Fiction
Rule: Character names are fixed as provided.
Chapter 1. Meeting in a Dream
This relationship must never slip beyond the bounds of a dream.
In this world of honesty, where anything was permitted, it was the one rule that could never be broken.
“You’re only sweet here. You’ll just turn cruel again later.”
I traced the bridge of his nose lightly with my fingertip, then brushed back his golden hair as I murmured the words.
A rosy fragrance drifted through the garden, weaving between flowerbeds heavy with buds on the verge of blooming.
At the heart of this secret garden, where golden pollen shimmered in the air, lay a paradise that could never exist in reality—and right in its center, he rested with his head on my lap.
The crown prince—so handsome it bordered on arrogance—let his long lashes fall in a languid close.
As if the air itself were sweet, he drew in a deep breath, pressing his face into my palm with quiet insistence. The gesture was almost like a pet seeking the warmth of its owner.
The tendons on the back of his hand stood out as he held onto me. With his eyes still closed, he answered in a low voice, somewhere between sleep and sincerity.
“When have I ever been cruel?”
“Hmm… not cruel. Just a little cold, maybe?”
“I’m not cold to you.”
Well, if it was you being honest, I supposed that was true. A soft laugh escaped me.
He fumbled for my hand again, his voice turning almost plaintive.
“Just a little more… please. It feels like I can only breathe when you touch me.”
That, at least, was probably true. The energy our kind exuded flowed through our fingertips. To a human, it must feel like magic—like something tangled and suffocating being gently unraveled.
For me, too, this moment felt peaceful.
You lying on my lap, the pleasant scent of flowers, the light breeze…
“Zinnia.”
“Hmm?”
“I wish you were real.”
I said nothing.
Before him—so honest, so fragile, like a child baring his heart—I couldn’t tell a single truth. As I quietly smoothed back his hair, I managed only a few words.
“I have to go now.”
Without a word, he tightened his grip on my hand. It was desperate, as though he were trying to hold onto an illusion that would shatter if he let go.
Then, as if he could no longer bear it, he slowly sat up, closing the distance until he was right in front of me.
Heat rushed from him through the disheveled layers of his clothing. His gaze, unblinking, held nothing but me.
“Zinnia.”
He called my name in a low voice, reaching out. His slender fingers slipped into my hair, then traced down along my cheek, grazing the edge of my lips with deliberate slowness—as though he meant to carve the sensation into his very soul. The touch was so meticulous, so unguarded, it sent a shiver through me.
Dangerous. This is dangerous.
Each time his warm fingertips brushed against my cool skin, I could feel his pulse—uneven, rough, aching.
His breath against my neck made my heart tremble. He buried his forehead against my shoulder, drawing in a deep breath like a beast intoxicated by scent.
This proud crown prince—this unbearable hunger he showed only in front of me.
In the end, it was me who broke first, calling out to him.
“Sieboldi.”
“Don’t go.”
“I’ll come back. I promise.”
“…Then see me in reality.”
The sun dipped low, and in an instant, darkness devoured it whole.
I fled his dream.
He must never become aware of this dream.
He shouldn’t—but knowing that, and still acting without thinking of the consequences… that was my mistake.
For a month now, I have been slipping into the crown prince’s dreams.
1. Meeting in a Dream
ZobirdApril 17, 20263 min read
Rule: Character names are fixed as provided.
Chapter 1. Meeting in a Dream
This relationship must never slip beyond the bounds of a dream.
In this world of honesty, where anything was permitted, it was the one rule that could never be broken.
“You’re only sweet here. You’ll just turn cruel again later.”
I traced the bridge of his nose lightly with my fingertip, then brushed back his golden hair as I murmured the words.
A rosy fragrance drifted through the garden, weaving between flowerbeds heavy with buds on the verge of blooming.
At the heart of this secret garden, where golden pollen shimmered in the air, lay a paradise that could never exist in reality—and right in its center, he rested with his head on my lap.
The crown prince—so handsome it bordered on arrogance—let his long lashes fall in a languid close.
As if the air itself were sweet, he drew in a deep breath, pressing his face into my palm with quiet insistence. The gesture was almost like a pet seeking the warmth of its owner.
The tendons on the back of his hand stood out as he held onto me. With his eyes still closed, he answered in a low voice, somewhere between sleep and sincerity.
“When have I ever been cruel?”
“Hmm… not cruel. Just a little cold, maybe?”
“I’m not cold to you.”
Well, if it was you being honest, I supposed that was true. A soft laugh escaped me.
He fumbled for my hand again, his voice turning almost plaintive.
“Just a little more… please. It feels like I can only breathe when you touch me.”
That, at least, was probably true. The energy our kind exuded flowed through our fingertips. To a human, it must feel like magic—like something tangled and suffocating being gently unraveled.
For me, too, this moment felt peaceful.
You lying on my lap, the pleasant scent of flowers, the light breeze…
“Zinnia.”
“Hmm?”
“I wish you were real.”
I said nothing.
Before him—so honest, so fragile, like a child baring his heart—I couldn’t tell a single truth. As I quietly smoothed back his hair, I managed only a few words.
“I have to go now.”
Without a word, he tightened his grip on my hand. It was desperate, as though he were trying to hold onto an illusion that would shatter if he let go.
Then, as if he could no longer bear it, he slowly sat up, closing the distance until he was right in front of me.
Heat rushed from him through the disheveled layers of his clothing. His gaze, unblinking, held nothing but me.
“Zinnia.”
He called my name in a low voice, reaching out. His slender fingers slipped into my hair, then traced down along my cheek, grazing the edge of my lips with deliberate slowness—as though he meant to carve the sensation into his very soul. The touch was so meticulous, so unguarded, it sent a shiver through me.
Dangerous. This is dangerous.
Each time his warm fingertips brushed against my cool skin, I could feel his pulse—uneven, rough, aching.
His breath against my neck made my heart tremble. He buried his forehead against my shoulder, drawing in a deep breath like a beast intoxicated by scent.
This proud crown prince—this unbearable hunger he showed only in front of me.
In the end, it was me who broke first, calling out to him.
“Sieboldi.”
“Don’t go.”
“I’ll come back. I promise.”
“…Then see me in reality.”
The sun dipped low, and in an instant, darkness devoured it whole.
I fled his dream.
He must never become aware of this dream.
He shouldn’t—but knowing that, and still acting without thinking of the consequences… that was my mistake.
For a month now, I have been slipping into the crown prince’s dreams.