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The guest contacted from outside the dream has vanished, leaving behind an empty spot.

In that spot, nothing remained.

The sculpture, which should have crumbled into salt and sand, vanished as if to say that this place was not where it belonged, dissolving into the air as effortlessly as a fleeting echo of consciousness, merely returning to the realm of the unconscious.

And left in that spot were Park Jinseong and the White Girl.

Park Jinseong turned his head to look at Anastasia, who had come to deliver the package.

Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.

She was at the entrance of an alley near the building, accompanied by a strange cactus.

The silver cactus, about half Anastasia’s height, seemed to be teaching her martial arts, displaying dazzling movements, using punches and kicks that looked like kickboxing techniques.

Every time its spiky hands moved, the sound of the wind cutting through the air echoed, and each time its blunt feet moved, they caught the moonlight and the glow of the streetlights, drawing a singular line.

Anastasia tried her best to mimic the movements of the cactus, but since she hadn’t properly learned martial arts, each attempt came off as awkward, much like an elementary school student trying taekwondo for the first time.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

However, whether it was due to some basic learning ability or the cactus having a special power brought from the dream, it was evident that her martial arts moves sharpened with each repetition.

Perhaps it’s just the quick learning curve of a beginner at the start.

Park Jinseong watched Anastasia practice diligently and slowly opened his mouth.

“Asha.”

“Hmm? Jinseong?”

Upon hearing Park Jinseong’s call, Anastasia turned her head in response.

Her breathing was heavy as if she had been working hard, with beads of sweat trickling down her face and neck. The slightly tired look in her eyes seemed to convey that she hadn’t heard a word of what Park Jinseong had said, as if her entire being shouted it.

“It might have been a boring conversation.”

“Really?”

Yes.

That was just how it looked.

Park Jinseong was well aware that the act Anastasia was putting on at that moment was just that—an act.

He had seen her pull such stunts many times during their mercenary days.

Park Jinseong had often watched as Anastasia would seem to ignore what others were saying or doing while she was deeply engaged in something else, as if pretending to be oblivious.

Before her return, Anastasia had referred to it as “an intelligent method of information gathering using her solidified image,” and in reality, it worked quite effectively. Anastasia, whose actions and thoughts were utterly unpredictable, often got a free pass for such behavior, perhaps due to her usual conduct.

Additionally, the reason for not prying or doubting her was that it would invite her retaliation.

Before her return, Anastasia never let anyone who provoked her or questioned her off the hook, and even if it was justified, she would ensure to enact some sort of mild revenge unless it was completely unavoidable.

Such retaliation was justified by arguing that suspicion among comrades could cause divisions and hamper teamwork.

Well, even if her revenge consisted of playful sparring with the cryptid from the dream or mildly scary games of hide-and-seek or having nightmares, it was still something.

And Park Jinseong was no exception to that light-hearted kind of revenge.

Perhaps it was because they were close, or maybe it was just because he was a shaman who could retaliate effectively if she retaliated against him.

“Haha. I know you were listening.”

Having observed such behavior from her, Park Jinseong recognized it easily.

So while she had changed quite a bit in appearance and personality since before her return, he could swiftly spot that old habit of hers.

“…Hehe.”

Anastasia chuckled bashfully.

She then scratched her head and, after a moment’s indecision, let her hands pause briefly before returning to the task of unbinding her ponytail.

With a swift motion, she freed her hair ties and tossed them at the cactus.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The silver cactus gleefully jumped around, picking up the hair tie that Anastasia had thrown as if filled with joy.

It had once belonged to the cactus before it emerged from the dream, but now, having been snatched by Anastasia, it was readjusting its position and almost lost its ownership due to the passage of time, but now it proudly wrapped the precious hairband around itself again.

Perhaps due to the difference in size between Anastasia and the cactus?

Or perhaps due to the stark difference between a cactus and a human?

What was merely a hair tie for Anastasia became a martial arts belt for the cactus.

Even a pretty convincing one at that.

Swoosh.

The cactus, now satisfied with its belt, gave a thumbs-up.

And with a soft rustling sound, it slowly began to fade into the background.

