The Sorcerer's Handbook

Chapter 336: I Won't Fall for That!

At nine o'clock, Gospel time.

Quinna was occupied with official duties when she felt the mark on her hand heat up, right on schedule.

The Family Dream was a privately operated, self-financing dreamscape, and its activation consumed a staggering amount of resources. Consequently, it only opened for four hours a day, from 8:00 p.m. to midnight. Because the entire Sennheiser District would have ground to a halt otherwise, it was impossible for everyone to flood into the dream at once.

For off-duty personnel, there were no restrictions. Their marks activated precisely at eight. However, staff assigned to night shifts were required to enter in scheduled batches to ensure departmental continuity. This arrangement was mandatory. If it wasn't your allotted time slot, your mark simply remained dormant. As for the matter of distribution, it was, of course, orchestrated by the great Gospel.

While the common folk viewed the Gospel with distant reverence, Quinna's frequent use of the system gave her a chillingly clear understanding of its power. This insight was exactly what fueled her absolute faith in the Woven Festival's Art Ranking.

According to her investigations, strategic stockpiling had begun not only among the other families of Vanmura, but across the entire Gospel Kingdom. Every major power was preparing for an impending, unknown disaster. As one of the six great families of Vanmura, Senheiser was a titan to its people, but compared to the Gospel as a whole, it was a minor house. In the face of a catastrophe capable of toppling nations, they were nothing more than ants struggling to survive.

Quinna was deeply anxious. Fifty years was not a long time for her. She might very well witness the downfall of Senheiser with her own eyes. Yet on the surface, she could not show a trace of urgency. As the spiritual pillar of the family, she could not afford the slightest flaw, even if everyone else was consumed by fear.

That was precisely why she had chosen to shelter Annan and the others. Sending Annan and Ashe out would provide only a minor benefit to the family. In the grand scheme of things, such a contribution was insignificant. However, if they managed to obtain the Divine Wish, Quinna would gain the leverage of "timely assistance" to demand repayment. The contract was merely bait to keep Annan in check. Now that they were inside Senheiser and set to enter the Family Dream, Quinna was ready to reveal her true killing move.

Coercion and temptation were never the right paths for expansion. Only love and family could permanently bind others as kin.

However, Annan had likely seen through her intentions from the start. Quinna was dissatisfied with her daughter in every way, but in terms of scheming, the two were perfectly matched. Even if she saw the trap, Annan would still obediently step into it. What Quinna enjoyed most was watching her daughter's resentful, unwilling expression as she was forced to comply.

No one knew that Quinna had deliberately shaped Annan this way, raising her to be intelligent, cunning, and rebellious. As a genius sorcerer, family head, and a Sacred Realm Red Hat, Quinna had not met a suitable opponent in a long time. She had few friends, and those she did have never dared to oppose her. Given the long lifespan of an elf, she had gradually grown bored over the years.

So, she decided to create a rival, a playmate, and an enemy for herself. And who better than her own daughter? After inflicting a calculated amount of childhood trauma, she sent Annan off to inherit the Dolan business, waiting for the day the girl would return for revenge. Whether she came to seize the family or destroy Senheiser, Quinna looked forward to using her to fill the boredom of her waning centuries.

She might appear to covet the Dolan inheritance, but in truth, it was all the same to her. For Senheiser, those secrets were merely icing on the cake, incapable of truly elevating the family further. Seizing the Dolan legacy was simply another excuse for Quinna to continue her torment of Annan. However, the Woven Festival had recently foretold a coming catastrophe, and suddenly, that inheritance regained its vital importance. Perhaps, this was the reward she deserved for all those years spent bullying her daughter.

But... should Annan get married soon?

When Quinna first saw Lys, she naturally assumed the child belonged to Annan and Ashe. It was a logical leap. After all, Annan, seemingly under duress, had even painted Ashe's portrait for the Art Ranking. But the revelation that Ashe was merely his contracted subordinate changed everything. That dynamic alone was enough to fuel endless, twisted speculation of a love-hate romance. Nothing definitive had happened yet, but Quinna had complete faith in the Woven Festival. If the spark wasn't there now, it would be soon.

