Chapter 803: Patty’s Friend

Once the conversation was opened up, many things could finally be laid out on the table.

Gawain was confident that now, with him—the “Otherworldly Wanderer”—making a public appearance in the psychic network, Selina Gerfen must have already steeled herself for the exposure.

After all, from what he could tell, the psychic network was almost completely transparent to someone like him.

“So, what exactly is your relationship with Patty?” Gawain asked.

Selina’s face showed little surprise at the question. After a brief pause, she spoke with a hint of relief, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest. “You finally asked about this…”

Before Gawain could respond, she took the initiative. “Do you care about Patty?”

Gawain chuckled. “What, is it strange for an ‘Otherworldly Wanderer’ to care about a human girl? Must I fit the stereotype you all imagine—an ineffable being devoid of mortal feelings and morals—to be a proper ‘Otherworldly Wanderer’?”

Selina blinked, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Preconceptions are hard to break, I hope you understand.

“As for Patty… rest assured, I’m only ‘with’ her. I have never harmed her, nor do I intend to.”

Gawain’s gaze remained fixed on her. “Why Patty, of all people?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “As a disembodied spirit, my soul is constantly fracturing. I need a real-world mind to serve as a ‘mental calibration point’—to continuously recalibrate myself and repair my soul, preventing it from slipping into madness and becoming a mindless wraith.

“Such a calibration point isn’t easy to find. It requires innate soul compatibility and the right external conditions.”

Gawain frowned. “So you found Patty because she happened to ‘match’ with you?”

Selina shook her head after a moment’s silence. “No. Patty wasn’t our original choice. Though she was one of the eligible candidates, we initially sought the daughter of another wealthy merchant in the southern region.”

“Then why end up with Patty?” Gawain asked, puzzled. “By all accounts, she wasn’t the best physical candidate at the time… Did something happen to your original target?”

Selina’s voice was soft beneath the night’s glow. “Because she wanted to live.”

Gawain looked at her in surprise.

“When I wandered through those chaotic, dim dreams in the south, Patty’s mind was like a firefly in the darkness, drawing me in. A soul on the brink of extinction, yet radiating a will to survive that even surprised me. When I tried to communicate with that fragile mind, the first word she said was ‘hello’—still polite, despite everything she’d been through.

“You’re right, she wasn’t an ideal choice. She was near death. Perhaps soon after choosing her, I would have to find another calibration point. But there’s a saying—‘Those who save themselves deserve help.’

“It’s one of the Dreaming Order’s tenets, and a psychological aid principle passed down since the days of Gondor,” Gawain nodded. “I just didn’t expect you to still abide by it.”

“Seven hundred years have passed, and I’ve broken it countless times,” Selina said with a self-deprecating smile. “But sometimes I think about honoring it, just to savor the past.”

“So Patty is your ‘sometimes,’” Gawain said thoughtfully. Suddenly, he recalled some details Amber had reported about the investigation in the Gran領 region. He rubbed his chin, a knowing look crossing his face. “Those who cared for Patty said she ‘miraculously’ survived the most dangerous phase. Her survival was considered impossible by pharmacists and other experts. You had a hand in that, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t do much,” Selina smiled faintly. “I just took over when she was in the most pain.

“That crown she wore didn’t block pain or sensation. Aside from serving as a medium for ordinary people to enter the dream world, its only function was to swap me and her when she wanted to sleep—something even she didn’t know.

“Of course, she no longer uses the crown, nor does she need it. I know you gave her a magical device to help her sleep, and for Patty now, that’s enough.”

Gawain’s surprise was clear, as was his curiosity. “So when Patty sleeps, it’s actually you controlling her body… Then who stays with Patty in the psychic network?”

“Also me, just another fragment of myself. But sometimes it’s Wendy, Rachel, or Arelia.”

“You’ve done more for Patty than I expected.”

“For me, it’s nothing. I’ve experienced death once—that was far more painful than what Patty went through,” Selina shook her head. “Besides, I’m using Patty to calibrate my mind, treating her as a kind of vessel. It’s a fair trade.”

Her voice trailed off, leaving much unsaid.

She knew well that what she did for Patty was perhaps just self-soothing, not noble or even truly conscientious—just a way to ease her own conscience when facing those brainwashed thralls.

Gawain quietly met her gaze. In a tacit understanding, neither pressed the matter further.

“Patty no longer uses your crown and can’t access the psychic network,” Gawain broke the silence. “But clearly, you still have the ability to roam the psychic realm without a medium. Will you still meet with Patty?”

“The psychic network is unsafe now. It’s better for Patty to stay away,” Selina said. “As for me… though I’m still with her, I don’t intend to appear anymore. Let her think of me as a childhood dream—like every child’s ‘Green Sprite Friend.’”

The “Green Sprite Friend” was a long-standing belief in many northern regions of the continent. People believed that the giant tree’s large seeds, which fell in spring, housed spirits that soothed frightened children and helped them sleep. Young parents would collect these seeds, carve them into wooden dolls as companions for their kids. From this tradition, many stories about “Green Sprite Friends” emerged, with a popular saying that every child had one during their youth.

