Little Silva closed her eyes. In her mind, a black python materialized—nearly her own size.

It flicked a vivid crimson tongue. Glowing red eyes locked onto her, cold and lethally intent, as if ready to lunge any second and swallow her whole with gaping jaws.

Little Silva trembled violently.

When she was even younger, sleeping alone once, a black snake had slithered from nowhere. It hung upside down above her bed, staring for ten full minutes.

Those eerie eyes. The icy scales. Venomous fangs. The sinuous, twisting body. Beneath that smooth surface lurked silent death.

Every detail of snakes sent chills down her spine. From that day on, they became her deepest nightmare—haunting her dreams again and again.

Though snake-fear was etched deep in her memory, Little Silva forced herself to meet those crimson eyes.

“I-I’m not afraid of you!”

Her childish voice echoed in her mind—shaking, yet stubbornly firm.

“Big Bro said true adventurers fear nothing! And only by beating you will Mom and Dad take me seriously. So I *have* to win!”

Her teeth chattered, but she whispered fiercely inside: *It’s just a tiny snake. I’m an adventurer. I’m a princess!*

With that thought, her resolve hardened. The fear inside began to fade.

Startled by her sudden courage, the black snake coiled tightly.

Seeing it flinch, Little Silva stomped forward. Her small frame radiated bold defiance—zero fear left.

“I’m not afraid of you!”

The snake shuddered, then fled in panic, vanishing in a blink.

Little Silva froze, hardly believing she’d actually scared it off.

“Did… did I succeed?” she murmured, stunned. Had sheer willpower really conquered her fear?

But now… snakes didn’t seem so scary after all.

Around Roland and Little Silva, the hundred giant black pythons dissolved into nothing—as if they’d never existed.

She opened her eyes, beaming. “Big Bro! I did it!”

“You’re super awesome,” Roland smiled, ruffling her hair.

She didn’t pull away, grinning brightly. “Big Bro, let’s find Yaya! I want to introduce you. Oh… I still don’t know your name.”

“You can call me… a Reliable Adult Male.”

Roland wouldn’t reveal his real name. In dreams, every word shaped Silva’s subconscious. His earlier show-off had summoned a hundred snakes—caution was vital here.

“Reliable Adult Male?” Silva tilted her head. “Big Bro, that’s weird… Should I call you ‘Reliable Adult Male Bro’?”

“Just call me Big Bro.”

“Okay! Big Bro, why did beating fear feel so easy? I just steeled my heart—and the snake ran! I was scared… but after it left, the fear just… faded.”

Roland knew why. This was Silva’s dream. Her adult self feared no snakes—so that concept transferred when little Silva confronted her fear. Why not sooner? He didn’t know. This wasn’t a normal dream. It was a lethal nightmare woven by dark magic.

“You’re just that amazing,” Roland lied lightly. “You scared your fear away instantly.”

“Really? How amazing am I?” she pressed eagerly.

“Let’s see…” Roland scratched his head. “You’re a wealthy, beautiful young lady—the goddess and dream girl of countless admirers. Over ninety percent of the nation voted for you as next Empress. You’re brilliantly clever—stirring world events from your throne, swaying hearts as easily as breathing.”

Little Silva’s mouth formed a perfect “O.” “I’m *that* amazing? But… am I as amazing as you, Big Bro?”

“Of course not. I’m the one who can spank you over my knee.”

“No spanking!” She pouted, glaring. “It hurts! Mom spanks me when I misbehave. I don’t want that!”

*So even Silva was a little rascal as a kid…* Roland mused.

“Big Bro, let’s go! Yaya’s waiting!” She tugged his sleeve.

“Alright. I *was* curious about Yenoa.”

His adventurer’s instinct confirmed it: this was Yenoa’s dreamscape. Silva was pulled in by dream entanglement.

He’d always thought Yenoa was just a talented palace-raised maid—childhood friend to Silva, hence head maid. But the Goddess of Creation revealed she wielded ancient forbidden magic tied to the Creation Relics. *That scheming maid…* Today proved his suspicion.

The Augustin family—prosperous, extinguished over a decade ago—linked to the First Princess’s personal maid? Secrets buried deep. But Roland knew one person who might know: Emperor Onid. The Goddess herself named him a keeper of truths. He’d surely know Yenoa’s origins.

“Don’t call Yaya a ghost! She’s my *best* friend!” Little Silva huffed.

“Then do you know where she’s from?”

“Aren’t you a prophet, Big Bro? Why not prophesize it?”

Roland paused, adopting a sage-like air. “Prophecy magic isn’t simple. I used it for you earlier—I can’t cast it again yet.”

“Oh…” She nodded. “I’ll tell you while we walk. Yaya and I have been best friends since forever. I don’t know her background.”

Roland went silent.

“Do you remember when you met?”

“Hmm…” She scrunched her face, then shook her head. “Since I can remember. Before that? Blank.”

“How old are you?”

“Five. Almost six. Yaya’s the same.”

*Most people’s earliest memories start around three,* Roland thought. *She wouldn’t recall before then. So Yenoa likely arrived before age three.*

The Augustin purge happened over ten years ago. If Yenoa was connected… what happened eighteen years ago? Who were those red-robed mages? Why target the Augustins? Where were the Arcane Order and Racial Alliance?

Mysteries coiled in his mind. Truth shrouded in mist.

“Big Bro—someone’s ahead!”

He snapped alert. A squad of red-robed mages sprinted left—not toward them, but exposure loomed in seconds.

“Blink!”

Roland scooped her up. *Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!* They vanished into rubble. Smoke and broken walls hid them perfectly.

“Wow! Big Bro, you’re amazing! What mage rank are you?” she gazed up, starry-eyed.

“Merely a Sage,” he said modestly.

“A *Sage*?!” Her eyes widened. “Even Dad only became Grand Sage this year! You’re so young—you’re incredible!”

“You’ll be this strong too someday.” He peeked—the mages were gone.

“Big Bro, you’re handsome, powerful, *and* a legendary prophet! When I grow up, I’m marrying you!” She clenched tiny fists, eyes blazing with resolve.

Roland nearly choked. *Even as a kid?! Is her subconscious messing with her again?*

He threw up a big “X” with both hands. “Don’t even dream it. I will *not* marry you.”

“Why not?” Her face fell.

“Because I’m a pervert. I tell dirty jokes. Make lewd remarks. Marry me? You’d get tainted. Your noble image would shatter. Reputation ruined. People lose faith. Empire collapses!” He spoke gravely, desperate to crush the idea.

“But I’ve never heard you say anything bad! You’re handsome, gentle, funny!”

“I don’t believe you” was written all over her face.

“You doubt me?” Roland arched a brow. “Then I’ll show you my true colors.”

“*************”

“???!!!”

Little Silva’s face flushed crimson—like an overheating steam engine.

“You’ve never heard it because I protect your pure soul. The moment I open my mouth? Only forbidden words spill out. So please… abandon that dangerous thought.”