[Space-Time That Might Exist] Dream

Inside the banquet hall, the lights flowed silently, like a tapestry.

Sense's gaze passed through the swaying figures and landed on the pillars at the edge of the hall. The two figures in dark uniforms were still standing there, their postures unchanged from a moment ago.

"It seems the Magical Special Forces have no intention of taking action."

Serie leaned back in her high-backed chair, her fingertips tapping lightly on the gilded armrests.

"Trying to reap the benefits without lifting a finger?" A smirk played on her lips. "To have such elite troops under your command, yet be so cautious... how cowardly."

"The 'cowardice' you speak of," Sense, turning his head slightly, his long brown ponytail swaying gently with the movement, "Is perhaps precisely what makes Imperial mages so troublesome. They rarely take risks, their actions are driven by the most efficient 'solution,' and every step seems meticulously calculated."

Serie gave a soft snort in response.

"Really? Sense, speaking of which, you've fought against the Magical Special Forces, haven't you?"

"Yes," Sense replied, his gaze shifting from the distance to his hands clasped in front of him. "Three First-Class Mages perished that time."

"It was done by that Magical Special Forces captain named Fres, wasn't it?" Serie's tone was somewhat indifferent, making it unclear whether she was asking or stating a fact. "Unfortunately, I didn't have more time to verify it back then..."

Her voice lowered, and the usual flamboyant smile on her face quietly faded. Her long golden hair fell beside her cheeks, and in the dazzling yet cold light, the lines of her profile revealed an elusive, almost frozen calm.

Sense looked at her and remained silent for a few seconds.

Do you think we will be able to successfully meet His Majesty the Emperor this time?

"Of course," Serie replied immediately, her expression returning to normal, as if the brief moment had been merely an illusion created by the light and shadow. "He will come. That guy is a rationalist to the core, cautious to the core, but he also understands the weight of the word 'decency' best. He'll probably bring far more followers than we do."

"Have you met His Majesty the Emperor?" Sense tilted his head slightly.

"I saw it once in Prophetic Dream." Serie picked up her wine glass, the pale golden liquid rippling gently on its crystal surface. "However, I won't tell you the specifics of what happened in the dream."

"Why?"

"Because I've decided to take a gamble." Serie took a sip of her drink, her gaze fixed on the deep night outside the window. "Win or lose, you'll definitely blame me afterwards. So, it's better not to tell you."

She put down her wine glass, leaned back, and sank completely into the soft, wide chair back, closing her eyes.

Fragments of memory flood back.

Prophetic Dream were empty and silent, with only the faint sound of her bare feet stepping on the cold stone slabs.

She walked up behind the figure. The person was dressed in a well-tailored black gown, standing with their back to her by the window, gazing at the dreamlike scene outside, seemingly unaware of her approach.

"Can't you sleep?" she asked, her voice clear in the quiet corridor.

The emperor did not turn around.

"Really," his voice came, steady and calm, showing no sign of being disturbed, "What on earth is Fres thinking, letting someone infiltrate here."

Then, he slowly turned around. His face was young, but his eyes held a calm that had been settling for a long time, like the water of a deep pool, without ripples.

"You're Serie from the Continental Magic Association, right? We're supposed to meet at the ball tomorrow night. Why the rush?"

"No," Serie stepped forward, closing the distance slightly, "I don't have time. I have something to tell you."

"I also have some questions I'd like to ask you." The emperor strode forward along the long corridor. "How about we talk as we walk?"

"Of course, as long as Your Majesty doesn't do anything unromantic along the way."

"I cannot guarantee that. Even if I did not intend it that way, Fres would not stand idly by."

She's not coming.

The emperor turned his head and glanced at her.

A few seconds of silence lingered in the corridor.

"... I see." He finally said, his tone devoid of much emotion, as if accepting a fait accompli. "You killed her. So, how things unfold from here on out depends on how you killed her. For her, death... was merely a tactic to buy time."

Serie's lips curled up in a smile, a smile that carried a hint of satisfaction and the exhilarating aftertaste of the battle.

"Indeed. So, I did my utmost to get a few more words with His Majesty. It was truly a thrilling battle."

"And," she added, her smile deepening, "It doesn't matter if she 'hears' here."

The emperor paused for a moment.

"'Here'?" He repeated the word, as if pondering its meaning, "Could it be...?"

He didn't press further, but turned and led her to a half-open door on the side of the corridor. Pushing it open, they found a small study, elegantly furnished, exuding an aura of books and the passage of time. On the table in the center of the room sat an ancient, lamp-shaped magical artifact, its design simple and sleek, with a cluster of cold black flames quietly Burning at its center.

The emperor walked to the table, his gaze falling on the cluster of flames.

"So that's how it is. I was in your dream. No wonder you could be so unrestrained."

How did you know?

The emperor pointed to the magical artifact.

"This is a magical artifact used to determine whether we are in a dream. If we are in a dream space, the color of the flame will change. Now, it is black. This means that this is a dream, and not mine, but yours."

"I see." Serie walked to the table, leaned slightly forward, and carefully observed the flames. Her golden hair slipped from her shoulders and fell to her cheek. "Right now, you're just a character appearing in my dream."

Her gaze then fell on the magical artifact itself, and she reached out, her fingertips gently brushing across its cool, smooth surface.

"How nostalgic. It was one of those little gadgets Flamme made when she was bored. I never imagined it could even work for Prophetic Dreams."

"Prophetic Dream Magic... it really exists." The emperor's gaze also fell on the flames, his voice filled with inquiry. "Legend has it that this magic originated in the age of mythology, and was considered one of the means to glimpse the future."

