chp3
The merchant, still dripping with nervous sweat, knew he had to appease the powerful Dream Lord in front of him. Offering free items and skills wasn't something he normally did, but Eleanor—whom he believed to be an incredibly powerful individual—was worth the risk.
> "
Eleanor's golden eyes flickered with interest, but outwardly, she kept her calm, regal demeanor intact. She knew how the game worked—if she looked too eager, the merchant might think he had leverage over her.
Instead, she gave a measured response, her tone deliberate and slow, carrying an almost casual warning.
> "Oho, of course. I never forget a favor nor an insult. Don't worry."
The merchant's posture stiffened slightly, taking her words to heart. This was a reminder that if he ever tried to cheat her, she wouldn't let it slide.
The merchant hurriedly continued, hoping to please his high-profile customer.
> "
Eleanor kept her expression neutral, but internally, she was a little underwhelmed.
> Not bad, but not particularly exciting either…
The merchant, misreading her silence as disappointment, panicked again. As a seasoned merchant, he hated parting with truly overpowered items without a high price, but he also knew he needed to keep her interested.
So, after a brief moment of hesitation, he quickly added another item to the deal.
> " "<●Diviner's Veil: Once bound to the owner, no diviner can see a future involving the veil's owner directly.>" After finishing his offer, the merchant nervously gauged Eleanor's reaction. Eleanor, hiding her true thoughts, slowly nodded, allowing just a hint of satisfaction to show. > "Hmm, I won't bully you too much. Those are enough." Inwardly, though, she felt a tinge of regret. > Damn. He didn't include the Sundrop Flower Brew… However, revealing her desire for it would give the merchant leverage over her. She had to play this carefully. --- > "How much is the Sundrop Brew?" The merchant, sensing a golden opportunity, perked up. > " > " Eleanor's soul practically left her body for a second. > SIX THOUSAND NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE?! Her eyes remained impassive, but internally, she was screaming. > I ONLY HAVE 100 COINS! > If this was an A+ grade, then what about higher-grade items? Still, she knew she had to maintain her image. No need to expose her lack of wealth. > "What about the average C-grade skills?" The merchant, still trying to impress her, waved his hand dismissively. > " He then added, his voice slightly smug— > " Eleanor, resisting the urge to sigh, quickly reversed the narrative. > "I like to purchase anything that amuses me. It doesn't matter its grade as long as it's interesting. Hmph." The merchant froze for a moment, staring at her. > Big shots really are unpredictable… He didn't understand her reasoning, but who was he to question a powerful Dream Lord? --- Purchasing a Dagger > "What about the C-grade items?" The merchant blinked, then quickly answered. > " Eleanor immediately made a decision. > "Give me a C- dagger, and keep the change. The dagger should look artistic." The merchant visibly perked up. > " Although it wasn't a huge tip, most customers didn't even acknowledge the merchants, let alone give them a little extra. To the merchant, this was a significant gesture—a sign that Eleanor was worth cultivating a connection with. > If I stay in her good graces, this might be the most important client I'll ever have… He made a quick decision to secure this business relationship. --- > " " Eleanor raised a brow. > "Title?" > " Eleanor smirked slightly. > "Interesting." She thought for a moment, then said— > "Pathfinder." The merchant shook his head. > " > "Pathfinder 123." > " Eleanor's eye twitched. > "Fine. Sigh. Hmm… World Destroyer." > " At this point, Eleanor was genuinely disturbed. > Who the hell is out here naming themselves "World Destroyer" in a dream market?! > "Fine, fine… How about ChaosCupcake?" The merchant's eyes widened slightly at the ridiculous name, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. > " > "As for the name, put Selena." The merchant paused. > " Eleanor's golden eyes gleamed slightly. > "Yes, it is." For a moment, the merchant simply stared, as if trying to see if she was lying. Then, after deciding that he didn't want to pry into a Dream Lord's secrets, he nodded. > " --- As soon as the transaction was complete, Eleanor felt a pulling sensation. Her consciousness was yanked out of the dream world, her surroundings shifting into darkness. When she finally opened her eyes again, she was back in her baby body—her tiny, fragile form resting in a crib. -------- From the moment she gained access to the realm of dreams, Eleanor made it her mission to explore the subconscious minds of those around her. The system had explained that her power—Dream Walker—allowed her to enter the dreams of others and harvest the emotions they experienced. These emotions, once collected, transformed into coins, which she could then use to strengthen herself and expand her Dream Domain. However, there was a catch. The system had also warned her: > [Caution: Those with higher intelligence or heightened magical awareness may sense your presence in their dreams.] For now, Eleanor didn't find anything amiss. No one had noticed her intrusions, and she was free to move undetected. --- Understanding the Value of Emotions Over time, she began categorizing the emotional value of different individuals. 