As if it were satisfied…

…thus the silver cactus concealed its form.

It hadn’t actually attained enlightenment—just returned to an immaterial state.

Perhaps it was a cryptid endowed with such a power.

It wasn’t surprising.

Many of the things Anastasia brought from the dream possessed unique abilities.

“It’s an amusing cactus, isn’t it?”

“Whoa! Are you interested?! Speaking of that cactus, it reminds me of the time I went to a rainbow desert filled with plastic and colored sand—”

“Hahaha.”

It was glaringly obvious that she used the cactus to escape from an embarrassing situation.

Well, for those unaccustomed to such things, it might’ve seemed like a clever escape.

A silver cactus giving a thumbs up as it fades away like a character from a movie… unless it involved a significantly important topic, one couldn’t just overlook that.

Even if one tried to ignore it, the remnants of that would linger in the back of their mind and distract them.

“You don’t have to be that flustered, Asha.”

“Hmm?”

“It wasn’t that grand of a conversation.”

With a sly grin, Park Jinseong remarked.

“Of course, it might be a bit different from Asha’s perspective. The person who just delivered the package was someone who helped you in the dream, right?”

“Hmm~”

Anastasia crossed her arms and closed her eyes at Park Jinseong’s words.

She tilted her head slightly as if lost in thought and then suddenly opened her eyes wide.

Her contemplation was very brief.

By numerical standards, it barely lasted a second.

One could say she hadn’t truly pondered over it, but merely recalled a pre-concluded answer swiftly.

She looked at Park Jinseong with her red eyes and said,

“I don’t think it matters!”

As if it were nothing of importance.

“Well, I didn’t receive it out of obligation nor was it pure goodwill—I guess you could say it’s a neat transaction? A business relationship? Something along those lines, haha!”

Anastasia’s clear eyes locked onto Park Jinseong’s.

Her red eyes.

With alabaster hair and snow-white eyelashes that seemed to descend from the heavens.

Her pale skin reflected the moonlight.

A dreamlike aura, as if enveloped in fantasy.

She was recalling those moments in the dream.

Roaming the dream with Ella and meeting Ashtosh Singh, receiving guidance in exchange for a one-time access right to the now-expired collective unconscious network (surface)…

That was enough to harbor a slight goodwill towards the figure known as Ashtosh Singh, and since they had exchanged glances, it was a relationship that could be said to have blossomed. But it was merely a transaction.

Buying food impulsively on the street or purchasing cheap trinkets from stalls was no different—a common exchange.

While such a light-hearted encounter might indeed count as a relationship,

it certainly wasn’t more important than Park Jinseong.

Naturally.

“That’s why I don’t mind what Jinseong does.”

The smile of a girl standing on the border between reality and dream.

The smile of a traveler exploring the dream while anchoring in reality.

The unconscious was her territory, her home, her playground.

But her real home existed in this realm.

The anchor she had dropped would help her stay grounded and avoid drifting away.

One of those anchors was, indeed, Park Jinseong.

That’s why she meets him in dreams and doesn’t cling to the relationships that ended there.

What’s important is the anchor.

Her benefactor, her connection.

The ones who allow her to exist in the reality—not just dreams or consciousness….

“Is that so?”

“Yes~”

Anastasia and Park Jinseong’s eyes met.

Within her clear, red eyes, a profound window to the heart lay hidden, contrasting starkly with the exterior of a young girl.

The essence of deep human emotion, with experiences that allowed her a glimpse into the bizarre insanity that adorned the dream.

While the experienced brutality evident in her eyes before her return was long gone—what remained were the sprouts of pure brutality slowly growing, still in a bud state.

Acclimated to the boundaries of dreams and reality through indirect observation.

The pure brutality befitting a mercenary, a sincerity only a carnivore might harbor during their childhood.

“Ah, is there anything I can help with?”

Anastasia asked dreamily.

With a smile reminiscent of her pre-return self.

And Park Jinseong recalled the past.

Had it been back then, he would’ve pondered that question for at least a moment, but—

“No. I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Haha.

Park Jinseong chuckled.

 

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