The beginning of summer break, and Demund was currently at the start of something new, much like last year. Last year, he had discovered the dream. Now, he had discovered the truth about that dream.
He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling blankly. Normally, he would be reading, but currently, thoughts and doubts filled his head. They swirled within the chasm of his endless mind, connecting, breaking, reconnecting, trying to break free from his presumptions to make sense of the new information he had received.
That his dream world may indeed be a reality.
The doctor hadn’t been a hundred percent sure. He had recommended him to a research facility—the pamphlet was on the corner of his desk. His parents weren’t home as usual, and the lack of siblings made the whole place quiet and empty. Without anything to interrupt his thoughts, Demund’s mind was floating through the sky like a cloud.
He loved his dream; he really did. There had been multiple times when he had preferred the dream over reality. Actually, numerous times. Countless times. Comparing the two halves of himself, anyone in his position would have preferred the young identity that could do anything. That could make his imaginations true and feel powerful.
When he had lost his leg…he had dearly wished it. He had wished that his dream really was a reality. He had wished is so dearly that whenever he awoke, his temper rose slightly.
But there were things in reality that he simply couldn’t give up on. His hard work. His friends. His promise with Jothan and his promise with Enariss. He had made it through finals with pursed lips, determined to do his best, but he knew that what he was learning now was the basic of the basics. If he were to study amongst the higher realm of intelligence, his hard work—would it matter?
He had watched Enariss constantly. She, with her great intellect combined with her hard work, stood at the top of her class, if not the whole school. He felt weak when he saw her perfect character.
If only he were Shaden instead of Demund. If only, then he would stand a chance in the company of the perfects. If he were to ever lose in terms of test scores, then he had nothing…nothing to back it up.
No real skills. What could he do with one lost leg? A power that was close to nothing. A humble family background. Nothing he had could trump what Enariss possessed.
Sometimes he felt glad that the car had hit him. He had seen the reality of things and his position in society. The dream had uplifted him along with his company of wealthier friends, but he, himself—what was he?
He had sworn to rise to the top with his brain and hard work. Where superpowers existed, that was the only way for normal people to join the ranks of the supers.
But the pressure. The pressure of seeing a genius at work and seeing his own, lacking self. He was satisfied with his progress for now, but who would know what awaited him in the class of specials.
Everyone wishes at least once to escape into their imagination.
The doctors had said it. He had felt it.
He got up from the bed and looked at his hands.
Superpowers and magic. They had a lot in common. He had believed that the rules of magic in his world had been made according to his subconsciousness. But he had been intrigued to find out things he had never known before. Each piece of new information brought him a step closer to realizing that the other world was a separate reality.
But he hadn’t accepted. He just couldn’t. He knew that if he did, he would start caring less about his original world. He had tried to find objects to idolize and attach himself to after feeling his love for reality falter under the new stimuli. Enariss. Studying. Achieving good grades. Rising to the top.
Jothan. His promise with his best friend. But he was scared that he would lose himself in his imagination and become one of those who could not adjust to their real situation. And accept reality.
Why? There had been a time when he was infatuated with a game. He hadn’t left his computer for three days before Jothan came over and yanked him away from the screen. It was then he realized he became too immersed in things too easily.
He had tried his best to prevent the same thing with his dream.
It was a dream, he had told himself.
Focus on reality.
Focus on the things that really matter.
But if the dream was reality.
Would it be alright if he lost himself within it?
He held his head in his arms and curled up. There wasn’t anyone to comfort him anymore. School was over, along with the things he had focused on. He was truly alone.
How long would it take before he stopped caring about reality?
The doctors hadn’t been certain. But Demund knew the answer.
He went to the bathroom and sat in front of the toilet.
“Here goes everything,” he muttered.
With a deep breath, he poured his countless seconds of practice into his body—and circulated.
Immediately, pain filled his head and his eyes began to hallucinate. His whole body felt like he was being electrocuted, and he almost fell backwards. He let out a cry of pain and stopped.
Why. Why?
Why was it doing something at all? Why was it doing anything at all!?
He began to circulate again with his hands clenched on the toilet seat. Nausea exploded in his head, and his whole body felt like worms were burrowing through it, but he gritted his teeth and continued the process with a scream.
His different brain structure. This unusual circulation.
He had been fearful of circulating. Not because it was unpleasant, but because it meant that if it worked, if it brought out any change in his body, it would mean that his dream world—
Was more real than he wished it to be.
But the doctor had said it to his face. What was he supposed to do?
He stopped and fell on his back, panting. Sweat was dripping down his cheek, and he felt strangely energized and sick. It was different, but the same.
Circulation had worked.