Scientific evidence supporting these legends came when the Empire’s First Druid Research Center successfully isolated harmless calming compounds from the giant tree seeds.

Gawain’s mind wandered briefly, and he shook his head with a smile. “Patty’s long past the age to believe in ‘Green Sprite Friends.’ You’re fading from her sight because you don’t want to disturb her future life?”

“She’s healing and will live a more normal life. A normal life doesn’t need a ghost from a dark cult lurking by her side.”

“I won’t interfere with your decision, but I must remind you—you don’t have the right to decide what a ‘normal life’ is for Patty,” Gawain said slowly. “Cecile is a more open and inclusive society. Even a plant can become a legal citizen of the Empire. You should learn to adapt to all this.”

“I will remember your advice and consider it seriously.”

“I hope so,” Gawain said, then glanced at Selina, who was preparing to leave. “By the way, before you go, I have something for you—something that might help those tainted by the High Narrators.”

Selina’s interest piqued immediately. “What is it?”

“Some runes,” Gawain smiled, tracing a few symbols in the air. “A gift from the deep sea…”

…

Minutes later.

The invisible psychic link faded away. Holding a lantern, Selina Gerfen vanished silently like a waking dream.

Gawain didn’t look back. As always, he gazed out over the city bathed in the mingling glow of lanterns and starlight, and beyond, the dark mountains barely visible in the night.

Everything seemed calm on the surface, but beneath this known tranquility, unknown crises and turmoil surged relentlessly.

Before now, Rosetta Augustus could never have been unaware of a Sleeper Cult hidden within his empire. It was just that his focus had long been elsewhere, not on this dark sect.

But that was the past. If he learned that the cult now harbored traces of an Otherworldly Wanderer, if he knew a neighboring ruler had already reached into his empire’s heart…

Gawain found himself looking forward to the reaction of Emperor Rosetta Augustus.

It was foreseeable that after the Sandbox Incident No. 1, Typhon would face upheaval—massive purges of cultists and internal investigations were inevitable.

Even if the Sleepers were prepared, their influence in Typhon would suffer severe blows, forcing them to retreat secretly toward Cecile.

As for Gawain himself, he didn’t care much about the intelligence leak regarding the Otherworldly Wanderer and the Sleeper Cult to Rosetta. First, he and the cult had already prepared—the core personnel and data transfers would begin soon. Second…

Cecile’s infiltration of Typhon had never focused on cult forces—culture, technology, economy, these overt elements were the real priorities.

In diplomatic exchanges, Rosetta must have anticipated Cecile’s infiltration attempts, perhaps even seeing them as normal “steps” in the two empires’ “exchange.” If so, Gawain was happy to provide something to draw Rosetta’s attention, to keep him busy dealing with the Sleeper cultists within his borders, so he wouldn’t meddle with the Shadow Theater, the Cecile merchants, or the “civilian tech companies.”

Throughout this, the only real concern was keeping Daniel hidden and safe—he was the only key figure straddling both the “open” and “covert” lines, a senior tech spy planted in Typhon and an important node in the Sleeper Cult.

So, for the foreseeable future, Gawain would keep Daniel away from cult affairs to avoid exposure.

After all, Gawain himself, as the “Otherworldly Wanderer,” had openly attended the cult’s bishop meetings. Some things he could handle personally, without Daniel as a frequent intermediary.

…

At midnight, brilliant starlight shone over Aldernan’s sky, but a persistent haze dulled the cold cosmic glow. Under layers of thick fog, the young imperial capital—named the “Millennium City”—slept in darkness. Black spires, towering walls, and solemn towers stood densely packed in the mist, reflecting the empire’s orderly, hierarchical structure.

In this fog-shrouded capital, only the Obsidian Palace and a few tall towers pierced the mist, bathing in the clear starlight.

Rosetta Augustus awoke abruptly from his dream, noticing how the cold light filtering through the window had taken on the warm hues of dusk.

Shaking off the lingering haze of sleep, he quickly regained full clarity.

Throwing on a coat without much thought, the middle-aged emperor approached the window with a detached, indifferent expression, gazing down below.

The twilight glow bathed everything outside, but the familiar sights of Aldern were gone.

Instead, streets and buildings of another city basked in the fading sun, a pale golden light stretching from the distant horizon all the way to the palace walls, engulfing everything within this cursed dream.

It seemed to be happening more and more often…

Rosetta Augustus furrowed his brow slightly, though his impassive expression remained unchanged. He stepped back from the window, then turned and headed toward the door, pushing it open and leaving the room.

According to whispers within his family, choosing to isolate oneself in a safe room during this cursed dream was the first step toward utter failure—being consumed by madness.

Rosetta didn’t know if that was true or not. All he knew was that since the first time he fell into this dream, his only response had been—

To face it head-on.

(End of chapter)