Chapter 6: Sweet Dreams (Part 1)
Chapter 6: Sweet Dreams (Part 1)
I contracted Han Ye-ji in June, and on July 1 she enrolled at the academy.
Now that August had arrived, she'd already finished banking her graduation credits through basic physical conditioning and the Special Incarnation Act course.
But there was something far more important.
[Constellation, Lethargic Nightmare, presents an Authority to his first incarnation!]
[Incarnation Han Ye-ji is imbued with the 'Sweet Lucid Dream' Authority!]
"Th-thank you!"
The moment my points hit at midnight on August 1, I blew every last one—three full months of saving, not a single 1pt snack in all that time.
Han Ye-ji, who'd been rearranging her schedule now that the new month meant swapping basic conditioning for a new class, shot to her feet.
Watching her bow over and over at the empty air, I couldn't help feeling pretty damn good about the whole thing.
[Constellation, Lethargic Nightmare, awaits you with anticipation.]
Still bowing, Han Ye-ji swiped her fingers through the air.
Maybe she had some kind of status window? I'd never actually seen anyone yell "Status!" into thin air, though. If she could operate it without speaking, that was handy.
Never mind the orientation papers, the booklets, the cheap school-issue laptop spread out on her desk that she'd been grumbling over. She didn't even bother changing—just dove onto the bed and sprawled out.
Somewhere in the process she whacked her shin against the bed frame—thunk—and the sight of her curling up in the covers clutching her leg actually made a snort of laughter slip out of me.
She really was that happy. Then again, this was the first supernatural power she'd experienced since becoming an incarnation. It was like waking up one day with psychic powers—who wouldn't be thrilled?
The light was still on, almost painfully bright, but she must have activated Sweet Lucid Dream right away, because she was out cold in less than five minutes.
Seeing that, I figured I might as well get some sleep myself and started turning toward the fridge—then stopped. A message I'd never seen before appeared on the monitor.
[Intervene in Incarnation Han Ye-ji's lucid dream?]
[Yes / No]
Before I could think too hard about what "intervene" meant, or whether I'd been pulled here as a soul or had genuinely turned into some kind of dream demon, my hand moved on its own and clicked Yes.
※
The screen flickered—and before I could even finish that thought, my surroundings snapped into something else entirely.
I was no longer in the one-room. I was standing in a different space.
A bright white ceiling fixture, neatly finished white walls, a warm-brown wood floor. A wall-mounted TV, a leather sofa, a clean coffee table arranged in black and white—it looked like the living room of a fairly well-off home.
This wasn't a sealed box like the Constellation's one-room. Beyond the living room, two more rooms stretched back, and when I turned my head I could see a front door and a bathroom.
Standing in a normal, intact house—not a collapsing wreck—felt oddly surreal. Maybe it was the total lack of people, but some part of me still expected to head straight for the kitchen, raid the fridge and cabinets for preserved food, and bolt back to a hideout.
I shoved the survival instinct scratching at the corner of my brain back down.
"I'm home!"
Just as I was wrestling with that, a rhythmic beep—boop-boop sounded at the door, and before I could react it swung open.
I was standing right in the hallway between the shoe cabinet and the living room—no chance to hide. I braced for trouble, but—
"What's for dinner tonight?"
The woman who'd walked in addressed me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now that I got a good look at her, she did resemble Han Ye-ji. A little. Was it because this was a dream? Something about her looked different from the feed I usually watched.
Ignoring the clatter of a bag being dropped somewhere in the house, I made for the bathroom and checked the mirror.
"Did I always look like this?"
The Constellation's one-room didn't have a bathroom, so I'd never paid much attention. Now my face stared back at me from a spotless mirror—no water spots, nothing.
Soft, downturned eyes, unnaturally pale skin for a man, vivid red lips, a sharp nose.
"This is a little..."
The face looked more like an idol's than an ordinary guy's. That was when it finally clicked.
I was inside Han Ye-ji's dream. My appearance had shifted to match whatever image of me she held in her head.
No matter how long it had been since I'd last seen a mirror, there was no way I'd forget my own face. I wasn't this gentle-eyed clean-cut church-boy idol type—my eyes were naturally fierce, so bad that if I kept my mouth shut people thought I was pissed. Before my old shelter collapsed, I'd even been hired as the "scary enforcer" who stood behind the negotiation table to set the mood.
'So what am I supposed to do here?'
This whole house was a construct of Han Ye-ji's dream. Was she still too inexperienced with the ability to control her lucid dream properly—or did she think I was just a character in it? And if she was accepting me this casually, what did she actually want?
'She asked about dinner. Does that mean I should cook something?'
By the time I washed my hands and headed to the kitchen, Han Ye-ji still hadn't come out of her room. She'd been in uniform a moment ago—probably changing.
