“Mark my words, until you reach C-rank, you must never approach the barrier of the third-layer dream. What lies beyond isn’t just your own consciousness—it’s a tangled web of fragments from every person, every species even. That’s the wellspring of magic itself.”
Irina’s voice was grave, her words stripped of any jest, stirring a wary unease in Su Mu’s chest.
A matter serious enough to make Irina this solemn had to be dire indeed.
“Wait,” Su Mu said, her brow furrowing.
“Does that mean in the third-layer dream, you could touch someone else’s consciousness—or even slip into their dreams?”
“When you draw magic from others, you inevitably brush against their minds. As for entering their dreams, yes, it’s possible, but the risks are immense.”
Irina hesitated, as if weighing what truths were safe to share, before reluctantly revealing a sliver of the reality to Su Mu.
“But didn’t I slip into Luo Jialan’s dream without a hitch last time?”
“You built a temporary channel from the second layer. As long as it holds, you can return anytime. But the third layer? It’s a churning sea of chaos and instability. Stable channels there are a pipe dream.”
Su Mu nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting to the door handle before her, uncertainty creeping in like a shadow.
What now?
Her eyes flicked to the computer nearby, its screen casting a cold, uninviting glow.
The harsh light mirrored the vitriol that filled its pages—raw, unfiltered insults born from the heart.
A forum could be a cozy haven for discussion when the circle was small, a place where friendly chatter thrived, and any fleeting bitterness dissolved quickly.
But let the crowd swell, and no matter the corner of the internet, it turned into a chaotic mess.
People’s qualities varied too widely to keep the peace.
The Magical Girl Forum, despite its veneer of beauty and justice, drew the widest audience of all.
Even without trolls stirring the pot, its members could spark their own firestorms.
Strangers who’d never met could, in a handful of words, decide to tear each other apart as fiercely as mortal enemies.
“I want to go out and see for myself,” Su Mu said.
“Then go,” Irina replied, her tone neutral.
“I’m not stopping you. But don’t expect what’s behind that door to be any better than what you’ve got here.”
Irina’s words gave Su Mu pause, but staying put felt suffocating, like being trapped in a cage of her own making.
In the end, she reached for the handle, twisting it to face whatever lay beyond.
As the door swung open, no blinding light poured through, but a heavy shadow swallowed the space behind her, making the world ahead seem startlingly bright.
The moment Su Mu took in her surroundings, she instinctively stepped back half a pace.
Her foot met empty air, nearly sending her tumbling backward.
She’d opened the door with her left hand, a habit, and her right had gripped the frame just in time to steady herself.
Glancing back, she saw her left calf half-submerged in a shadow that devoured all light, spreading across the space she’d just crossed.
It robbed her of any sense of distance.
With no choice, she pushed the door wide and stepped into the unsettling space beyond.
A place that might—or might not—be called home.
The door clicked shut, sealing the shadow outside, silent yet alive with a faint, restless stirring Su Mu could sense but not see.
“Why did that area just… vanish?” she asked.
“That’s how dreams work,” Irina said lightly.
“Leave a space, and it collapses, like those maze game tiles that shatter once you step off. Have you ever had the same scene repeat in a dream?”
Su Mu considered it and realized Irina was right.
Still, the faint noises behind the door gnawed at her.
“But I swear I heard something moving back there.”
“Of course you did. Collapsed dreams need new material to fill the void. Those are fragments of consciousness weaving fresh spaces. But be warned—sometimes, nasty things slip in during the process. So, tread carefully in newly formed rooms~”
A chill ran down Su Mu’s spine.
She suddenly longed for a wall to press her back against.
Leaving her back exposed to the open air filled her with dread.
“No need to panic,” Irina said, her tone reassuring.
“The odds of a nightmare or witch invading the second layer are next to nothing—I explained why. Besides, you’ve got me. Anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll raid their lair first. By the time you wake up, their real self will be whimpering at your feet.”
What was with that gangster vibe?
“…Anyway, just wander around for now. If you get tired, use your handheld to zip back to the shallow dream layer and rest.”
Su Mu’s gaze swept the dim, colorless living room.
The woman wasn’t there, sprawled on the couch as she often was, and Su Mu felt a pang of loss—and relief.
Her fingers twirled the pink strands of hair falling over her eyes, inherited from that woman.
They were soft, striking, but Su Mu had never cared for them.
If she could, she’d dye them black, the most ordinary color, to blend into the crowd.
Yet every time she sat in a salon chair, the words caught in her throat, and all she managed was, “Just a trim.”
Maybe it was better to leave things as they were.
As long as today was happy enough, tomorrow didn’t need to matter—unless something worth looking forward to came along.
Something worth looking forward to…
Su Mu propped a pillow against the wall, kicked off her shoes, and leaned back, pulling out her handheld console.
It actually worked—and even connected to the internet.
She dove back into the Magical Girl Forum, silently scrolling through posts about her.
Su Mu rarely minded the slander or let rumors fester unchecked, except when it came to that label—’the little vixen’.
Crafting a perfect persona was exhausting, and Su Mu loathed pressure and effort.
As long as the worst didn’t happen, she could let things slide.
After all, most of what they said was true.
[“It’s been ages since Irina showed her face. Honestly, I kinda miss her trolling days.”]
[“Get trolled by that little vixen once, and you’ll behave.”]
[“Pfft, you lot are just too soft. In front of me, she couldn’t even protect her own driftwood.”]
Huh?
Su Mu squinted at the familiar username, clicking to check the profile.
Recognition hit her like a spark.
It was him—the guy who’d declared a “code war” on her the day she was exposed.
She knew he’d been utterly wrecked back then.
With a sly grin, she typed a quiet reply: ‘ “He’s right.” ‘
Her familiar rat avatar popped up, and the comments exploded.
[“??!”]
[“Hakii won the comeback match? Looks like Mamba’s out for good. Come back, boss, my faith! 😭”]
The chaos-lovers dominated, while the bold-talking guy fell silent for a long moment.
Then, a glaring comment caught her eye, and Su Mu couldn’t help but laugh.
[ “Genius girl Irina, you’re finally back! I’ll crack your code!”]