Chapter 80: Relieving Needs
Chapter 80: Relieving Needs
The dream therapy had scaled up to an unimaginable degree.
At this point, calling it dream therapy no longer felt right—had it become a full-blown mental welfare system for retired soldiers and ex-Incarnations?
At any rate, after that whole sprawling affair unfolded, the first thing I did wasn't meet with retired soldiers,
nor peek into any ex-Incarnation's Nightmare.
"...Should I think about coming over that way too? Although I might find it a little hard."
I was coaxing Han Ye-ji, who had been subtly sulking with a sense of being left out, back out of her gloom inside a dream.
Even when I wasn't using a clone,
Lee Ha-rin and Kim Ha-eun could visit my Sanctum and spend time with me. That was apparently what she envied.
This was Han Ye-ji—the sort who'd feel jealous over half a plate of pasta and summon a whole restaurant inside a lucid dream.
Envying this situation was only natural for her.
"Hmm. But even so, going after an Academy position when you're just a three-year rookie is a pretty high hurdle."
She said it with her arms crossed, in a quiet, chatty tone, as if it were nothing at all—but inside a dream, you could never hide your emotions.
Blatant jealousy, envy, and a competitive drive spawned from them.
That her jealousy converted into competitive spirit rather than resentment or despair—I'd really picked a fine Incarnation.
Well, she was a responsible woman who'd been supporting her younger brother from a young age.
That sense of reassurance came with a side of curiosity.
Her sniping skills had improved noticeably, and she'd racked up a decent record. Was the hurdle really high enough for her to describe it that way?
The Academy was vast, with almost a thousand instructors.
Some weren't even Incarnations, and there were young instructors too, so I'd figured it was more forgiving than I'd expected.
Thinking a little harder, of course it wasn't.
It was a space so heavily guarded that freighters traveling to and from the island attracted dozens of Incarnations to swarm over them.
Inside, hundreds of Incarnations kept their eyes peeled, and Constellations other than me watched the place with considerable interest.
Could any random Joe land a job in a place like that?
"Is it that hard?"
"W-well, I'd like to go if I could."
Seeing Han Ye-ji—who would literally play dead at a single word from me—hesitate so much was a bit surprising.
Han Ye-ji would play dead; Lee Ha-rin might actually manage the real thing.
I was sorting out those stray thoughts that had suddenly surfaced when Han Ye-ji reluctantly spoke up.
"The requirements just to apply for an instructor position at the Academy are super strict."
She squirmed a little, then rested her head against my shoulder and went on.
"Hmm, I don't remember the exact details, but I think even the regular Academy staff positions get filled only by elites. The instructor positions are originally filled through tournaments."
"Tournaments?"
"Yes. When a slot opens up, they hold tournaments by field and by continent. For weapon arts, it's actual sparring. For marksmanship, they score you in simulations. For magic instructors, they tally your papers and research records, then evaluate your lecturing skill..."
Only then did I recall what I'd seen earlier in the day, and I understood where her lack of confidence came from.
The Academy's marksmanship simulation. Han Ye-ji hadn't been able to get a perfect score, and that stress had even given her nightmares.
And yet the instructors treated perfect scores as the baseline and competed for record times.
That would be a brutal trial for Han Ye-ji, who'd only been focusing on sniping.
So those young-looking instructors at the Academy were actually continental-level tournament winners.
A thought struck me, and a shiver ran down my spine.
'So the instructors who weren't Incarnations... had they beaten Authority-blessed Incarnations through sheer talent and skill to claim those instructor posts?'
Sure, there were Constellations who grew their rosters without even granting Talents, much less Authorities—but an Incarnation was still an Incarnation.
They had the backing of the world's underlying System; ordinary civilians couldn't compare.
And they'd beaten them on pure skill?
"So I could make it my goal, but... for now, it seems a little difficult."
Simultaneously, I felt intense emotions surge from her as she leaned against me.
Regret and apology.
Did she think she hadn't lived up to expectations, or was she apologetic about admitting her own limits?
She'd shown such commendable spirit; my chest swelled with pride.
So what if she improved a little slower than my other two Incarnations? I hadn't picked her for her talent.
So by way of a reward, it was time to do something I'd been putting off.
※
I wasn't always with them, but they could enter lucid dreams every day.
So what did they do in those dreams when I wasn't around?
They could study, practice marksmanship, or rest... and like anyone in the prime of youth, they could also relieve their libido.
But they hadn't managed to create a complete 'me' in their dreams for that purpose.
I was a Dream Demon, and they were human.
That wasn't all.
The Authority of lucid dreaming was something I'd granted them; we were bound as Constellation and Incarnation.
In many ways, we were in a perfect hierarchy—far clearer than something like fire and lava.
