Little Squirt

"Robin Sear, how did you know the roses were at the center of the illusion?" Edward asked.

"Simple. The hall was full of food, and everyone was dressed to the nines, but there wasn't a trace of food or perfume in the air. An illusion—a recording—can show images and sounds from the past, but it can't reproduce smells. I could smell roses, though. That kiss made a perfect distraction!"

"Oh, I see! Then how did Ager, who's been single all his life, break the illusion?"

"We didn't need him. Norbert has a first-rate nose, too! The exit's appeared over there. Let's hurry through!"

The three of them had barely escaped the illusion of glittering nightlife when they entered an Illusory Realm torn by war.

An illusion and an Illusory Realm sounded similar, but they were worlds apart. An illusion was fixed: the people, scenery, and objects within it would not change in response to what you thought or did. An Illusory Realm could change—and it could hurt you.

An artillery shell exploded, hurling a dozen soldiers through the air. Some lay dead, their organs ruptured;

others had lost arms or legs but dared not cry out, afraid they would draw another bombardment;

still others picked up old rifles, only to find the barrels bent by the blast and not a single bullet in the chambers.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Smoke filled the air. The smell of gunpowder mingled with blood, stinging their noses.

"This is..."

"The Romanian campaign of 1944. That chaotic war between nations killed countless soldiers and civilians..."

Edward was in his early twenties. He had never lived through a war, but Romania had never been a peaceful country. Old footage and his elders' accounts had taught him what war looked like.

For a long time, he had suffered