“Almost there.”
Three hours had passed since the train ride began. One stop left, and then the next would be Estelle.
He glanced around. None of the passengers within his peripheral vision had woken up yet.
Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye.
Without turning, Vanitas extended his hand in that direction and released a Windblade spell. The force tore through the air, dispersing the figure instantly.
“That makes it 93,” he muttered, lowering his hand.
From time to time, the mafia spirit would reveal fragments of itself. It wasn’t a real threat or anything. Just a slight annoyance and a waste of mana.
“Sigh.”
He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair, and leaned back.
His gaze shifted to the window, watching the landscape blur past. The train was still moving steadily toward Estelle.
Passengers who weren’t mages moved about occasionally, heading to the dining car or simply stretching their legs.
Everyone on this route to Estelle knew about the phenomenon. It was an unspoken rule not to question why so many passengers ended up asleep.
First-timers, however, often looked bewildered. But the warning posters plastered across every car spelled it out clearly:
[WARNING: Do not be alarmed if everyone in your car falls asleep. This is a natural occurrence for mages heading to Estelle. Please remain calm.]
Just then, another flicker appeared near the ceiling. A wisp of the mafia spirit was testing him again.
“Tsk.”
Clicking his tongue, a gust of wind swirled through the car, scattering the wisp like smoke.
He glanced at Astrid. She was still unconscious. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
For her to remain like this so long meant she hadn’t found a way to break free from the spirit yet.
It didn’t matter, though. Once they arrived at Estelle, the phenomenon would end, and Astrid would wake up, along with the rest of the unconscious passengers.
Still.
None of the mages seemed to have woken up inside the VIP compartment.
The train came to a stop, then started again after a brief pause.
Vanitas frowned.
For mages who remained unconscious when the train reached their stop, the crew ensured they were taken off at the correct station.
That’s why passengers had to state their destination before boarding. Once dropped off in the station, they would receive protection until they woke up.
However, that wasn’t always the case. There were instances where mages never woke up due to the spirits overpowering their mental fortitude.
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.
After an hour, finally, the train slowed again. Vanitas stood up, steadying himself as it came to a halt.
——…..
The announcement system buzzed, but there was no voice.
He looked outside the window.
“….”
….This wasn’t Estelle.
The station outside was dark. The platform was empty. There were no staff, and no passengers waiting to board.
The train let out a low whistle and began moving again before Vanitas could take a closer look.
“What the…?”
He glanced back at Astrid. She was still unconscious, and then at the rest of the passengers.
“….”
At that moment, Vanitas turned to the side. The last stop should have been Estelle. Four hours had passed since the train’s departure, yet it was still moving.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Mafia bastard! Get over here!”
No response.
Frowning, he sat back down and glanced out the window. On one side, he saw a mountain with a lone tree in front. On the other, a steep cliffside.
His eyes narrowed as he observed the scenery.
The train came to another stop. Vanitas rose and scanned the car, noting the still-sleeping passengers. Moments later, the train resumed its journey.
“….”
That made it the ninth stop. Estelle was supposed to be the eighth.
“Haha….”
A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.
When the train stopped for the tenth time, Vanitas paid closer attention to the surroundings.
His gaze locked onto the tree, tracing the lines etched into the bark.
Ten marks.
Just as before.
The train started moving again, the mountain and cliffside blurring past the window. When it came to the eleventh stop, Vanitas rose and studied the tree once more.
Still ten marks. Not one more, not one less.
“I get it….”
Realization dawned upon him.
“The tree is there, but the station’s structure changes to avoid my perception.”
He was in a loop.
This entire time, he had been trapped in the same cycle.
“Nevertheless, it was the same station, just slightly altered….”
And perhaps, just like Astrid and the others, he was unconscious in the real world.
There were powerful spirits capable of overpowering a mage’s mental defenses. This wasn’t common knowledge, especially early on, when the true nature of these spirits wasn’t widely understood.
In any case, the most notable ones were Abyss and Chronoa.
Abyss was a spirit known to trap people in a dream so realistic that they remained unaware they were dreaming.
The only means of escape was to find the exit hidden within the dream.
Another was Chronoa, a spirit who induced a sleep state, similar to that of Abyss, but with a different twist.
Victims were caught in a loop within their dream, and were forced to repeat the same events over and over until they figured out the key to breaking free.
These spirits were notorious. Many unlucky individuals, when faced with such encounters, would simply restart from an earlier point and avoid the route that led to the spirit’s game.
Why?
Because they couldn’t figure out how to escape.
A 24-hour unconscious state was common. These people would be taken under custody by the station, and would try to assist them until they woke up.
Though anything beyond 24–hours wasn’t normal.
Spirits like Abyss and Chronoa were known to trap their victims far longer, sometimes indefinitely, leaving them in a coma-like state until they broke free.
