Chapter 538: True... Curse! (Large Chapter!)

Chapter 538: The True... Curse! (Grand Chapter!)

Kallen acknowledged Madame Felsher’s profound mastery over illusions, yet her simple act of setting him aside in the drawing-room felt somewhat disrespectful to his own past experiences; at the very least, Bishop Dolph, newly enshrouded and not yet interred, would certainly have felt aggrieved.

It was a pity Bishop Dolph was as dead as dead could be, otherwise he would surely have raised his knee and kicked the coffin lid with his boots to vent his fury.

Everyone possessed their own specialty based on the path they trod, and Kallen’s specialty had always been his own soul—for whenever his soul was mentioned, it was impossible to bypass that dog at home.

Perhaps because it had been mentioned far too many times, the creature's head had long failed to sprout any fur and remained bald to this day.

Right now... it stung terribly.

How could Filomina have forgotten to warn him that her grandmother fancied poking people’s eyes?

Had he known, he would have prepared a bottle of eye drops; his eyes felt parched and thoroughly uncomfortable.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette case, extracted a single stick, and bit down on it, but as he prepared to flick his lighter, Kallen paused; there was no need for eye drops, for carrying them on and off the carriage wouldn't have brought them here anyway.

By the same token, this pack of Thunder cigarettes, which he treated as a spiritual cough syrup, was pointless to smoke; it was all an illusion.

Smoking would likely yield a taste, given he had smoked before, but that would be utter self-deception.

Standing up, he rested his hand against his neck and rubbed it gently; though everything around him—including his current self—was false, existing entirely within a specific illusory construct, the tactile sensation remained exquisite.

It was as exquisite as the furnishings inside this dilapidated villa; though stifling, it was vivid. To think this was merely one layer of a dreamscape, left behind after its master departed, yet it could still maintain such refinement.

A faint radiance began to expand outward with Kallen at its center. Observing the marks on the floorboards, which looked as though they had been dragged by a bloody mop, Kallen followed the trail into the bedroom.

Upon the mattress inside the bedroom, Madame Felsher was cradling Filomina, grandmother and granddaughter having already drifted into a sweet slumber.

There was another curled up beneath the bed.

Kallen squatted down and turned sideways, focusing his gaze on the one beneath the bed; his chest rose and fell continuously, his injuries severe, yet his countenance was tranquil.

Kallen knew Filomina possessed a dog-like father, but at least now, from that sleeping face, not a single abnormality could be discerned.

Straightening his posture, Kallen walked over to Filomina’s side and sat down by the edge of the bed.

Filomina was unclothed, her skin exceedingly pale, possessed of a healthy fullness that would indeed be difficult to perceive had her garments remained on.

Well, at a time like this, there was no notion of what should or shouldn't be seen.

Back in the office when she bathed, Kallen’s demand for her to respect her privacy was correct, but now, this was akin to a mission; long ago, Peige and Fannie had taught Kallen this lesson through practical actions.

Moreover... this was not reality, but a dream.

Kallen pressed the back of his hand to his lips and let out a yawn; a spiritual injury bound to bring about such fatigue, though as long as it wasn't a direct physical brawl in reality, it was of little consequence.

This was also the reason he had permitted Filomina to alight the carriage and enter first; once grandmother and granddaughter entered the dreamscape, he would follow, and Madame Felsher would only be able to employ her illusory hospitality against him.

As for her actual combat prowess in reality—let alone the fact that Kallen’s soul carried heavy injuries making the use of spells highly inconvenient—even at his peak as a newly advanced Arbiter, Kallen lacked confidence in trade blows with this old lady.

After all, ignoring the past glory of the Felsher family’s hereditary Chief Bishops, simply considering she was a figure who once moved in the same circles as his grandmother made it difficult to fathom her true strength.

In any case, he had never truly grasped the extent of his grandmother’s abilities; his sole vivid impression was a time he stood outside Richard’s door with no intention of entering, only to turn around and see his grandmother—who was supposed to be upstairs knitting sweaters at home—carrying a vegetable basket as she coincidentally returned, feigning a chance encounter to warmly drag him inside for a visit.

Kallen observed for a moment, noting that both Filomina and Madame Felsher bore natural expressions.

He was in no hurry to enter, knowing Filomina possessed her own set of preparations; from a tactical perspective, regardless of whether Filomina succeeded, allowing her to exhaust the enemy first before he entered at the final moment yielded the highest efficiency.

After all, in Madame Felsher’s eyes, he, the unexpected variable, had already been dealt with.

Standing up once more, Kallen approached the bedroom window and pushed it open.

Originally, Kallen wished to catch a bit of rainwater and cool wind, the dryness in his eyes making him crave moisture.

Yet the heavy downpour outside transformed the instant the window opened into a verdant lawn bathed in bright sunshine.

In the distance, a woman was galloping upon a white horse; due to the distance, her features remained indistinct, though Kallen felt that even from up close, she would remain obscured, for that distant region bore a misty, blurred quality.