If I send someone else to lure Ashe away, would that further ignite Annan's competitive spirit? It would be best to use someone she already knows... Nona would be perfect...

With these thoughts, Quinna sank into the Family Dream.

She did not linger in the initial zone. Instead, she entered an orange bubble and transformed into an elf pastry chef as she descended into a confectionery factory. While many speculated about what the family head did in the dream world, imagining anything from battle royales to interrogation roles or even depraved orgies, no one would have guessed the truth. Quinna simply liked making pastries and chocolate.

In truth, she hadn't planned it. It was simply that Annan had once loved sweets, so Quinna had begun making desserts herself. Whenever Little Annan came begging for a bite, Quinna would set impossible conditions. When Annan inevitably failed and sat on the verge of tears, Quinna would slowly enjoy the sweets herself. That small, cruel joy had turned even the act of baking into entertainment.

The confectionery factory bubble was usually a quiet corner of the dream, frequented only by a few members with similar hobbies. So, when Quinna arrived that night, the presence of a new, unfamiliar face was impossible to miss.

She gave him only a cursory glance before turning to her task. Tonight's project was a Black Forest cake. She had made one for Annan once before, but Little Annan had failed her challenge. In a fit of frustration, Quinna had ended up smashing the entire cake into her face.

Plop!

Quinna paused. The newcomer had knocked over his whipped cream.

Ignore him. Just ignore him...

Bang! Clatter! Plop! Crash!

When the cream bowl hit the floor yet again, Quinna's patience finally snapped. She marched over, words already sharpened. "Do you even know how to—"

Her scolding died in her throat.

Before her sat a clumsy elf boy who had tumbled to the floor. He was delicate and refined, with a frame that looked soft enough to dissolve into milk. His fair skin was dusted with a faint, apple-red blush, and his thin lips were pursed in a look of quiet distress. Most striking of all were his large eyes. Their golden pupils were hypnotic.

His pointy elf ears twitched, a shy, foolish smile lingering on his face despite the mess. He wore a dark red gradient chef's uniform paired with black thigh-high stockings. The sliver of pale thigh visible above the silk was so stark a contrast that he seemed almost unreal. Cream was smeared everywhere, even on the tip of his nose, yet it didn't look like a mess. It looked like decorative icing on a masterwork dessert.

"Sorry... I'm not very good at making cakes," he murmured, looking down. His face flushed so deeply it seemed as though it might drip blood. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's fine."

Quinna's voice was gentler than it had ever been in her life. She helped him up, suppressing the sudden, primal urge to pull him into her arms. She asked, a hint of urgency in her tone, "What kind of cake are you trying to make?"

The boy replied, "Red velvet. My little sister likes it. I want to learn here in the dream so I can make it for her in reality."

"Then I'll teach you."

Without a second thought, Quinna took his hands and pulled him closer. "First, I'll show you how to whip the cream. By the way, what's your name?"

"I'm Axia..."

Quinna's heart stirred. Looking at his earnest expression, she couldn't resist reaching out to wipe the cream from the tip of his nose. Then, she put her finger to her lips and tasted it.

***

Upon arriving in the dream's initial zone, Annan felt a brief surge of disorientation.

It had been more than ten years since she last set foot in a dream. Back then, still a minor, she had been restricted to a preset, single-player playground. If the Family Reincarnation Dream was a vast ocean, she had only ever picked up seashells on its shore.

Pankey's words hadn't just been a warning to the employees. They were a reminder to her as their boss. Just because you have ridden a kindergarten bus does not mean you are ready to drive the university shuttle.

While the Purple Moth often argued with the butler, she wasn't truly a rebellious child who refused to listen to reason. Her rebellion was reserved solely for her mother. Accepting the advice, she decided to stay tucked away in her personal dream space, intending to spend the next few days playing quietly and staying out of trouble.