A dream about coming home from school and having dinner. You couldn't ask for a more modest fantasy than that.
"Whoa, what the hell..."
When I opened the fridge, it greeted me with a sight that practically screamed this is a dream. A giant side-by-side fridge packed with meat—just mountains of it.
Sure, this was a world where men handled the housework, but who on earth shopped like this? Pork belly, beef, chicken, smoked duck, plus kimchi, garlic, onion, and ssam radish.
The fierce determination to grill and eat meat tonight had projected itself straight onto the fridge's contents—only meat and ssam ingredients. In the cupboards under the sink: salt, pepper, sesame oil, a few kinds of herb salt. That was it. Even the left-side freezer was crammed with frozen meat.
I grabbed the most manageable-looking pork belly and started prepping it, and that's when I heard light footsteps behind me.
Bare feet padding across the wooden floor. Couldn't be a nightmare—had to be Han Ye-ji. Before I could tell her to take a seat at the table, she was already right behind me.
"Heehee, pork belly tonight? The kimchi's perfectly fermented, too."
I couldn't answer.
'What is this dream supposed to be?'
Because Han Ye-ji had wrapped her arms around me from behind like it was the most natural thing ever. And the instant I felt her skin against mine, the pulse of her heartbeat against my back, a thought surfaced in my mind like an instinct.
This world ran on reversed gender roles—it was a matriarchal society through and through, where women handled public life and their physical traits had diverged bit by bit over time. Just as it was normal for a teenage boy to have erotic dreams, it was perfectly normal for teenage girls in this world to do the same.
I wasn't clueless about women. But the situation was so bewildering I just stood there, frozen.
If I'd been in a clearly defined relationship—real lovers, or a one-night stand bought with a few cans of food—I could have reacted. But here, inside my incarnation's dream, what the hell was I supposed to do?
The gentle embrace, the soft body pressed against my back, the hot breath on my nape. A sweet, feminine scent that shattered any forced restraint and had desire bubbling up in earnest.
Should I take her hands and lead her to the bed? Or give her a firm push and get back to cooking?
Having no idea what to do, I settled on doing nothing. It was her dream. She'd move however she wanted.
Either we'd cuddle a little and then eat, or she'd skip the food and eat me instead.
I waited for her reaction, saying nothing, and focused on scoring the rolled pork belly and sprinkling herb salt over it.
The breath against my neck grew rougher. The hands laced around my sides trembled slightly, and then something pressed against the back of my shoulder blade—her forehead? Was she burying her face against my back?
Without a single word, Han Ye-ji stayed like that for a while, forehead pressed to my back. Then, at some point, she let go just as naturally as she'd held on and walked to the table.
Wasn't a lucid dream supposed to be a dream where you know you're dreaming? Maybe because this was Han Ye-ji's lucid dream and not mine, I found it a little hard to keep up.
Was reality that exhausting—the studying and training—that she just wanted to act spoiled inside a dream? This gentle-eyed, huggable good-looking face I was wearing was probably her subconscious wish to be pampered.
Thinking entirely useless thoughts, I turned on the stove.
I laid the pork belly on the well-used frying pan—a faint scorch mark near the handle joint—and a satisfying sizzle filled the kitchen. Real, fresh meat and vegetables, not instant packaged stuff.
So what if Han Ye-ji's dream was a mess? There were fresh greens in front of me. Instead of the oil-soaked vegetable scraps chopped into frozen fried rice, I rinsed crisp lettuce and onion, shook off the water, and piled them into a little colander. My eyes kept drifting to the fresh produce more than the meat.
After that, nothing much happened.
We didn't talk, but we sat across from each other and ate. The kimchi, the lettuce, the grilled onion and garlic—I was so absorbed in them I barely tasted the meat, eating until my stomach felt ready to burst.
Then we moved to the living room and sat side by side on the sofa, watching TV. The screen flicked through things I didn't recognize—a variety show, a movie scene, a drama scene—all jumbled together.
And each time, Han Ye-ji edged a little closer. First she took my hand. Then she scooted over until her hip was flush against mine. By the time I felt the soft press of her chest against my arm, she was leaning into me.
Was she like this because she was a student living without parents? She seemed bright and positive on the surface—was something rotting underneath? It didn't feel like a lover's sweet affection. More like a big dog shoving its head against you for scratches.
When she rested her head on my shoulder, I acted on impulse and reached around, brushing my hand through her hair. The angle wasn't great with her leaning on me, but I could feel the soft texture. Warmth—someone else's body heat.
"Ah... huh?"
She'd been staring blankly at the TV without a word, but now she came to with a jolt and looked at me, eyes dazed.
"Constellation?"
The moment her lips moved, the world began to spin.