My annoying step-sister was asleep beneath a luxurious duvet. Her face, usually etched with arrogance, now looked innocent.

Seeing her in such a helpless state, a twisted, victorious smile spread across my lips. Did she really think she could escape me? Did she think that by destroying the house and taking my two playthings, she had won?

But a nagging question surfaced. I didn't know how Gwenneth's bedroom could be here. As far as I remembered, I had never slept with her. Or... had she slept with me while I was unconscious? When? My face darkened. Was it during that time I gave her a massage? Whatever. The important thing was that I could now visit her in her dreams.

I approached the bubble containing Gwenneth's bedroom. With vengeful desire, I grabbed a few strands of her hair. Instantly, the dark space around me shifted, spun, and reformed.

When my vision cleared, I was standing inside a spacious, luxurious apartment.

This had to be her hideout.

I walked down the hallway and easily found the master bedroom. There, Gwenneth lay fast asleep.

I approached her, gazing at her haughty face, now softened and vulnerable in sleep. After everything she had done to me, I wanted to pay her back with excruciating pain.

But was that the right approach here? I knew I could make her feel real sensations, but were there limits? Like how you wake up from a dream of falling just before hitting the ground, would excessive pain also jolt her awake?

Let's test it.

I imagined heavy iron chains emerging from the darkness, coiling around Gwenneth's wrists and ankles, binding her tightly to the bed. A black cloth blindfolded her eyes, and a ball gag stuffed her mouth. In her dream, Gwenneth woke and began to struggle, trying to break free, but it was futile, of course.

Then, I visualized a large, noisy chainsaw appearing in my hand. I pulled the starter cord, and the machine roared to life with a terrifying hum, its teeth spinning wildly.

BRRRRZZZZZZZZZ!

The blind and mute Gwenneth suddenly stiffened, her head turning panickedly towards the source of the frightening sound. I brought the spinning blade close to her leg.

BRRRZZZ—CRUNCH!

The metal teeth shredded flesh, splintered bone, and sprayed blood everywhere. Gwenneth convulsed violently, a long, choked, rasping groan forcing its way past the gag. Real, palpable agony radiated from every fiber of her shaking body.

But, just as I suspected. Less than a second after the saw bit in, the world around me suddenly cracked like glass. And I was jolted awake.

I gasped for breath, my body back in the bed next to the sleeping Zoey.

'So it's true,' I thought, slightly disappointed but intrigued. If the pain is too extreme and sudden, the victim wakes up immediately, severing my connection.

I lay back, staring at the ceiling, a cruel smile playing on my lips. In that case... what's the best way to torture her? Slow, drawn-out pain? Psychological torment? Or... a mind-bending mixture of pain and pleasure? This required more... creative experimentation.

After my failed torture attempt on Gwenneth, I used [Dreamweaver] once more. This time, however, Gwenneth's bedroom was no longer among the dream bubbles. Apparently, the horrific experience had prevented her from sleeping again tonight.

So, I decided to switch targets.

My eyes landed on the bubble showcasing the room of Angeline, my sweet, angelic little step-sister. With far friendlier intentions, I stroked her rosy lips.

The same swirling sensation, and this time I found myself standing in Angeline's cute, doll-filled bedroom. She was sleeping soundly, her pretty, innocent face looking utterly peaceful.

I woke her gently.

"Brother...?" she mumbled sleepily, her eyes slowly opening. The moment she saw me, her face showed a surprising clarity for someone just roused from sleep.

"I... I'm dreaming about you again," she said in a small voice, her cheeks flushing.

I smiled. "This is your dream, Angel. I'm just a shadow created by your own thoughts."

Hearing that, it was as if a dam broke. Her usual shyness and hesitation instantly vanished, replaced by a raw, innocent longing.

"If... if this is really my dream," she whispered, her eyes glistening, "then I can be honest, right?"

She nestled her face against my chest."I... I've missed you so much, Brother. I've missed your touch... your hugs..." her voice grew even softer, almost inaudible, "...I even... missed the taste... and the feeling of your big dick in my mouth..."

Hearing her innocent yet so vulgar confession warmed my heart. She truly was a good little sister. She had completely become mine.

"You really are a good girl," I praised, stroking her hair.

Encouraged by the praise and the safety of believing this was just a dream, Angeline grew bolder. Shyly but determined, she began her 'attack'. Her small hands pulled up my t-shirt, and her little mouth began kissing and licking my chest and stomach. Her movements were somewhat clumsy and tinged with embarrassment, which only made her more enticing.

While enjoying her adorable assault, I started asking questions. "Where did Gwen take you two?"

"She took Mom and me to her secret apartment," Angeline answered without hesitation, continuing to lick me.

"Oh, really? Where is it?"

"Near the Caldrium Guild Office, Avalon Residence, in the tallest tower. The 40th floor."

I nodded, storing that information. "What is Gwen planning? What is she doing right now?"

"Big Sis Gwen wants to cure Mom," Angeline explained, pausing to look up. "Mom still hasn't woken up since drinking that strange milk. Gwen has called many doctors and specialist Awakeners, she's even looking for artifacts that can heal Mom. She said... she has to save Mom from... from..." She hesitated, as if reluctant to say my name.

"From me?" I supplied gently.

Angeline gave a slow nod, her face a conflict of loyalty towards me and worry for her mother. "Mom won't wake up, Brother. I... I'm worried."

So, Delilah was still comatose from the drugs Gwen herself had administered, and my big sister was desperately trying to heal her mother—which meant, trying to break my control.

Holding Angeline's small body, I smiled.

.

.

.

The following night, I activated [Dreamweaver] again. This time, with more focused determination. I entered the dream space, and my eyes immediately sought a specific bubble. There, among the other rooms, Gwenneth's bedroom had reappeared.

I immediately chose to enter her dream.

The familiar swirling sensation, and I was back in her luxurious apartment. This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake. Direct physical torture had proven ineffective. I needed a more... subtle, deeper approach. I would use her own memories as my weapon.

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