1. The Average Mature Mind Whether wizard or Muggle, their dreams and emotional output followed a similar pattern. When Eleanor entered the dreams of adults, she noticed their emotional responses were muted, often controlled or suppressed by their logical reasoning. Even in their wildest dreams, their reactions were more tempered, and as a result, she could only harvest around 20 coins per dream. Eleanor theorized that those with higher intelligence or magical awareness might yield more coins. However, since she hadn't encountered such a person yet, she wasn't entirely sure whether intelligence correlated to stronger dreams or more harvestable emotions. Given the current data, it seemed unlikely—after all, intelligence often dampened emotional volatility, meaning it might not necessarily lead to more dream energy. At first, her earnings seemed limited—just a steady trickle of coins from those around her. But then, she made a startling discovery. Once Eleanor grew older and entered kindergarten, she decided to expand her range and test her abilities on a new type of dreamer—children. And that's when things became far more interesting. > Children's dreams were an entirely different battlefield. Unlike adults, who had structured and often logical dreams, children's subconscious minds were chaotic, unpredictable, and extremely vivid. A few observations Eleanor quickly made: 1. Children's Dreams Had No Rules Unlike adults, who dreamed about realistic scenarios (work stress, family problems, fears of failure), children's dreams defied all logic. Reality twisted and warped in absurd ways—she could enter a dream where she was a princess one moment, only for it to suddenly turn into a nightmare where the furniture came to life and chased her. 2. Chaotic and Dangerous One time, she entered a young boy's dream, expecting something simple. Instead, she was immediately chased by an army of giant teddy bears with glowing red eyes, their tiny arms swinging battle axes as they charged after her. Another time, she found herself in a classic fairy tale scenario—but something was off. A kindly old grandmother sat in a rocking chair, knitting. But as Eleanor approached, the woman suddenly transformed, her face splitting open as a wolf's snout jutted forward, lunging at her with razor-sharp teeth. > Conclusion? Children's dreams were far more chaotic and dangerous than those of sane, mature individuals. However, they also had a huge advantage— > Children's emotions were far more expressive, intense, and honest. Eleanor soon realized that while children's dreams were dangerous, the emotional energy they produced was far richer and more powerful. Adults were restrained. They suppressed emotions even in their dreams. Children, however, felt everything at full intensity. Joy, fear, excitement, wonder—it was all raw and unfiltered. And this difference had a huge impact on her coin earnings. The more expressive and creative the child was, the more valuable their dreams became. > A child with great imagination could generate more coins in one night than an adult in a week. This meant that Eleanor, rather than wasting time entering boring adult dreams, could instead target children—where her income would be five times higher for the same amount of effort. Through years of experimentation, Eleanor reached the following conclusions about dream harvesting: 1. Children were the best sources of emotional energy. Their dreams were wild, unpredictable, and sometimes terrifying. However, they generated far more emotions, making them far more profitable. 2. Adult dreams were stable but not as rewarding. They were predictable and lacked intensity, making them less valuable. Wizards and Muggles weren't too different in terms of dream energy. 3. High intelligence does not necessarily mean more coins. The most profitable dreamers weren't necessarily the smartest—they were the ones who felt things the most intensely. 4. Children's dreams were the most dangerous. Their imagination could turn anything into a weapon. The dream environment was uncontrollable, meaning Eleanor had to be extra cautious. > "Harvesting emotions from dreams isn't just about entering people's subconscious. It's about knowing where the strongest emotions exist." And with this knowledge, Eleanor planned her next moves carefully—because if she could master the chaotic world of dreams, she could eventually master the waking world as well. ----- The warm glow of the chandelier bathed the Donovan-Vale dining room in golden light as the family gathered for their usual dinner. Seated at the grand oak table were Jonathan Vale, the composed and strategic head of the Vale family, Helena Donovan, the sharp and business-savvy heiress of the Donovan Group, Jeremy Donovan, Helena's father and a powerful figure in the Muggle business world, and of course, their five-year-old daughter, Eleanor Donovan Vale—the supposed Squib who harbored a secret unlike any other. Despite the disappointment of Eleanor being born without magic, they never treated her any differently. If anything, her maturity and keen observations made them view her as an equal, rather than just a child. Conversations at the dinner table were rarely about trivial