From that point on, Eleanor became entirely focused on harvesting coins, perfecting her ability to enter the dreams of children and extract their emotions with calculated precision. Night after night, she danced through the dreamscapes of slumbering minds, plucking away emotions like a meticulous gardener tending to a delicate, unseen orchard. Fear, joy, sadness—each emotion had its own distinct weight and value, and she soon became adept at knowing which to harvest and which to leave untouched.
Meanwhile, Calisus remained within the dream domain, training relentlessly. Though he lacked access to the magic of his own world, he refused to let his body or mind stagnate. He experimented with the strange new energy permeating the domain, testing his limits, honing his instincts, and devising new ways to fight. The dream world offered no easy answers, only mysteries and challenges. But every evening, without fail, Eleanor returned to check on him. She supplied him with food, fresh clothes, and weapons, ensuring he had everything he needed to continue his training. Though they bickered playfully at times, their arrangement was undeniably beneficial—Eleanor had a companion in her otherwise lonely world, and Calisus had a safe haven while he figured out his next steps.
In the real world, Eleanor's life followed a different kind of rigorous structure. She excelled in her studies, her intelligence and sharp wit making her a formidable presence even among her peers. Whether in the Muggle or wizarding world, she adapted with ease, weaving seamlessly between both realms. Her grandfather, Jeremy, observed her progress with a silent pride, never one to offer open praise, but always watching, always ensuring that she sharpened her mind as well as her abilities.
Her parents, Helena and Jonathan, resided in the Vale estate within the wizarding world but frequently visited the Donovan manor, maintaining the illusion of a close-knit family. It was a calculated maneuver, designed to divert the Ministry of Magic's attention. If they were going to scrutinize anyone, let them focus on Helena and Jonathan rather than pry into the Donovan family's dealings in the Muggle world.
Jonathan, ever the strategist, had also taken additional precautions. He had employed a witch named Debbie as Eleanor's nanny—a woman bound by a blood oath to the Donovan-Vale family. Debbie's role was more than that of a caretaker; she was a guardian, a shield against potential exposure. Should the Ministry of Magic ever detect signs of Eleanor's magical abilities, Debbie would step in without hesitation, covering up any incidents before they could become a problem.
And so, the years passed.
Six years of carefully constructed deception. Six years of silent maneuvering.
And Eleanor, no longer the small child who had once clung to her grandfather's every word, stood poised between two worlds—one of magic, secrets, and power, and the other, a place where dreams and shadows whispered possibilities yet untapped.
---
Eleanor stepped into her dream domain, her presence shifting like a ripple across the surreal terrain. Her figure transformed mid-step—her usual form fading away and giving way to Selena, her dream avatar. She stood tall with a graceful, commanding air, her hourglass figure draped in silky dream-threaded garments. Her deep-blue hair cascaded down like a waterfall under moonlight, her long veil fluttering just enough to reveal a soft gleam of sharp intelligence in her gaze. Pointed ears peeked out from under her hair, hinting at something ancient and mystical in her dream-forged form.
As she wandered through the dream-bathed hills and low-hanging clouds of her domain, she caught sight of Calisus. He stood at a training ground she'd conjured into existence—a clearing beneath the giant silver-barked trees. His body was poised, sword drawn, and a rich purple aura danced around him like wild fireflies obeying his will.
Noticing her, Calisus instantly beamed and lowered his sword. The aura clung to him for a second longer before dispersing into the air like mist.
"Ah, Selena! You came," he said, his voice warm, the pride in it barely contained. "Did you see that? I managed to partially control the energy of this world!"
Selena tilted her head slightly, smiling beneath her veil. "Yes, I noticed. Quite impressive. Although… for me, it's a bit different. I don't exactly sense this energy you're talking about. Instead, I have access to skills and items. It's like the skill has already paved a neat path for me, channeling the energy without needing to understand it. But you—since you're not from this world—you don't have that shortcut."
Calisus nodded, thoughtful. "Right. It's thanks to my bloodline ability—the one I inherited from the core—that I even noticed it. If I didn't have that, this place would've remained completely unknowable to me."
