Chapter 58: Sister Qiong's Nightmare

Meanwhile, in another part of the hotel.

The guest rooms at the Goethe Hotel were surprisingly spacious.

Though the furniture was old, bearing the marks of time with its faded varnish and worn edges, it was immaculately clean.

The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and old wood.

A heavy door swung shut with a muted click, severing the last tendrils of sound from the hallway and sealing the three of them in a pocket of quiet privacy.

The very instant the lock settled into place, March 7th’s posture, which had been ramrod straight with tension, completely deflated.

A long, theatrical sigh gusted from his lips as he spun around, his face alight with an irrepressible, almost manic excitement and a healthy dose of smugness.

“Phew—!

Finally, I can breathe!” he declared, patting his chest dramatically.

He then tilted his chin up, his expression practically screaming for praise.

“So?

How was I?

My reaction back in the tavern, that shocked expression!”

He struck a pose, one hand flying to his mouth in mock horror.

“Bronya!

You scared us half to death!” he mimicked, perfectly recreating his own earlier tone of anxious reproach.

The impression was, to Chen’s private astonishment, alarmingly accurate.

Clearly, March 7th was exceedingly pleased with his impromptu performance.

Hearing this, Chen couldn’t stop the eye-roll that took over his features.

The gesture, performed with the frosty, elegant face of Bronya, looked distinctly out of place, like a glitch in reality.

“Like her?

Like what?” he complained, his voice laced with exasperation.

“If Teacher Dan Heng hadn’t shot you a look, you would have been shouting Qiong’s name at the top of your lungs in the next second!

And you call that ‘amazing’?

You nearly blew our cover on the spot, and then you had the nerve to make me the centerpiece of that ridiculous lie!”

“Eh—!” March 7th sputtered, the words catching in his throat.

A faint blush crept up his neck as he argued back, his voice dropping to a defensive mutter.

“That… that was just because it was all so sudden!”

“March, you need to remain calmer when things like this happen,” Dan Heng added, his tone that of a patient teacher.

He paused, then his expression softened slightly.

“However… the Stellaron… Svarog… It seems we’ve finally found the right path forward.”

“Yeah, yeah!” March 7th’s attention was immediately captured.

His good mood returned in a flash, though this time he had the presence of mind to lower his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Svarog!

I can’t believe we got a lead so fast!

Tomorrow, we can…”

“We’ll deal with tomorrow’s business tomorrow,” Dan Heng interrupted him smoothly.

“Now that we have a clear objective, our priority is to rest and recover.

The path to the Mechanical Settlement is an unknown, and we have no idea what Svarog’s disposition will be.

We must be in peak condition.”

His gaze shifted to Chen.

“Especially you, Lord Bronya.

Dealing with so many different factions today must have been mentally taxing.

Qiong also needs a thorough rest.”

The lively, exasperated expression on Chen’s face receded, replaced by Bronya’s signature seriousness.

He gave a crisp nod.

“I understand.”

Dan Heng said no more.

He guided Qiong towards her adjacent room, then paused to clap a hand on March 7th’s shoulder, a clear signal for him to follow.

Though still buzzing with excitement, March 7th understood the importance of the situation.

He mouthed a silent “goodnight” to Chen before trailing after Dan Heng, quietly pulling the door shut behind them.

Finally, the room was utterly silent, leaving Chen alone with his thoughts.

An unknown amount of time passed.

Chen sat on the edge of the bed, idly debating whether he should risk a solo scouting mission tonight, when the door to his room was pushed open with a gentle, hesitant creak.

Qiong stood quietly in the doorframe, having already changed into the simple grey cotton pajamas provided by the hotel.

Her long, silvery-grey hair was unbound, draping softly over her shoulders, and she clutched her own pillow to her chest like a shield.

She looked at him, her expression deeply unsettled.

“Qiong?

You’re not asleep yet?” Chen asked, a little surprised.

She padded into the room, closing the door behind her before walking over to him.

She didn’t answer right away, remaining silent for a few seconds before finally looking up, her voice laced with distress.

“Earlier… when Sampo’s smoke bomb knocked me out,” she began slowly, as if struggling to assemble the words.

“I think… I had a dream.

A very noisy dream.”

Chen’s mind snapped to attention.

He finally remembered: in the original game, the Stellaron’s first whisper came to the protagonist in a dream while they were unconscious.

“A dream?” he prompted, his voice instantly softening into an encouraging murmur.

“Do you remember what it was about?”

Qiong’s brow furrowed.

“There were so many voices… so many people talking, but it also felt like it was just one person saying a lot of things… I couldn’t hear any of it clearly.

But… it felt so cold.

And heavy.

Like I was falling… and there was a light below me, but it was blinding and it hurt to look at.”

She described the experience in fragmented pieces, the memory clearly disturbing her.

‘That’s it,’Chen thought, his certainty solidifying.’It’s definitely the Stellaron.’

Had the Stellaron of Jarilo-VI sensed the arrival of another of its kind and begun trying to communicate, or perhaps corrupt her?