“Why didn’t I notice this earlier…?”
It was a rhetorical question. He already knew the answer.
Dreams often worked that way.
In a dream, the lines between reality and illusion blurred. Everything felt tangible, sounds, sights, even emotions.
The brain filled in the gaps, creating a world where nothing seemed out of place. That’s why people rarely questioned the logic of their dreams while they were in them.
In simpler terms, he hadn’t noticed because he wasn’t supposed to.
“Chronoa.”
Vanitas stood up.
Breaking free from Chronoa’s grasp was actually fairly simple once the player understood her patterns.
In the original game, Chae Eun–woo had navigated her minigames multiple times. Chronoa’s trick was always the same.
“Which one?”
Chronoa’s games relied on the participant playing by her rules.
No, to truly break the loop, he had to defy logic itself, even by real-world standards.
Leaving the train wasn’t an option—that would be a guaranteed failure.
He turned to the unconscious Astrid.
Vanitas narrowed his eyes.
“Chronoa.”
He reached out and gripped Astrid’s neck.
“You might be misunderstanding something,” he said coldly.
His grip tightened, and Astrid’s face began to lose its color, turning pale and purple as her veins bulged.
“I’ve played this game dozens of times.”
Her body remained limp as he applied more pressure.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve killed an ally while playing your games.”
His tone sounded as if he was stating a fact.
“In-game, of course.”
He smirked.
“Windblade.”
A sharp gust of mana shot forth, severing Astrid’s neck. Her head fell forward, landing with a dull thud on the floor as her body slumped lifelessly in his grip.
Vanitas stared at the scene for a moment, waiting.
The train jolted. The air around him cracked, like shards of glass breaking in slow motion.
The world started to dissolve, fragmenting into pieces before disappearing entirely.
A mocking laugh echoed in the void.
——Well played. Such brutal resolve.
Vanitas stood still. “Let me go.”
——That arrogance of yours. How long do you think it’ll last before it breaks?
“No idea,” Vanitas replied coldly. “I’m a dying man anyway.”
——When a spirit plays, they can peer into the unconscious mind of a person.
Chronoa’s voice continued.
——Did you know that?
“….?”
Vanitas tilted his head.
“Know what?”
——Accumulated data.
“….”
——I’ve peered into countless minds, filling in the blanks, piecing together truths and lies people are unaware of.
Vanitas frowned. “What are you trying to say?”
——You are a sinful man.
Vanitas opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
——At least…. the one before you was. But you….
Chronoa chuckled in amusement.
——I’m surprised you managed to claw your way back.
“What are you—”
Before Vanitas could respond, the void shattered completely, and everything went black.
Vanitas jolted awake, his body slumped over the table in the dining car.
“….”
He straightened up, feeling his muscles stiff and his head pounding.
Around him, a few passengers stood nearby, some in robes, others in elegant attire.
“Ah?” he muttered, blinking his eyes.
“Sir,” someone said. “We were just about to assist you. Thank goodness you woke up.”
Vanitas rubbed his temples, feeling the dull throb of a headache.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Have the other passengers woken up?”
“Yes,” another person replied. “There’s only two of you who haven’t.”
“How long was I out?”
“Three hours, Sir.”
“I see,” Vanitas said, leaning back in his chair.
Most mages broke free from the spirits’ games within two hours. Anything longer was rare and a cause for concern.
The true danger arose if someone remained unconscious with only one hour left before reaching Estelle.
“Shitty spirit….” he muttered under his breath.
A dream.
A realm where logic was warped, and memories could be twisted.
Unless someone gained awareness and control over their consciousness, questioning the dream’s reality was impossible.
In this context, Chronoa had manipulated the very fabric of his perception and embedded false rules into his consciousness.
In other words, everything he knew before he gained sentience was bullshit.
“Wait, two?” Vanitas asked. “Who’s the other one?”
The man glanced around nervously before leaning closer to whisper.
——….The normal passengers don’t know, but the mages who tried to assist recognized her.
Vanitas’s brows shot up.
—….It’s the Princess.
Without hesitation, Vanitas stood and strode toward the VIP compartment.
The doors slid open. His gaze immediately landed on Astrid, still unconscious in her seat.
Around her, several concerned mages had gathered, attempting to help her.
“What are you doing?” Vanitas demanded.
One of the mages turned to him. “We’re trying to wake her, but it’s not working.”
Vanitas narrowed his eyes. “Step aside.”
“Sir, please identify yourself,” another mage said. “If someone were to harm the princess, it would be considered an Imperial Crime.”
Vanitas pulled out his Silver Tower University license and held it up.
“I’m her professor.”
“….”
The mages exchanged uncertain glances before finally stepping back. Vanitas moved to Astrid’s side and crouched down.
“Still breathing,” he muttered, placing two fingers on her wrist.
Her pulse was steady but also faint.