Selena stepped closer, studying him. The aura had left a faint glow on his skin, not unlike a soft shimmer beneath the surface. She tapped her chin. "Hmm. Now that you've begun controlling the dream energy, I think you're finally ready to use higher-tier items—ones above C-grade. Everything beyond that relies on dream energy to function."
"I thought the same," Calisus said, then added with a sheepish grin, "But… those items are expensive. You'd have to buy them. I can't keep accepting things from you, Selena. I'm already indebted to you enough as it is."
Selena sighed with exaggerated theatrics and flicked his forehead—gently, but with just enough force to prove her point. "Oh, hush now. I have plenty of coins. And I'm giving them to you willingly. So do me a favor and shut up and take it," she added playfully, smirking behind her veil.
He blinked, speechless for a moment. "You're really not going to let me have the moral high ground here, are you?"
"Never," she said with mock sternness, folding her arms.
In truth, Selena—Eleanor—had grown quite efficient at harvesting coins. After her last major domain upgrade, she had hoarded vast amounts, only spending the bare minimum required to keep things operational. It was a habit deeply rooted in her—an echo of her past life. Having grown up in a poor family, where every coin was measured and double-checked, she'd carried those values with her even into this life.
Despite her newfound wealth in the dream world, her instincts were conflicted. One day she'd be miserly, calculating every cost with the seriousness of a banker. The next, she'd go on a wild spree, purchasing strange, shiny weapons or hilariously impractical mounts—like the time she bought a jellyfish-themed floating chaise lounge just because it looked "aesthetic."
But when it came to Calisus, she never hesitated.
She told herself it was because he needed to be strong—for survival. That he was useful. An ally. Someone who could help her understand this world's deeper structure. But perhaps, hidden under all that rationale, was the quiet truth: she didn't mind having him around.
"You know," Calisus said after a moment, brushing his hair back as he sat on a nearby bench made of glowing crystal vines, "you're not so cold-hearted after all."
Selena rolled her eyes. "Don't ruin the moment."
They both chuckled, the dream domain quiet around them, but filled with the faint sound of wind chimes made from memories.
In this world built from dreams, something very real was beginning to take root.
[Status Window]
> Name: Eleanor Donovan Vale
Level: 5 → Level: 9 [Next Upgrade: 2750 coins]
Job: Dream Walker
Coins: 109,750 → 101,150
Dream Stigma: Unawakened
---
Innate Abilities:
Form Change – Within a target's dream, the Dream Walker can assume the appearance of anyone the target trusts—or manifest as anything they imagine.
Dream Sense – With sufficient knowledge of a target, the Dream Walker may locate and enter their dream.
Meta-Pull – You may forcibly pull a target into your Dream Domain. Caution: Only recommended when confident the subject will not destabilize your domain.
Scenery Change – You may freely alter the environment of your Dream Domain. The illusion is expansive but still restricted by your level.
Impermeable Mind – Your mind is shielded from psychic interference, illusions, and memory tampering.
Barrier Control – Grants command over the defensive threshold of your Dream Domain, allowing isolation or invitation at will.
Partial Control – In another's dream, you may gain partial influence over its structure and flow.
Link – If both parties are willing, you may tether a dream resident to your Dream Domain, allowing them to become an anchored Follower.
(Additional innate abilities unlock with the awakening of your Dream Stigma.)
---
Skills:
Luck Dust (S) (Passive).
Nimble Paws (B+) (Upgradable) – Enhances dexterity, precision, and agility in subtle dream-based motions.
Piercing Nails (B+) (Upgradable) – Conjures ethereal claws that shred through dream matter or defenses.
Stable Vision (A) (Upgradable) – Grants perfect clarity, even in illusions or unstable dreamscapes.
Medium Healing (B) (Upgradable) – Channels curative dream essence to heal physical or spiritual wounds.
Minor Illusion (A) (MAX) – Creates believable illusions.
Misty Mouth (B) (MAX) – thick myst that covers ten meter radius.
Notice Me Senpai (C-) (Passive) – Causes dream residents or visitors to subconsciously acknowledge your presence as significant.
bubble of protection (B)(Upgradable)— Creates a defensive bubble, affective against B-tier attacks or below .
flash (B-)(Upgradable)– teleport to a position 4 meters away from your current position. miscalculation could lead to losing parts of the body .
minor hypnosis (c+)(max)– could implement subliminal ideas into the target .