Was he supposed to be happy that he could apply his experience from his dreams? Or struggle because if his dream was real, reality didn’t matter as much? He had spent so much time in the dream, and his family there was as real as his family here.
In fact, he spent more quality time with his other parents.
Pushing his thoughts away, he circulated again with full force—
And blacked out.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
〄 〄 〄
What?
Shaden blinked his eyes as he looked at a very familiar ceiling.
It hadn’t been night yet. Why was he here?
He furrowed his brows and let out a deep sigh. Perhaps…
Thinking about it logically. The doctors had said his brain structure had been altered. Which would probably mean that despite the same outer looks of the humans from this world and the other world, their bodies would have different properties. Because he had tried circulating in a body that was not used to it with a brain that could, something had gone wrong.
The reason for his blackout—he wasn’t sure. Forcing whatever it was that existed in the other world had done something to him.
What was it called? Potential. No, the more technical term for it was…SAP. The thing that gave superheroes their powers.
When he had breathed in to absorb the things in the air, he had felt it be absorbed inside of him. Just like mana. It had felt very similar to mana.
If both worlds were real, and SAP and mana both induced incredible phenomena, then it was entirely possible that they were the same thing. This body was more adapted to using mana while his other body was not.
There were too many uncertain factors. What if they were different particles? Yet, if they were the same, it would explain why his brain had changed. Why he could actually feel something be stored inside of his body.
He hadn’t tried circulating before he had gotten into the accident. But it probably wouldn’t have worked, given his different body structure.
The reason why he had felt so bad instead of refreshed was probably because of that too.
But why had he switched over to Shaden?
Perhaps…because dreaming for him was considered a superpower. If SAP and mana were one and the same, and he had absorbed it, it would have enhanced his abilities. Because he had increased his power over the threshold, it had forcefully transferred him over to Shaden.
It made a lot of sense.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
His family here was real. He loved them. That wouldn’t change.
Perhaps not much would change. Perhaps many things would. His mind was in a disarray, and he needed time to think things over. He had impulsively thought about neglecting his other world, but as his thoughts calmed down, he regained his proper senses.
Then suddenly, the darkness enveloped him.
〄 〄 〄
Demund eyes snapped open and he glanced around the room, about to panic. Where was he? The white walls, the mirror and the toilet below him; he was still in the bathroom.
“What the heck?” he said out loud.
He hadn’t stayed in the other world for more than a few minutes. Considering that he spent a week there every night, it felt…too short.
Why had he come back?
He groaned and sat up, then realized that his body felt a little icky. He still felt nauseous, and his vision was filled with light spots that came and disappeared. A word popped inside his head.
Mana poisoning.
He had read it once. If someone absorbed too much foreign mana whether it be by potions, circulating, or mana transfer, they would display symptoms of mana poisoning. It would start off with headaches followed by nausea, and a strange sensation like oil inside the body.
It had been written in the book about mana’s properties that his grandfather had given him.
While slightly different, what he was feeling reminded him of the book. No, compared to what the book had said, it felt worse. And usually, mana poisoning took a few days to dissipate, but for him…
After a few minutes, all of the symptoms were gone, and he felt fine. Just like before.
Was it because he possessed a different body? Then again, Shaden never experienced mana poisoning.
He laughed out loud. Whether it was because of his newfound truth or the sheer absurdity of it, or because he had found something fun or because it had ruined his set form of rules—he did not know.
But something had changed. But he didn’t know how to react.
With his friends gone and no one to talk to—
He was unsure.
He sat on the cold floor of the bathroom and rested his head on the toilet lid.
What was he supposed to do?
〄 〄 〄
Demund ate his food quietly and chewed slowly. He didn’t taste it; his body went through the motions without savoring the flavor.
“Demund?” asked his mother. Her face contained a hint of worry. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
His mother wasn’t satisfied. “Does it have to do something with what the doctor told you?”
Demund shook his head. He had forgotten that he had never told his parents about his power in detail. There was no reason to. But his mother had heard the conversation between himself and the doctor. She was sure to worry about it.
“It’s nothing. I’m just feeling down because all my friends went on trips, and I’m staying home.”
Mr. Blanner reached for a glass of water, his face suddenly displaying a tiny trace of guilt. The muscles on his face were vaguely contracted, and the shadow on his face grew deeper as he took a sip.
The table grew quiet again. They weren’t a family that talked much.
“How were your finals?”
“I think I did great. I got an email today that said I got accepted into the special class.”
“That’s great.”
Again, the silence continued. His parents were people who knew nothing else but work, so conversations outside of the topic were often short and bland. Demund didn’t mind it. After all, he too was used to this.
His father cleared his throat. “So, what about your injury? There weren’t any lasting symptoms, were there?”