Or was the Stellaron within Qiong herself simply beginning to awaken?

Looking at the lingering, formless unease on Qiong’s face, Chen knew that any explanation about Stellaron or cosmic dangers would be worse than useless right now.

It might even be counterproductive.

What Qiong needed wasn’t the truth.

She needed a warmth that could chase away the lingering chill of a nightmare.

“I see… you had a nightmare,” Chen’s voice became impossibly gentle.

He stepped forward, naturally reaching out a hand to comfort her.

But his fingertips paused, hovering just inches from her hair.

Comforting her as Bronya… it still felt like there was a barrier between them.

What she needed right now wasn’t the stoic Young Master of Belobog.

She needed the face that was most familiar, most reassuring.

A thought flickered through his mind.

With barely a shimmer of light, the figure of the silver-haired girl standing before Qiong transformed.

The iconic triple-spiraled pigtails of Bronya’s hairstyle melted away, reforming into a cleaner, sharper cut of long grey hair.

The formal Silvermane Guard uniform dissolved, replaced by a familiar dark coat over a simple white shirt.

His height even adjusted by a few subtle inches.

He was now in the form of “Stelle.”

“See?” Chen, now as Stelle, gave Qiong a playful wink.

A genuine smile bloomed on his face, one that held a deeper, more heartfelt indulgence than Bronya’s ever could.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside him, his smile widening.

“So,” he said, his tone dropping into the playful cadence one might use to coax a child.

“My cute little Precious Qiong got scared by a bad dream.

Did you come to Sister Stelle for comfort and a hug?”

Qiong stared at the cloudless, easy smile on Chen’s face.

Her gaze flickered down to the hand patting the mattress, and without a moment’s hesitation, she nodded vigorously.

“Mm!”

She scrambled onto the bed, still clutching her pillow, and like a fledgling bird returning to the safety of its nest, she burrowed directly into Chen’s open embrace.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

It was the familiar scent, a unique warmth that seemed to emanate from the very depths of Chen’s soul.

The lingering, phantom sensations from her dream seemed to truly melt away, dispelled by the heat of this familiar body.

Chen adjusted his posture, allowing Qiong to lean more comfortably against him.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and, with his other hand, began to gently stroke her smooth grey hair as if he were soothing a small animal.

He didn’t hum a lullaby, but simply used Stelle’s gentle voice to whisper soft reassurances.

“It’s okay, it’s okay… dreams are all fake… I’m right here… Don’t be afraid, Qiong is the bravest…”

Slowly, the tension seeped out of Qiong’s body.

Her breathing, once shallow and ragged, deepened into a long, even rhythm.

The nightmarish whispers that had troubled her consciousness seemed to lose their power in the face of such a tangible, warm embrace.

Only after he was certain the girl in his arms had fallen into a deep sleep did Chen slowly cease his gentle stroking.

He carefully shifted his weight, trying to find a position that would let her sleep more soundly.

He remained in Stelle’s form, feeling that the familiar presence would grant her a more peaceful rest.

Suddenly, Qiong’s breath hitched.

Her brows furrowed in her sleep, and her body tensed unconsciously, as if she were pushing against some invisible weight.

Chen noticed the change instantly.

‘Again?

The Stellaron’s whispers?’

His heart sank.

It seemed that simple, external comfort couldn’t completely block the erosion coming from the depths of her consciousness.

The Stellaron inside Qiong—or the one buried beneath Belobog—was trying more aggressively to establish a connection.

His hand, which had been patting her back, stilled.

Seeing the pained expression that marred her face even in sleep, Chen knew that ordinary comfort was no longer enough.

He had to do something more, something to pull Qiong out of that cold, phantom dreamscape.

An almost ludicrously crazy thought flashed through his mind.

‘Wait a minute… I’m Stelle right now!

In the game’s lore, Stelle is also a Stellaron Host!

If Qiong can be pulled into a dream or a consciousness space created by Stellaron resonance… then maybe, just maybe, as Stelle, I can actively break into it!’

There was no time to hesitate.

Chen gently laid Qiong down, making sure her head was resting on her pillow.

He then rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, to will himself to sleep, to feel for that resonance… but his nerves were shot.

He was wide awake, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

In his desperation, his gaze swept the room and landed on a familiar object in the corner: the metal baseball bat Qiong had brought up from the Underworld.

A far simpler, far more direct, and frankly, far stupider idea was born.

“Sorry, my head…” Chen whispered, his eyes hardening with grim determination.

He picked up the baseball bat, feeling its solid weight in his hand.

Without any further preparation, he closed his eyes and, with decisive force, swung the bat squarely against the side of his own temple.

THUD!

The dull, meaty impact was shockingly loud in the silent room.

An explosion of intense pain and vertigo instantly overwhelmed him.

His vision dissolved into a field of black static as the entire world spun violently.

A low groan escaped his lips as he slumped bonelessly onto the floor beside the bed, his consciousness plummeting rapidly into a welcome, self-inflicted darkness.

[Elysian’s Note:

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