---
After purchasing her latest upgrade, Selena stood still at the heart of her Dream Domain, her dream-avatar bathed in the pale light of the crescent sky above. A surge of energy flooded her veins—not violent, not explosive, but deep and rising, like a tide gently lifting a ship from harbor. Her soul responded to the change, almost singing beneath her skin.
The domain around her transformed.
The modest lake expanded, rippling with silver light that shimmered as though it reflected stars that didn't exist. The oak tree by the shore, once broad and old, had now ascended into something mythic—its trunk wider than three men could encircle, its white leaves dancing in a breeze that felt like the breath of forgotten gods.
The small, comfortable cottage near the hill shifted next. Its stones reshaped, stacked upward and outward, archways blossomed, the roof stretched higher, wooden beams gleaming with polished enchantment. A small mansion now stood where a home had once been—a blend of gothic spires and fairy tale warmth. Balconies peeked from every floor, and lanterns of dreamfire hung from hooks that hadn't been there moments before.
Calisus, standing on the sparring terrace nearby, turned mid-swing, his blade halting in the air as he blinked at the sudden grandeur.
"Wow," he said, his voice echoing faintly across the marble floor of the mansion's new porch. "We have a mansion now!"
The word slipped out so naturally—we—that Selena didn't notice the warmth that crept across her expression as she smiled, just slightly, to herself.
She summoned her status window with a flick of her mind. The faint interface shimmered in the air before her eyes.
> Level 9
Coins Remaining: 101,150
Dream Stigma: Unawakened
A new addition caught her eye: Partial Control and Link. Interesting. Her powers were evolving beyond entry and illusion. She was beginning to shape the dreams of others—bend their fabric—and perhaps, in time, even bind beings to her will.
She felt ready.
Calisus noticed her expression, and his curiosity spiked. "You know," he began, casually resting the sword over his shoulder as he watched her gaze at invisible menus, "you said that upgrading the domain takes coins."
She hummed in response, still focused.
"And you also said you've never really hunted other dreams before…" His brow furrowed, his tone playfully accusatory now. "So how do you have so many coins?"
Selena blinked, returning to herself. Her gaze turned to him, eyes twinkling with mischief beneath her veil.
"Hmm," she said slyly, "trade secret. Let's just say I have a way to cheat the system."
Calisus raised an eyebrow, skeptical but amused. "Do I even want to know?"
Her grin widened. "Wanna find out?"
He groaned with a dramatic sigh, flopping backward onto the crystal bench beneath the giant oak's shade. "Nah. Never mind. As long as your method is safe and doesn't, I don't know, break the world or anything… that's all that matters."
Selena chuckled, stepping beside him and crossing her arms. "Don't worry. I don't play games I can't win."
The leaves rustled above them, catching the last glimmer of dreamlight.
In this shared sliver of existence—a piece of Eleanor's fractured consciousness—two unlikely souls sat beneath a white-leafed tree. A fallen hero from another world. A cunning girl who bent dreams to her will. Both walking separate roads toward power. And yet, in the stillness of the domain, their paths had found a common resting point.
For now.
------
The next morning, Eleanor awoke in her eleven-year-old body.
Her green eyes blinked open slowly beneath the silk canopy of her bed, sunlight filtering through the ornate curtains of her room in the Donovan Manor. She sat up in silence, pale gold hair catching the light like strands of fire-kissed thread. Everything was as she had left it—tidy, neat, precise.
She slid out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor with no hesitation, and made her way down to the dining room.
Debbie, the witch bound to protect her, was already setting the table. As she caught sight of Eleanor entering, the corners of her lips twitched into something resembling a smile. But internally—internally, her stomach twisted.
'Ah… the monster's awake,' Debbie thought, trying not to let it show on her face.
Her fingers tightened on the silverware. A drop of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. Why is the air colder when she walks in? Why does that child never blink too long, never smile too wide?
She hadn't always felt this way. No. Once, she had scoffed at the idea.
---
"Previously"
Debbie—Deborah Melling, a witch of moderate talent—had found herself in a rather difficult position. In the wizarding world, magic could grant you power, but only if you were great. And Debbie… was not.
She was competent. She could cast a decent ward, clean a curse or two, fly a broom in a straight line—but in a world ruled by magical genius and ancestral legacy, mediocrity was a death sentence.
