Iuno's world had been a place of numbers, of black ink on white paper, of the quiet, predictable order of a balanced ledger. Her dreams, when she had them, were mundane, anxious things forgotten deadlines, looming audits, spreadsheets where the columns refused to add up.
She had never had a dream like this.
She was a disembodied observer, floating in a vast, dark chamber where the only light came from a great, glowing map carved into a massive obsidian table. The air was cold and smelled of ozone, old stone, and a faint, metallic tang of blood. Around the table stood terrifying, magnificent figures a being of craggy rock and barely contained strength, another who seemed to be woven from living smoke, and others clad in jagged, black armor. They were monsters from a forgotten age. And yet, she felt no fear of them. She felt… their loyalty.
Their fierce, expectant gazes were all fixed on a single point. A great, obsidian throne. And she knew, with a certainty that was as instinctual as breathing, that she was the one sitting on it. She could feel the immense, crushing weight of a crown on her head, the cold, unyielding power of the throne at her back. She felt a wave of weariness so profound it was a physical weight, the burden of a thousand decisions, of a million lives resting on her shoulders.
Then, a presence at her side. A figure in serene, greyish white robes, a woman who stood in the heart of this dark, demonic court like a pillar of calm, unshakable light. She could not see the woman's face clearly, but she felt a profound, absolute sense of trust, of safety, of a love so deep it was the anchor of her entire existence. The woman's presence was the only thing that made the crushing weight of the crown bearable.
The rock like general slammed a gauntleted fist on the glowing map. His voice was a low, angry rumble, speaking words in a language she had never heard, yet understood perfectly. "The righteous sects are amassing at the border, Your Majesty. We must strike first!"
She felt herself raise a hand, a gesture of quiet, absolute authority that silenced the rumbling giant instantly. She was about to speak, to issue a command that would decide the fate of a world…
And she woke up with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She was not on a cold, obsidian throne. She was in a soft, ridiculously comfortable bed in a sun drenched Parisian apartment. The air smelled not of ozone and blood, but of fresh linens and the faint, sweet scent of croissants from a bakery down the street.
She sat bolt upright, clutching her head, the dream a vivid, searing afterimage in her mind. The feeling of the crown, the weight of the power, the absolute loyalty of those monstrous generals… it had felt more real than the soft sheets tangled around her legs.
"Are you alright, Miss Li?"
The voice was calm and steady. Iuno looked up and saw Aylin, already dressed in a simple but impossibly elegant silk blouse and trousers, sitting in an armchair by the window. She was sipping from a delicate teacup, looking at Iuno with an expression of mild, analytical concern.
"Director…" Iuno stammered, her voice shaky as she tried to push the dream away. "I… I'm sorry. I had the most bizarre dream."
"Oh?" Aylin asked, taking another slow sip of her tea, her composure a stark contrast to Iuno's frantic, disoriented state.
"I was… I think I was a queen," Iuno said, the words sounding absurd even as she said them. "In a dark castle. It felt so real. There were monsters… but they weren't scary. They were my generals." She looked at Aylin, a new, dawning confusion on her face. "And you… you were there," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You were standing right beside my throne."
Aylin placed her teacup down with a soft, deliberate click. She had felt the echoes of the dream through their bond all morning a chaotic swirl of power, duty, and a deep, familiar affection. Her plan was working. The cracks were forming.
She fixed Iuno with a look of calm, professional rationality, the perfect mask for the triumphant, hopeful storm in her own heart. "Dreams are often a manifestation of our waking anxieties and aspirations, Miss Li," she said, her voice smooth and reasonable. "You have recently been granted a great deal of new authority and responsibility here at the firm. It is not surprising that your subconscious is processing this shift by casting you in the role of a 'queen' and your colleagues as your 'generals.'"
She paused, her gaze unwavering. "As for my presence in this dream, we have, as you know, been spending a great deal of time working closely together. It is only natural that your mind would place me in the role of a trusted advisor or confidant. It is simply a neurological reinforcement of our new, productive, professional dynamic."
The explanation was so logical, so psychologically sound, so completely and utterly plausible, that Iuno felt a wave of relief, and a little bit of foolishness. Of course. That had to be it. It was just a stress dream. An epic, world spanning, monster filled stress dream.
"Yes," she said, pushing a hand through her messy hair. "Yes, of course. You're right. It was just… very vivid." But even as she said it, she looked down at her own hands, half expecting to see the pale, powerful, ring adorned fingers of an Empress. The logical explanation made sense, but it didn't explain the profound, ancient feeling of it all.
Aylin, seeing that the immediate crisis had passed, stood up, her tone becoming brisk once more. "Now," she said, "let's get some breakfast. We have a full day of 'researching' the architectural principles of the Musée d'Orsay ahead of us. The Vanguard project waits for no one."