In any case, romance was for the employees. Annan neither needed nor qualified to compete for a ranking on that particular list. For someone born within the Gospel like her, her future was already woven. The Gospel would never acknowledge "unknown possibilities" within her destiny.

But... what should I play?

In the dream world, active thought was a redundant form of labor. By the time Annan came back to her senses, the dream had already reshaped itself into the children's playground she knew best.

When she was young, this had been her sanctuary. Her mother couldn't enter here. Within these borders, she could play, eat cake, draw, and curse freely, never having to worry about the look on Quinna's face. Annan looked down to find herself transformed into her six-year-old self, wearing a ruffled, purple princess dress.

In truth, she didn't even like purple. She only wore it because it was the color Quinna hated most. Anything her mother disliked, she championed. Before leaving Senheiser, the dream was the only place she could wear it without consequence.

This was her world, a place where she couldn't hide her deepest desires. Fortunately, no one would ever know what happened here. If anyone saw how childish she truly was, she wouldn't know how to salvage her dignity.

Since there's no one else around...

Her eyes brightened. She lay down and rolled like a barrel across the playground before burying herself in the sandpit. She rode the carousel, pumped the swings, and zipped down the slide.

So boring.

She felt the tug of nostalgia, but the magic faded quickly. She was no longer at the age where every grain of sand held a secret. She was a bored adult, and playing in the dirt had lost its charm. More importantly, playing alone was lonely.

When she was a child, she had her teddy bear friend, her fox friend, and her cat friend to talk to. Now, she realized, they were just dolls.

If only I could find someone...

The moment the thought surfaced, the metallic shriek of the nearby slide cut through the air. Someone had entered her dream.

"Beautiful little princess, may I play with you?"

Annan spun around. Standing there was a delicate young boy, only slightly older than her current form. He had raven-black hair that brushed past his ears, nearly reaching his shoulders. His thin lips curved into a faint, inviting smile, and his azure eyes were full of warmth. Dressed in a white-and-gold formal outfit with a shimmering golden shoulder cape and spotless white boots, he looked like a prince stepped straight from a fairy tale.

He naturally reached out and took Annan's hand. "Princess, what's your name?"

Inside her mind, Annan's rationality screamed. The Family Dream is dangerous... make him leave... you'll get trapped... You don't even have a mission... make him leave!

"Little An," she whispered instead, ducking her head as a faint blush crept up her cheeks. "What about you?"

Her rationality collapsed completely.

The boy smiled. "Just call me Hugh. We're going to be good friends."

Something stirred deep in Annan's heart. She allowed herself to be pulled along as he led her toward the seesaw, her entire being filling with a pure, innocent joy.

***

Another botched mechanic, another wipe, and yet another unceremonious kick from the raid group.

Ashe stepped out of the game pod and sat in silence, lost in thought. After a moment, he summoned the Book of Gospel.

"Gospel, is there something like... an instant reminder for upcoming mechanics? Something that would let a disabled player like me clear raids more easily? I'm not trying to be lazy, but memorizing patterns feels like mindless labor. If it can be automated, it should be. My time is very valuable. You understand that, right?"

The Book of Gospel responded.

[O Flirtatious Excellency, there is no need for explanations. For a mere 10 Gospel Points, the Gospel will immediately install the latest epic-tier raid wheelchair for you.]

Ashe's brow furrowed. "Why did my title gain an extra adjective?"

[Wanton Excellency, this is simply a random nickname system. Please pay it no mind. However, if it bothers you, you may spend 50 points to—]

"No, I don't mind."

Ashe saw right through it. It was the same tactic used by temple fortune-tellers who claimed your "aura is dark" or a "calamity is imminent," just to trick you into opening your wallet. It was a blatant scam designed to trigger impulse spending.

No wonder the service has been so enthusiastic. I'm not about to fall for such a cheap trick!