He stood and faced the mages.
“Leave, I’ll handle this. Your interference won’t help and could make things worse.”
“But—” one of them began.
Vanitas’s cold glare silenced him. “I said leave.”
Reluctantly, the mages dispersed, leaving Vanitas alone with Astrid.
He leaned closer and examined her pale face. “Astrid, wake up.”
“….”
No response.
Vanitas sighed, placing his hand on her forehead.
“Guess I have to drag you out myself.”
He took hold of her arm, tracing the veins that connected her mana core to her wrist.
Closing his eyes, he began channeling his mana.
Every person had a natural mental barrier designed to prevent external interference.
But in an unconscious state, these barriers weakened, allowing spirits to overpower them and play with their minds.
To enter someone’s mind and breach their barrier required a deep understanding of the person. To break through their mental walls layer by layer.
Vanitas, after countless replays, knew Astrid better than most.
He knew her habits, her likes and dislikes, what brought her joy, what made her angry or sad, her passion, and her dreams.
And most importantly, he knew her future.
A future where, if left unchecked, she would become a villainess and a military weapon, manipulated by her own brother.
Perhaps, he knew Astrid even better than she knew herself.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in Estelle.
“Ah?”
No wonder she couldn’t wake up.
The spirit manipulating her consciousness created an exact replica of reality. It was a continuation of the events from where she left off.
Vanitas glanced around, taking in the bustling city. Announcements about the academic conference reached his ears as he walked.
“Judging by the detail and accuracy….”
He sighed when he arrived at a single conclusion.
“Abyss.”
——So they inflate the prices in the market, Professor?
——Yes, but inflation is a bold term. They’re quality items.
Vanitas turned his head upon hearing those words. His eyes landed on Astrid.
She was walking with someone.
Someone familiar.
“What the…?”
That someone was him. Vanitas Astrea.
“What the fuck?”
Without hesitation, Vanitas rushed toward them.
“Ukeh—!”
But before he could even come close, he slammed into an invisible barrier, stopping him in his tracks.
“Shitty bastard,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the unseen wall.
Left with no other choice, Vanitas began following them discreetly, keeping his distance.
The more he observed, the more baffled he became.
“Is this a date!?”
It certainly looked that way.
The impostor Vanitas was casually touring Astrid around Estelle, pointing out landmarks, making jokes with a stern face, and explaining things.
Astrid, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, rebutting his jokes and even laughing.
Vanitas shuddered at the sight.
“What kind of shitty illusion is this?”
No, he totally felt a chill run down his spine.
“If this is Abyss…. then there’s a vantage point.”
A climax.
Abyss’s illusions always led to a pivotal moment in the victim’s consciousness.
If the victim failed to break free at that point, escaping would become nearly impossible.
Vanitas clenched his fists.
Abyss must have been aware of his presence and erected the barrier to prevent him from interfering.
However, the vantage point was tied to the victim’s inner thoughts. It was something even Abyss couldn’t control.
“The conference.”
That was the vantage point.
***
Perhaps, to give some clarity to Astrid, Vanitas tried approaching her as himself.
However, the moment Abyss—his impostor—looked at him, Vanitas instantly dispersed.
“Shit.”
He found himself back on the train, still holding Astrid’s arm.
“Again.”
This time, Vanitas chose a different approach. He appeared as someone else.
“Astrid.”
He was now Irene—the Irene he remembered from the game.
To avoid suspicion, Vanitas acted differently from Irene’s usual cheerful demeanor.
He glanced at both Astrid and the impostor, who stood before him. Knowing he wouldn’t have much time, he dropped subtle hints for Astrid not to trust appearances.
Abyss noticed.
Vanitas was ejected again.
“Again.”
This time, he appeared as Franz.
Astrid was visibly caught off guard, so Vanitas changed his tactic.
“Astrid, can you help me find the exit?”
His insistence seemed to take Astrid aback. However, Abyss himself seemed to have gotten Astrid’s trust.
Vanitas was ejected once more.
“Tsk.”
He tried again, this time appearing as Ezra.
His approach was more direct and persistent, almost as if he were broadcasting his intentions. Abyss likely realized Vanitas was trying to pull Astrid out of the illusion.
For a brief moment, clarity washed over Astrid.
But before she could fully process it….
“Tsk.”
Abyss clicked his tongue. The world darkened, and Vanitas was thrown out again.
“Shit.”
This was harder than he thought.
When he returned to Astrid’s consciousness….
“Uh–huh?”
He was inside the Imperial Estate.
Turning to the side, he saw her.
——Wow~! There’s so many birds! Look, Alexia!
——I’m glad you’re happy, Princess.
Astrid stood surrounded by birds, her face lit with joy. Beside her, a maid smiled warmly.
But something was off.
This wasn’t the Astrid he knew.
This Astrid was much younger.
“….”