"System, this isn't a dream, right?" Seamus asked, his voice unsteady.
[Yes, this is very much reality.]
"Can you give me some kind of sign? Like… red on the screen if it's reality and green if it's a dream?"
[Your Sagacitas is too low. You can't generate that feature yet.]
Seamus dragged his fingers through his disheveled dark hair with a frustrated groan. "What is Sagacitas even? You keep mentioning it without giving me any explanation!"
[It means many things, but mostly it is keen perception, a reflection of the state of your mind.]
[It can be used for many things: to control power, to shield yourself from the Psyche Blood Style, and to lessen the impact of their mind games or attempts at mind control.]
"Just that? Just for that blood style?" Seamus muttered, his voice flat as he rose to his feet.
He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine, the weight of the last few days—or however long it had been—bearing down on him.
He didn't even know how many days had passed anymore.
[Yes. The Psyche Blood Style is extremely dangerous. Unlike combat-based Blood Skills, once you are inside their realm, you cannot fight freely. Not unless you possess high Sagacitas.]
"Yeah, right…" He swirled the wine slowly in his glass, watching the fire crackle softly in the hearth.
It was the only sound in the room, a gentle reminder that he was still here, still breathing.
"I… my mind's a mess. I can't think straight right now," he admitted quietly, lifting his trembling hand and staring at it.
"Huh. Look at this—I don't even know if all of this is real or not. And here I am, talking to a system I'm not even sure exists."
He let out a hollow laugh.
"Since when was I inside a dream? Was it when I first set foot in this mansion? Or…" His voice cracked. "Am I still in my house, asleep, dreaming all of this?"
"I remember sleeping after the first meeting Isolde…" The room seemed to tilt as dizziness washed over him, and he collapsed back onto the sofa with a sharp exhale.
"Ugh. My head."
[The blurring between reality and a dream is the side effect of Isolde Velstrath's power, called: Somnium Eternity.]
"I see…" Seamus whispered as he shut his eyes, trying to calm his breathing.
It felt like he had forgotten so much. Pieces of dreams, or maybe memories, slipping through his grasp.
He remembered a woman calling his name, blood dripping down his face.
He remembered a mother and daughter walking toward a dark sky.
He remembered… his father? On some kind of honeymoon?
"Damn, my memory is a mess," he muttered as he rubbed his temples, frustration clawing at him.
But one thing Seamus remembered clearly.
"Viviane!"
Seamus stood up abruptly and opened the door, intent on finding her. The last time he'd seen Viviane, she had been in pain, her body seared with burns from her own power. The memory alone twisted his chest with worry.
But when the door swung open, she was already there.
Viviane stood in front of him, hand raised mid-air as if she'd been about to knock. Her startled eyes met his.
"Viviane!" Seamus reached out immediately, gripping her shoulders as he scanned her up and down.
No burns or wounds. No trace of the agony he'd seen before.
"You're healed? That fast? Ah, right… You're a vampire."
He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "What am I even talking about… Come inside."
Viviane simply nodded and followed. The silence that settled between them as they sat together on the sofa was suffocating. Her usual spark—cheerful, sarcastic, unbothered—was completely gone.
Seamus broke it first. "Viviane, you… You're really alright now?"
She kept her eyes on the half-empty bottle of wine on the table. "I'm not wounded because it was all inside a dream. Every wound isn't real except for the pain."
"I see…" Seamus exhaled and forced a laugh. "I'm glad."
Viviane's fingers slipped over his, holding his hand firmly. Her gaze finally lifted to meet his, dark and unflinching.
"Oh no, don't be glad. My mother is dangerous, Seamus," she said softly. "If you die in her dream, the scars don't stay on your body, they stay in your mind. In your soul. You'll keep breaking a little more each time you die there until there's nothing left."
Seamus gulped. "That's worse than death."
"Exactly," Viviane murmured, her grip tightening. "You need to be careful of her. She'll always find a way to get what she wants, whether it's with kindness or cruelty."
She lowered her eyes, voice trembling just enough. "And… you already gave her what she wanted, didn't you?"
Seamus froze at the weight behind her words.
"I'm sorry, Viviane," he said quietly. "I should've asked you first. I shouldn't have done it at all."
She didn't answer right away. Her lips pressed together, and tears began to pool at the corners of her eyes.
Viviane tilted her head slightly, letting one slip down her cheek as she whispered, "I keep picturing it… You're with her. With anyone else. It makes me feel like I'm… nothing to you."
Seamus' chest twisted painfully. "That's not true—"
"But it feels true!" she cut in sharply, her voice cracking. "I've always been second to someone else. My mother, this house, everyone. And now you too?"
She swallowed hard, looking small and breakable. "It's like… It's like I'm being replaced before I even had the chance to be yours, Seamus. Do you even know how much that hurts?"
Seamus hesitated, words dying in his throat. He hated how easily her tears undid him.
Viviane pressed her advantage, leaning forward, her trembling hands clutching his shirt as she buried her face against his chest.
"I'm sorry," she whispered shakily. "I know I tried to kill you before. I know I was wrong. But I was so scared, Seamus."
"Scared that you'd leave me, scared that you'd stop loving me… scared that I was just a burden you'd throw away when someone better came along."
Seamus felt his own guilt sink deeper. "Viviane, I would never—"
"But you did." Her voice was muffled against him. "You already did, with her."
He had no answer for that.
Viviane let her silence linger before lifting her head slowly. Her tears made her eyes glisten, red-rimmed and desperate.
"You still love me the most, right?" she asked softly, voice trembling. "Tell me I'm not imagining that. Tell me I'm not just… one of many women you'll hold when you're lonely."
"I—"
"You don't have to say anything," she interrupted quickly, forcing a trembling smile. "I'll believe it if you just stay here with me."
She cupped his face in both hands, stroking his jaw with her thumb as she stared straight into his eyes. "I can erase her from you, Seamus."
"Her touch, her scent, her mark. You won't think about her, or anyone else. I'll make you forget them all for a short moment."
Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth, lingering there as her voice dropped to a whisper.
"You want to do it with me, Seamus?" she murmured, breath warm against his ear. "Right now? Before breakfast?"
"If that's what it takes to calm you down and stop blaming yourself, then I'll do what you want, Viviane," Seamus said, his tone steady and serious despite her obvious attempt at flirting.
Viviane's face softened, breaking into the bright, familiar smile she always wore when they were together. She leaned into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders.
"I'm calm now, Seamus," she whispered, her voice warm. "And… I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess without telling you the truth first."
She brushed her fingers lightly over his shoulder, her touch lingering. "None of this would have happened if we'd just been honest with each other from the start."
Her smile slowly shifted into a grin, and a shadow passed through her eyes, turning them darker.