as instruction.
Han Ye-ji, now—she'd flourished all on her own.
All I had to do was listen to her whine on Monday mornings about not wanting to go to work. How easy was that?
She'd even gotten better at lucid dreaming; she could rest deeply and wake on her own now, without me having to enter the dream.
If I just stayed still, she'd cling to me of her own accord, shyly press her hips against me, let her desires run wild as she pleased, and then vanish, satisfied and refreshed.
Her point income was rising, and she was steadily building her know-how as a Suppression Team operative.
'My Constellation, what's your second Incarnation like?'
'Hmm, she's a very shy child.'
'I see...'
That mundane conversation suddenly resurfaced in my mind.
I could hardly have told her the truth: that my second Incarnation was a severe fanatic who hit orgasm from skin contact alone,
a Constellation otaku who'd memorized everything about you and me before the contract was even signed.
Honestly, back then, she genuinely frightened me.
When I'd attempted the contract with Lee Ha-rin, she'd fainted right there in the library.
And from the moment she woke and accepted the contract, she'd been whisked to the infirmary, then into a meeting with high-ranking officials,
then to her room to unpack, then dragged off to the dining hall.
She'd been rushed around on a schedule so packed she didn't have a second to glance at a computer, let alone a smartphone—
and yet, during that conversation about Constellations in the dining hall, hadn't she already known all about me and Han Ye-ji?
Meaning she hadn't looked it up after the contract. She'd known before.
Focusing on Lee Ha-rin instead of Han Ye-ji, I let out another involuntary sigh.
At this rate, the floor was going to cave in under me.
Earlier, I'd gotten distracted by other thoughts and entered the lucid dream late—only to find she'd imagined me on her own, fainted, and booted me right back out again.
Han Ye-ji fantasized about me just fine and used it for self-comfort. So why did this one just imagine me and pass out?
Half a year to pin down a concrete career path for her.
Could I tame her within half a year?