"Future Prediction? You could say that." Serie straightened up, walked to the window, and pushed open the lattice window. The night breeze rushed in, ruffling her long hair. "But this kind of magic... well, no need to delve into it. Just consider it as Future Prediction."

"So, in reality, you and I would meet like this?"

"No." Serie stepped onto the low windowsill, her bare feet touching the cold stone edge. "This is merely one of countless branches of the future. And I, this time, simply chose to step into this future. However, it seems it was all for nothing."

She gazed at the outline of the palace below.

"I didn't expect the person in my dream to see through it. This magic still has flaws. In this way, the predicted 'future' loses its meaning."

She leaned forward slightly, as if preparing to leap off the railing and end this futile conversation.

"This is the last chance. What a pity."

"Etc."

The emperor's voice came from behind.

Serie stopped moving and turned her face to the side. Strands of golden hair brushed against her cheek.

"If you don't mind," the emperor walked to the balcony, standing an arm's length away from her, "You might as well tell me what you originally intended to say to me. Your actions... seem like you're constantly trying something. How many times has this happened?"

"Even if you knew, what could you change?" Serie didn't turn around, her voice devoid of emotion.

"In the shadows, beyond my complete control, someone is plotting to assassinate you." The emperor's tone was frank, his gaze calmly meeting hers as she turned to look at him.

"Frankly, I don't think this plan will lead to anything good. For the sake of the empire's prosperity—no, even just to ensure its smooth and less ugly decline—I must stop this plan. Let's talk; it will be in our best interests."

Serie tilted her head, as if assessing the value of those words. Then, she suddenly changed her posture, gracefully turning and sitting down at the height of the windowsill, one leg bent, her hand casually resting on her knee. Her skirt slipped down, revealing her beautifully shaped calves.

"You mean, if I get intelligence from you, I can prevent the assassination, which would also benefit the empire in the real world—is that what you mean?"

"That sounds like a good suggestion, doesn't it? Tell me about your situation."

"Your Majesty," Serie leaned forward slightly, her emerald eyes gleaming with insight, "According to your logic, shouldn't you be the one who should be opening your mouth?"

"Serie, even if I intend to share information with you, I must first understand your current situation before I can determine what information I can share and what I cannot—"

"No." Serie interrupted him, a carefree and knowing smile slowly spreading across her face. She spoke clearly, each word distinct, "You... also... plan... to... take... the... information... back... away... as... you...?"

She tilted her head slightly, her tone carrying an undisguised admiration.

"What an amazing fellow. You actually maintain your 'self' at this depth... It seems this isn't just my Prophetic Dream. Rather, it's your consciousness that has formed some kind of deep connection with my dream."

Her gaze fell upon the emperor—there, a faint yet undeniable pure white aura of magic emanated.

"In reality, I'm taking a nap in the carriage on my way to the Imperial Capital. And Your Majesty, you're currently dozing off at your desk in the study. Am I right?"

The white aura of magic surrounding the emperor seemed to shift slightly as she spoke.

"Indeed, I possess a mental defense mechanism that embodies the essence of the Empire's Court Magic. It is the Crystallize of the Empire's millennia-old magical technology. Even I, as the caster, can no longer fully comprehend its principles. This situation is likely one of the effects of this defense mechanism."

He readily admitted that his voice was calm and even.

"After all, if the 'I' in this 'imaginary world' of Prophetic Dreams were to leak some crucial information without my knowledge, it could pose unpredictable risks to the empire. One of the purposes of my consciousness appearing here and linking with your dream is perhaps to... filter out the information that can and should be given to you."

After hearing this, Serie glanced at him, slightly speechless, her pointed elven ears seeming to twitch slightly.

"So you've confessed everything... For a ruler of a country, you're surprisingly honest."

"I am the Emperor." The Emperor leaned against the railing, gazing into the distance. "I am well aware of the potential future the Empire might face if these negotiations break down. Therefore..."

Serie leaped from the windowsill, landing barefoot lightly on the smooth wooden floor of the study. Her long golden hair billowed and then cascaded down with the movement, shimmering softly in the moonlight.

"Yes." Her tone was crisp and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

The emperor turned his face and looked at her.

"You've already agreed? I'm still trying to come up with more convincing arguments."

"Because I got the answer I wanted." Serie walked up to him, a knowing and arrogant smile on her face. "You believe deep down that the assassination plan was destined to fail. That's why your words and actions seem so passive right now. This isn't the way someone involved in an assassination plan thinks. The gap between your expectations and reality is too great, Your Majesty."

The emperor was silent for a moment, seemingly carefully considering every word she spoke. Then he asked, "Serie, what was the 'future' you saw in your Prophetic Dream like?"

"I don't know," Serie answered with unusual frankness. She turned and placed her hand on the cold railing, gazing at the night sky. "I died before that. My head was cut off, a quick and painless death. In the end, from my perspective, I know neither who killed me nor what happened after my death. So, it's truly fortunate to be able to see His Majesty like this. In the real world, there's no opportunity to have such an undisturbed conversation with His Majesty."

She turned her head slightly, glancing at the emperor beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"Now I can finally make some arrangements for what happens after me. None of my troublesome, incompetent disciples would agree to a plan based on my death. Now, we can finally have some constructive dialogue."

She turned around and looked directly at the emperor, her emerald green eyes shining brightly in the moonlight.

"This is a good suggestion for Your Majesty. Let's cooperate for mutual benefit."