Worse, she owed money.
Having fallen into deep debt with the Vale family—a family cloaked in nobility but whispered about in every back alley and pub—Debbie was running out of options. You didn't just owe the Vales. You belonged to them until they said otherwise.
She'd considered fleeing, but there was no point. The Vale's roots reached deep—too deep. Even the Ministry turned a blind eye to their darker dealings.
Then came the offer: her debts would vanish. She would be protected, safe, even paid. All she had to do was babysit the Donovan-Vale family's daughter.
A Squib, they said.
Debbie scoffed. "I've faced worse," she told herself. "A mafia boss's powerless daughter? A glorified porcelain doll? Easy."
When she first saw Eleanor, she was reassured. A quiet little thing. Polite. Obedient. Beautiful, in that way all noble children were. Golden hair brushed to shine. Eyes so green they looked unreal. She sat properly, spoke softly, never threw tantrums.
Utterly harmless.
Debbie's superiority bloomed. She wasn't cruel, exactly—but dismissive. She'd do her duty. Nothing more.
---
Until That Day.
It had been a quiet afternoon. The manor basked in sunlight, and Debbie lounged in the parlor, reading one of her books, her feet up, wand resting beside her.
"Nanny, could you bring me a cup of milk?" came a small, melodic voice.
She didn't even look up. "Yes, yes, just wait," she muttered.
Seconds passed. Then—
"Nanny. A cup of milk."
The voice was closer now. Much closer.
Debbie's eyes snapped up, and a chill gripped her spine.
No one was there.
Her heartbeat quickened as she reached for her wand.
Nothing. Just silence.
Trying to shake it off, she stood and went to fetch the milk.
She walked into the kitchen, filled the cup with shaky fingers, and returned. As she placed it down on the polished table and turned to leave—
She froze.
A sensation. Like a whisper brushing her throat.
A cold, thin pressure rested just over the artery in her neck. Not metal. Not wood.
Claws.
She turned slowly, ever so carefully, and met Eleanor's gaze.
The little girl smiled up at her. Sweetly. Innocently.
But her eyes—those green, shimmering eyes—were dead. Not cold. Not angry. Just… empty. A doll's eyes fixed on prey.
"Nanny," she said softly, "you're quite rude, don't you think?"
Debbie tried to speak, but her throat was dry.
"I didn't mind," Eleanor continued, claws still gently pressing into her skin, "for the first few days. I can tolerate some arrogance. But if you keep acting like this…"
Her head tilted, her smile never shifting.
"…Then maybe I should start getting rid of liabilities."
Debbie's legs trembled. No magic. No incantations. How? How? She was a Squib!
She tried to move, to flee—but before her hand could reach her wand, the shadows stirred behind Eleanor.
A golden rope slithered out of the air like a living serpent.
It wrapped around her arms, her legs, her chest. With a whisper, it tightened. Debbie gasped as she was wrenched downward, knees crashing to the floor, arms pinned.
Eleanor stepped forward, her expression not changing in the slightest. "Rope of Subduction. B+ tier. I bought it a year ago. Sentient, you know. Listens only to me. Unbreakable."
Debbie struggled, eyes wide. Her lungs began to burn. The rope responded to her panic by tightening, just enough to remind her: she was prey.
"I heard you made a magical pact," Eleanor said, crouching before her. "You're supposed to protect me, aren't you? But protecting and respecting… those are very different things."
She leaned in, her face inches from Debbie's.
"I can suggest to Father other ways to make up for your debt. Would you prefer that?"
Tears streamed down Debbie's cheeks as she nodded, face turning blue, breath shallow. She couldn't fight back. She couldn't speak. She was bound—both by the rope and the oath.
Eleanor blinked slowly.
The rope loosened.
Debbie collapsed onto the floor, sobbing, coughing, choking on her own fear.
---
Since that day, Debbie had not failed in her duties. She was attentive. Polite. Perfect.
The other staff noted the sudden shift. Gone was the dismissive nanny. In her place was a woman who moved like she was always being watched. Always aware. Always afraid to blink.
Because Debbie had seen what no one else had.
That child was not just some mafia heir.
She was something else.
Something unnatural.
---