Just as I couldn't control my clones freely, they couldn't manipulate lucid dreams at will.
Specifically, they couldn't summon me to use as a sex doll, because they lacked the ability.
Even I, a Constellation, had time limits on summoning my own Constellation self—how could an Incarnation shape me at will? Even in a dream, the System wouldn't allow it.
That was why this situation had come about.
The world crumbled like clay, then reassembled itself like Lego bricks.
A gloomy alley, a flickering streetlamp, a pitch-black bike roaring noisily—and Han Ye-ji, lightly dressed and carrying a convenience-store plastic bag.
'She's out of her head... Is this really okay?'
This was the unconscious world Han Ye-ji had conjured when her libido built up in my absence.
In front of me, Han Ye-ji stared blankly, mouth agape.
The feel of the leather gear clinging to my skin was unfamiliar.
I'd never worn a full bodysuit, so I wondered if wearing spandex felt like this.
Thinking too hard about spandex might snap Han Ye-ji out of her unconscious state, so I immediately started manipulating the dream.
"Wh-who are you?!"
"..."
I didn't answer the now-lucid Han Ye-ji. Silently, I placed a cigarette between my lips.
With a natural flick, I produced a Zippo lighter from my pocket and lit it.
Since I wasn't a smoker, the smoke entering my mouth carried no scent, like vapor from a humidifier.
But Han Ye-ji was probably inhaling the acrid smoke vividly enough.
"I asked who you are."
I didn't dignify the repeated question with a reply.
This was exactly what she wanted.
With her lucid-dreaming authority stripped by me, and me having come to the depths of her unconscious, she was in a situation where she couldn't recognize me.
Last time she'd seen me carving up people's backs with a knife, she'd been fantasizing about something like this.
A wild, handsome stranger suddenly appearing in a skintight biker suit with a thick cigarette.
Explanations promised for later, and a car chase starting immediately.
I had to press my lips tight; the sheer naked desire of it made me want to crack up.
"I'll explain later. Just get on."
"Wh-what? Ah! My beer!"
I snatched her wrist, and she climbed onto the back of the bike with feigned reluctance.
Beyond the clatter of four beer cans rolling on the ground came the rough growl of the exhaust.
Now that we'd taken off on the bike, the waiting pursuers would show up right on cue.
The arms wrapping around my waist felt awkward.
This was not the Han Ye-ji who had gotten so comfortable she'd slide her hand over my waist and grope my thigh with a playful grin.
Gone was that cheeky side of her; she was flustered, not daring to properly wrap her arms around a man's waist.
In a dry baritone with a hint of amusement, I told her:
"Don't play coy. When I say okay, put your arms around my waist properly. No helmets, so you fall, you crack your skull."
"Ah—yes. Okay."
At that offhand remark, Han Ye-ji finally pressed herself tightly against me from behind.
She was clearly spooked by the bike's monstrous speed.
Through the thin suit, I could feel her soft chest squishing this way and that.
And of course, she was savoring the feel of my back muscles and abs with her whole body.
'So, what now?'
We pulled out onto the main road, and black cars began chasing us.
Han Ye-ji glanced back, then with a bewildered expression buried her face against my back again.
I'd enjoyed enough of the chest sensation against my back; it was time to move forward.
"Hey! Did you see anything weird earlier today?"
The wind was loud as it sliced past, but both my voice and Han Ye-ji's came through perfectly clear.
No one ever failed to catch words in a dream, and no one woke up from it.
"E-earlier?"
"Yeah. Seen anything strange? Think hard. Those guys behind us are following because they want to know too."
At my words, Han Ye-ji wracked her brain desperately, then came up with the answer I wanted.
"That... thing with the women in suits swarming in the alley?"
"Yeah? There's a photo in my chest pocket. Take it out."
"Huh?!"
"For fuck's sake, just take it out!"
A shy hand fumbled around my chest and pulled out a newly materialized, worn photograph.
Like a pickpocket or petty thief, she used only her thumb and forefinger—specifically her nails, trembling as she plucked the photo out.
While Han Ye-ji hesitated over the pressure against a man's chest, the bike slowed without her noticing, and the murderously pursuing cars vanished.
While she'd been focused on the photo, I'd driven the bike to a shabby, run-down motel tucked in a corner of an alley.
"Oh, right. This person—they were swarming around like an escort."
"Got it. Come inside. I'll explain in here."
Under a flickering neon sign where only the letters 'OTEL' lit up, I went straight in through the glass door.
I hadn't parked the bike sitting right in front of the door, and the banknotes had materialized out of thin air,
but the owner beyond the counter silently handed over a key and told us to go to the 9th floor.
As I paid and took the key, Han Ye-ji stood frozen stiff like a malfunctioning machine.
Maybe she'd never been to a motel?