This scene could not help but remind Kallen of the past when he and Eunice rode horses through the Allen Manor.

Or perhaps, what resembled it was not the scenery, but the atmosphere.

Professional habits from his past life left Kallen highly intrigued by the details of others' dreams, for people loved to lie and disguise themselves while awake, yet in dreams, they often abandoned their guard.

Kallen hesitated for a moment, then vaulted out of the window, landing upon the grass.

In the distance, the riding figure was no longer flickering, growing considerably clearer than before.

But the grass beneath Kallen’s feet began to soften, turning gradually into a quagmire, his feet already sinking deep within.

Yet Kallen chose not to resist, closing his eyes instead as his entire body fell backward.

Thud!

The green quagmire seemed to instantly turn into a pond, submerging Kallen entirely.

Huu...

There was no sensation of drowning, nor the suffocating oppression of being buried alive; Kallen merely felt as though he had rolled over, the ground beneath him returning to emerald grass, the air filled with the fragrance unique to spring.

Before Kallen could stand,

A pair of horse hooves appeared in his field of vision.

Stranger, there is a very familiar sensation about you.

The young woman’s voice drifted down from above.

I am a doctor, Kallen replied as he stood up. If I feel familiar to you, it proves that you need me right now.

Heh, do you mean to say I am ill?

What else?

You know, I never thought a doctor would ever come here to treat an illness.

I only appear where I am needed.

Very well, doctor, please tell me, what is your name?

My name is Kallen.

Mm-hmm, I haven't heard of that name.

Inmemores.

You, say that again!

...

Clack, clack...

Kallen climbed back through the window, dropping onto the floor with bits of grass still clinging to him.

He began to habitually pat down his clothes, and at the same time, he heard the sound of teeth grinding coming from beneath the bed behind him.

He turned to look; the expressions of the grandmother and granddaughter upon the bed remained unchanged.

Kallen walked to the bedside once more, raising his hand as a Chain of Order flew from his palm, circling Filomina’s body before gently wrapping around her smooth neck.

Oh?

Kallen was slightly surprised; he believed Filomina should have sensed the arrival of his aura, and by all rights, she ought to have willingly relinquished all instinctive resistance to allow him entry.

Her complete lack of response now could mean only one thing: within her own dream, she had entirely surrendered control.

Karen closed his eyes, and the Chains of Order withdrew from Philomena’s neck, coiling once in midair before lunging downward to pierce straight through her chest.

It was just like encountering a jammed lock upon entering this ruined villa; though it wasn't bolted shut, it wouldn't open normally, leaving no choice but to kick it in.

"Thud!"

...

On the bed inside the small wooden cabin, Philomena snapped her eyes open.

At the same instant, her grandmother’s voice drifted into her ears:

"What an exquisite little cabin. No wonder you never had any demands for your own bedroom and never cared for toys; it turns out that in your dreams, your bedroom actually has everything it should.

It’s just that it looks rather naive and conventional, like an illustration straight out of a children’s storybook.

Oh my, I really didn't expect that my granddaughter, grown as she is, would still be so much like a little child."

A withered hand fell upon Philomena's face, stroking it gently, and before the girl could rise, her grandmother stepped down from the bed ahead of her.

Philomena then sat up.

"Oh?" Madam Felsher noticed the breakfast on the wooden table, reaching out to pick up a piece of bread, lifting it to her lips for a bite. "The taste is quite decent."

Immediately after, Madam Felsher looked down.

She saw a face peering out from between her own legs—a face identical to her own, rubbing against her trouser leg and panting with its tongue out, begging for food like a dog currying favor.

In truth, she was a dog.

"Hehe... Hahahahaha..."

Madam Felsher burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears began to stream down her face.

She lowered the half-bitten slice of bread down to the "self" beneath the table, and the "self" on the floor instantly opened her mouth, snapping up the bread to chew and swallow ravenously.

"So, this is how your grandmother has always looked in your dreams."

Philomena remained silent.

"However, this doesn't surprise me. You are my biological granddaughter after all, and I allow you to have a bit of a temper of your own. We are girls, after all, and we should always have the privilege to throw a little tantrum, shouldn't we?"

Madam Felsher turned her head to look at Philomena sitting on the edge of the bed. "But it's just as I said before: naive, still so naive."

A black spot appeared on Philomena's forehead; her neck tilted back, and her fists clenched tight.

Following that, a halo of grey light spilled from between her brows, and when she lowered her head again, her entire expression seemed far more vivid and alert than before.

She stood up and walked toward her grandmother.

"Not bad, to be able to break through my restriction. Or rather, you deliberately wanted me to enter your dream, but what was the point?

After all, no matter what, I would have chosen to come in anyway.

You don't understand your grandmother. Even though you've lived with me for so many years, you still don't comprehend me.

Do you know where the reason for your naivety lies?"