In the darkness, a blazing red fireball flickered nearby, its heat pressing heavily against my skin.

"Snap out of it, Viola!!"

"I—I'll never disobey Father again. So please…!"

My heart skipped. I couldn't hide my confusion.

What was happening to her?

Viola's entire body was shaking, the tremors so violent they showed no sign of stopping. She kept repeating those hollow words in a trembling, broken voice, as if she were begging someone who wasn't even here.

I forced myself to think.

When we met Count Amorin earlier, she had clearly been afraid. But even then, she hadn't collapsed like this. She'd been tense—yes—but still conscious, still holding herself together.

This was different.

Much worse.

Her condition had only spiraled after we entered this room.

No… more precisely—

After she saw what was inside it.

A realization struck me, cold and sharp.

Could this place be connected to her trauma?

Before I could hesitate any longer, I stepped closer and gently covered her eyes with my hand.

"Sob…! S-Sister…"

The moment her vision was blocked, the violent trembling began to ease. Her breath hitched, tears spilling over as she clutched at me, calling out to her sister in a small, broken voice.

I let out a slow, shaky breath, only then noticing how damp my palm had become.

Sweat—or maybe tears.

I didn't know.

But one thing was clear.

What kind of place was this… to drive her into such overwhelming terror?

I slowly turned my head, scanning my surroundings.

The atmosphere was still bleak—oppressive in a way that made it hard to breathe. The room was far too elaborate to be dismissed as some ordinary chamber. Everywhere I looked, grotesque instruments lay scattered about, each one clearly designed for a single purpose: to cause pain.

Blades with unfamiliar curves. Spiked restraints. Devices whose uses I couldn't even begin to imagine.

They were things I had never seen in this world before.

Which meant only one thing.

These weren't real.

They were born from Viola's dreams—no, her nightmares.

I took a step toward her, about to ask what had frightened her so deeply, when—

Thud!

The heavy sound echoed through the room, shaking the floor beneath our feet.

"Viola!!"

Count Amorin's voice thundered from beyond the door.

Viola's body visibly stiffened at the sound. The calm she'd barely managed to regain shattered in an instant, her shoulders trembling as fear crept back into her eyes.

…Persistent bastard.

Even for a nightmare, this was excessive.

I moved in front of her without thinking, placing myself between Viola and the door.

Then—

BANG!!

The steel door didn't simply open.

It exploded.

Fragments of metal and stone blasted inward as the entire wall caved in, dust and debris filling the air. Through the collapsing ruin, a massive figure stepped forward.

Count Amorin.

No—whatever this thing had become.

His body was even larger than before, unnaturally so, his frame swollen with grotesque strength. Veins bulged beneath his skin, and his already ferocious face had twisted into something monstrous—horned by rage, warped by obsession.

A demonic grin stretched across his face as his bloodshot eyes locked onto Viola.

"Where are you hiding, you wench?!"

For a split second, his monstrous presence made my body stiffen.

That overwhelming pressure—enough to crush an ordinary person's will on the spot.

But then I remembered.

This was my dream.

My domain.

And here, I wasn't weak.

I steadied my breathing and met Count Amorin's gaze head-on.

In the next instant, a bazooka materialized in my hands as if it had always been there. I didn't hesitate.

"Eat this!!"

I pulled the trigger.

BOOM—!

The missile slammed straight into Count Amorin's face, and a violent explosion tore through the space between us. Smoke and debris billowed outward, swallowing his figure entirely.

For a brief moment, silence followed.

Then—

"Get out of my way, brat!!"

The smoke was blown aside.

Unharmed. Not even a scratch.

Before I could react, his massive fist filled my vision.

"Gah—!"

My body was sent flying. I crashed into the floor hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

"Louis…?"

I forced myself up, shaking slightly as I staggered to my feet.

It didn't hurt as much as it should have—probably because this was a dream.

But the anger?

That was very real.

You dare slam me into a wall?

My vision burned red.

I ground my teeth, magic surging instinctively as I prepared to tear him apart with everything I had. I was already picturing it—overwhelming force, endless illusions, crushing him until nothing remained.

Then I froze.

Someone was standing between us.

"…Viola?"

My blood ran cold.

She stood there, trembling, her body stiff with panic as she blocked Count Amorin's path. She hadn't even noticed me shouting her name—her eyes were locked forward, wide and terrified.

Why is she there…?!

She can't take even one hit from him. Not even in a dream.

"Viola!!"

I shouted with everything I had.

Too late.

Count Amorin's fist was already descending, casting a massive shadow over her small frame.

*****

When did it start?

When did my kind, gentle father turn into a demon?

In every memory I still cherish, Father was always smiling softly at us. His voice was warm, his hands gentle. Our home used to be filled with laughter—quiet, ordinary happiness.

But somewhere along the way, that peace shattered.

Father's words grew harsh. His actions followed soon after. The smiles disappeared, replaced by cold eyes and short tempers. Before I could understand what was happening, violence became part of our daily lives.

Whenever things didn't go his way, he would lock my sister and me in the dark basement. No light. No sound. Just fear.

And then he would come down.

Because I was still young, most of that violence fell on my sister instead of me. Day by day, the wounds on her body increased—bruises, cuts, marks she tried to hide. Yet she never cried out. She never complained.

She endured it all in silence.

Even though her body was broken and every day was agony, she stayed strong—for me. Together, we clung to a single hope: that one day, the father who used to hold us in his arms would return.

But that hope was never rewarded.

---

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