“Not really. Except they said my brain wasn’t that of a human’s. Weird, right?”
“Not of a human’s?”
“It’s nothing important. You heard from Mom, right?”
“About your power.”
“Yes.”
His father nodded. “We are just glad that you are safe.”
“Thank you.”
The sound of chewing and silverware clanking on plates and bowls filled the silence.
“Will you run tonight?”
Demund stopped his food in front of his face.
“Yes.”
He would look over the neighborhood he had grown up in. Visit familiar places. It would help him organize his thoughts. Honestly, right now—he felt lost. And numb. And strange. Like some frozen turbulence in still motion. Cold and burning yet normal at the same time.
He would run.
“It’s good to keep your body healthy. Keep it up.”
Demund nodded.
“If you need anything, we’re here for you.”
Demund nodded again.
〄 〄 〄
“Yo, Shidey,” said Shaden.
The cat stared at him with squinted eyes. She was lazily relaxed on Shaden’s mattress, as if half-sleeping and half-observing Shaden’s movements. She yawned and fully closed her eyes, purring.
Ever since he began to mentally suppress his mana, the cat had become…less attached. She still enjoyed Shaden’s company, but she no longer constantly came and rubbed her body on Shaden, meowing all the time. Perhaps it was a good change.
Shaden petted the cat and got up from the ground. He had to make up his mind.
And resolving himself, he went to the living room and spotted his mother. Melany was on the couch, sleeping peacefully. It was the perfect time.
“Mom?” asked Shaden.
His mother raised her head from her knitting and smiled.
“Yes~?”
“Are you…real?”
It was a stupid question, and Shaden knew it. But he wanted to make sure for the final time. Make sure that this world was beyond his comprehension, something that actually existed outside of his mind. He wanted to hear from his own mother’s lips of what she thought about his question.
“Of course I’m real, darling~ I’m not a ghost?”
“Well, Mom…sometimes I keep having these thoughts. I keep thinking that my life is a dream.”
“A dream?”
Shaden nodded. After an expression of pondering, Melsei motioned for Shaden to come sit next to her on the table. Shaden walked up and sat in front of the chair in from of his mother.
“A dream, you say?”
“Uh-huh. A really good dream.”
“Mmmm…”
She raised an eyebrow and looked up, putting her hand on her chin. Shaden wondered what kind of words she would say to her son who would almost turn seven. There was no way she would know about his power if she were a true resident of another world.
“Sometimes I think my life is a dream too.”
What?
“What do you mean?” asked Shaden.
“Having you, Rother, and Melany, a wonderful husband, a good home, and food to eat. It feels like a very good dream to me.”
She smiled sweetly, her kindness enveloping her eyes. “I’m just like you!”
With his mother’s looks, wasn’t it natural that she would be happy?
“But every bit of it is real. This happiness is real,” she stated.
“How can you be so certain?” asked Shaden. “How do you know it won’t end?”
“Well…” Melsei scrutinized Shaden’s face and put her hands together. “Are you scared that it might end, Shaden?” She saw something in her son’s face that she couldn’t quite label, but it looked worried, troubled.
“I don’t know.”
To Melsei, Shaden was her son, her baby boy. She got up from her chair and gave Shaden a hug. She wasn’t educated. She couldn’t give her son great life advice or words of wisdom. But what love she had, she had given it all to raising her family with love and care, accepting their decisions while guiding them to a life of kindness. She knew the dark side of the world and knew even better what kindness could do in people. She had received it, and it was the only thing she could pass on.
So, she held onto her small son tightly, comforting him.
“Mom…?”
“I won’t let it end,” she assured. “Your happiness, I will protect it.”
Shaden didn’t understand why his mother said those words, but something inside of him melted.
A hug was what he needed. All this time, all his suffering and worries, his doubts and fears—and one hug was all it took to calm him down.
He didn’t cry. He almost did. He didn’t know why he felt this way. But his mother’s hug felt warmer than everything else in the world, safer than the strongest castle. The way she patted his back…was very comforting.
“Did your grandfather mistreat you?”
“What? No. I had a great time.”
She nodded. “Now, do you feel better?”
Shaden inhaled a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Do you want to stay beside me while I knit?”
“…yes.”
Without another word, Melsei motioned to Shaden to come to her. Shaden got up from his seat, followed his mother, and stood uncertainly as she motioned for him to sit on her lap. But upon her insistent stare, he approached and sat down.
It…felt surprisingly nice. And comforting.
“I was knitting something for your dad. We can do it together~!”
Shaden smiled brightly and happily watched his mom’s fingers move across the cloth with her needles. He relaxed comfortably on her lap.
She was definitely real. She was his mother.
This world was real.
It was time to accept it.