Drip… drip… drip…

In the damp, shadowy cell, mold crept across the walls.

Adults in military boots marched past, their dull thuds echoing in his ears.

This scene felt hauntingly familiar—he knew it all too well. Just another nightmare dredging up the past.

A past impossible to shake, now a constant haunting specter.

He hated this forced reflection on old pain, hated how these memories ripped open wounds just to spur himself onward.

His blue eyes, peering through stray strands of hair, tracked the towering figures moving back and forth. But the memory was too distant. In this dream, no face held clear detail.

Even his younger self couldn’t recall his childhood features. He looked down—only tattered rags remained.

“Seems someone else died…”

“Yeah… How could a kid that small possibly survive…?”

Yet those terrified whispers cut through the haze with cruel clarity.

Back then, death was daily. Wails spilled from the nearby instruction room.

A neighbor groaned in pain one day; days later, the stench of rot filled the air.

“How can something so cruel exist…?” an older child murmured, huddled and trembling.

“Waaah…”

Younger ones sobbed, words broken beyond recognition.

“That brat’s barely ten—how could he make such a cruel call…?!”

A bearded vagrant, soaked in strange chemicals and medicine, spat his final curse like a last flicker of life, railing against injustice with his dying breath.

“…That damn emper—”

“Are you trying to get us killed?!”

A boy clamped a hand over a young girl’s mouth the moment she stirred to echo the old man’s treason. He feared the nobles in elegant gowns strolling by like merchants inspecting goods—any whisper could drag them out for execution.

Yet everyone here knew. Everyone silently cursed those polished elites hiding rot beneath silk and smiles.

In this gloom, only candlelight held steady.

Beyond the dream, dawn had long arrived.

Evelia stood quietly outside Arman’s door. Right on schedule, she knocked and set the breakfast tray inside.

“…Hnn…”

Arman hadn’t risen. He shifted slightly at the sound, let out a soft grunt, then curled deeper into the blankets, refusing to show his face.

*Guess yesterday’s sleep aid really worked,* she mused.

She placed the tray gently on the table and glided closer with silent steps.

Sensing her, he peeked out—then grimaced and ducked back as sunlight pierced the curtain gap.

Evelia watched his sleeping face, a flicker of pride in her eyes. *I’ve got real talent for this.*

When he still didn’t wake, she crouched by the bed, chin resting on the edge, studying his furrowed brow. Even avoiding the light, he looked troubled.

Remembering last night—how her skill had soothed him, mended tensions, granted deep rest—she decided to try again. *If he grows to like this… it’ll boost his favor toward me.*

Slowly, she leaned in and blew a feather-light breath into his ear.

In the dream, everything twisted.

A strange sound. Then—a large pink dog appeared beside him in the cell.

*Where’d this dog come from?*

*Why is it… pink?*

The color blazed unnaturally against the gloom.

*How can a dog be this pink?*

Dream-Arman even pondered its breed.

“You—Huh?!”

Before he could process it, the pink beast pounced. Licking furiously, as if scrubbing his skin raw. Its weight pinned him; breathing grew hard.

“Hey—stop! Don’t lick—let go—!”

Arman jolted awake.

Eyes flew open.

Not the ceiling.

“Mmm…?”

Two soft, pillowy mounds of white. *Chewy-looking.*

Evelia had leaned over for better angle—her chest pressed flush against his face, shifting with each motion.

“…?”

Groggy and dazed, he stared at the white expanse. Ear tingling. Body buzzing. Panting sounds close by.

Evelia, noticing he was awake, gave his ear one final swirl with her tongue, licked her glistening lips, and pulled back. Her chest retreated with a gentle, springy jiggle as she stepped away.

“…Evelia?”

Blinking at the pink-haired girl, his half-booted brain whispered: *How’d the dog turn human?*

Then it clicked. *She looks just like that dog.*

As if possessed, he poked the “culprit” that nearly suffocated him. “Huh… surprisingly soft.”

He stared blankly, rolled over, and buried his face again. *Dog licking me one second, this the next? No way this is real.* After last night’s fluster… *Dreams reflect daytime thoughts.*

“Woken up by Evelia licking me… Why’d I dream *that*…”

Mumbling, he rolled over and drifted back to sleep.

Only when he opened his eyes again—Evelia still waiting bedside—did confusion settle deep.

He blinked at her. Processed.

A single syllable escaped:

“…Huh?”