Iuno nodded, trying to shake off the powerful, lingering echoes of the dark castle. She tried to convince herself it was just a dream. But as she got ready for the day, a new, persistent, and deeply unsettling question began to form in the back of her mind.
If that was just a dream… then who am I when I'm awake?
The new and fragile tension from the morning's dream settled between them. Iuno was quiet, introspective, the echo of her impossible dream a constant, humming presence just beneath the surface of her thoughts. She found herself stealing glances at Director Moon, searching the serene, beautiful face for some answer to a question she didn't even know how to ask.
Aylin, for her part, was a study in careful, deliberate observation. She knew the dream had unsettled the foundations of Iuno's reality. Now that a memory of duty and power had surfaced, her next move had to be precise, a gentle but firm push to awaken another, more essential piece of the soul she so desperately missed: the heart.
Their "research" for the day took them to the Musée d'Orsay, a grand, cathedral like building of glass and steel that had once been a train station. The art within was different from the stoic, ancient relics of the Louvre. It was a world of vibrant, emotional light, of fleeting moments captured in passionate, almost chaotic brushstrokes.
They walked through the sun drenched main hall, Iuno with her notepad, ready to take notes on "philosophical synergy," Aylin with her hidden agenda. She led them to a gallery filled with the works of an artist named Monet.
"Observe these pieces, Miss Li," Aylin instructed as they stood before a series of paintings depicting the same water lilies in different lights. "The artist was obsessed with a single moment, painting it again and again, trying to capture its truth from every possible perspective."
Iuno looked at the paintings. The accountant in her was initially confused. "It's… inefficient," she said softly. "The lines aren't clear."
"Is it?" Aylin probed gently. "Or is he simply showing that a single object can be a hundred different things, depending on how you see it?"
Iuno fell silent, truly looking. The swirling colors, the focus not on a perfect, static image but on the feeling of the light on the water… it resonated with something deep inside her. "It feels… more true than a perfect picture," she admitted. "Like a memory. You never remember the whole thing perfectly, do you? Just… the feeling of it."
Aylin's heart ached with a quiet triumph. Yes, Lian. You're beginning to understand.
She guided them onward, to a quieter hall dedicated to sculpture. In the center of the room, two figures carved from white marble were locked in a passionate, eternal embrace. Rodin's The Kiss.
Aylin stopped before it, her expression unreadable. "And this, Miss Li?" she asked, her voice a soft challenge. "What is the 'strategic purpose' of this?"
Iuno stared at the sculpture. The raw, desperate passion in the piece was breathtaking. The way the man's hand rested on the woman's hip, the total surrender in the woman's form. It was a perfect, frozen moment of absolute, all consuming love. As she stared, the cold marble seemed to melt away.
A powerful, intensely sensory memory, more vivid than any dream, flooded her. It was not an image, but a feeling. The cool, smooth stone of a pagoda's balcony against her bare back. The secure, strong press of a woman's body against hers. The scent of Netherworld night blooms and the unique, peachy fragrance of an Empress. And the taste of a kiss a kiss that held a decade of longing, a desperate farewell, and an unbreakable promise.
The vision was so powerful, so overwhelmingly sensual and filled with a love so profound it made her soul ache, that she gasped, stumbling back a step. A feeling of the most intense, heartbreaking loss for a moment she had never experienced, for a lover she had never met, washed over her. Her face flushed a deep, painful crimson, and she had to look away, her heart pounding in her chest.
Aylin was there in an instant, her hand a gentle, steadying presence on Iuno's arm. She could feel the violent, chaotic echo of the memory through their bond a storm of passion, love, and then profound, tearing sorrow.
"It is a powerful piece," Aylin said, her voice a soft, grounding murmur. "It speaks of a connection that transcends… time."
Iuno looked up at her, her eyes wide and full of a million terrified, unspoken questions. "Director… I…"
Overwhelmed by her own wave of shared memory, of the pain of that farewell kiss, Aylin almost slipped. The name was on the tip of her tongue. "Lia " She caught herself, turning it into a sharp, rasping cough. "It is… a little overwhelming in here. The air is quite thick. Perhaps we should take a break."
They found themselves in the museum's quiet café, sitting at a small table overlooking the Seine. Iuno was silent, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea she wasn't drinking, her mind clearly reeling, trying to make sense of the beautiful, passionate memories of a lover she had never met, who for some terrifying reason, felt so much like the woman sitting right across from her.
Aylin watched her, her heart aching with both hope and a rising fear. The memories were returning, not as dreams, but as powerful, conscious flashes. But they were memories of the most intense emotions of regal power, of deep duty, and now, of a passionate, heartbreaking love. The process of awakening was becoming more volatile, more dangerous. She was piecing her Empress back together, one memory at a time. But she was beginning to fear what would happen when Iuno was finally whole and had to face the full, crushing truth of the life, the love, and the daughter she had lost.