matters—business, trade deals, and political affairs were the usual topics. Eleanor had spent the last five years meticulously cultivating her hidden abilities. Through careful experimentation and patient harvesting, she had gathered over 6000 dream coins, purchasing minor skills that she could subtly incorporate into her daily life. She had chosen wisely: Minor Illusion (C+): Creating illusions as large as an average adult, perfect for visual tricks. Minor Healing (C+): Healing small scratches—useful but unimpressive to most. Misty Mouth (C+): Releasing a soft mist from her mouth, eerie and mysterious. Piercing Nails (C+): Strengthened, elongated nails that could be retracted. Stable Vision (C+): Clear sight through mist and stability in light variations. Despite her young age, Eleanor was methodical. She had no intention of exposing herself fully—not yet. But planting seeds of intrigue? That, she could do. As they ate, Eleanor's voice cut through the table, her tone holding just the right amount of childish excitement to mask her true intentions. "Dad, Mom, Grandpa—I think I have a superpower!!" Her words made the entire table pause. Helena, mid-bite, lowered her fork, her sharp green eyes snapping to her daughter in curiosity. "Oh? And what is it, my princess?" she asked, amusement laced in her voice. Eleanor beamed, feigning innocence. "I can play in dreams! Last night, I played in Dad's dream! We were visiting this big house! It had talking pictures and a beautiful garden!" Jonathan stiffened, his knife clinking against his plate. His steel-gray eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at his daughter. Because that was exactly what he had dreamt about last night. Eleanor wasn't done. She giggled, swinging her feet under the chair like a carefree child. "And the other time, I talked to Grandma in Grandpa's dream! She had green eyes like Mom and me!" Jeremy, who had been casually sipping his wine, froze mid-motion. His knuckles went white against the glass. Eleanor saw it—the flicker of emotion in his eyes. Then, she delivered the final blow. "Also, look!! I can do this too!" She lifted her small hands, her fingers elegantly moving through the air as though she were conducting an orchestra of light and memory. Before them, an illusion formed—an ethereal figure with soft, aged features, piercing green eyes, and a warm, knowing smile. The illusion of Eleanor's deceased grandmother. The room fell utterly silent. Helena's fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against her plate. Jonathan, the ever-composed businessman, looked at his daughter with unreadable intensity. But it was Jeremy whose reaction was the most visceral. The old man stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he stepped closer to the illusion. His breathing was uneven, and for a moment, his stern, business-like demeanor cracked. His eyes softened as he gazed at the illusion. "Eliza…" he murmured, his voice hoarse. Helena's mother, Eliza Donovan, had passed away years ago. It had been a wound that never quite healed, especially for Jeremy. Eleanor remained silent, watching them, observing their reactions. She had not said she was a Squib. She had not claimed to be magical. She had only shown them something impossible. And now, the seed was planted. After the initial shock of Eleanor's revelation had settled, the Donovan-Vale family gathered in the lavish sitting room adjacent to the dining hall. The room was elegantly furnished, with deep green velvet sofas and polished wooden tables adorned with expensive crystal ornaments. A crackling fireplace cast flickering shadows across the high ceiling, creating an intimate yet intense atmosphere. Eleanor sat comfortably on one of the plush armchairs, her small frame dwarfed by the size of the furniture. Across from her, Jonathan Vale, Helena Donovan, and Jeremy Donovan sat attentively, their postures relaxed but their eyes sharp with interest. This was no longer a casual dinner conversation—this was a business discussion. --- Helena, her striking green eyes filled with curiosity, leaned forward slightly, her voice soft yet firm. "So you're telling us you're some sort of... Dream Walker?" Eleanor nodded enthusiastically, making sure to keep her expression bright and innocent, as though she were just an excited child sharing a fun discovery. "Yes! I can enter dreams! And sometimes, I get abilities from the dreams I visit!" She chose her words carefully, mixing truth with carefully constructed lies. She had already decided that she wouldn't fully reveal the mechanics of her powers—not yet. There was no reason to give up all her cards. She needed them to believe she was valuable. She needed them to see her as an asset, not a liability. Because if there was one thing Eleanor knew, it was that family business came before everything else. And if, someday, she had a younger sibling who was born a wizard, she wouldn't sit back and let everything fall into their hands. She wouldn't risk being left behind. And besides, she had one major advantage: the Vale and Donovan families had a strict code—'Family First.' If there was anyone she could trust, it was them. Jonathan Vale, a man known for his sharp business acumen, let out a booming laugh, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Hah! I knew my daughter is no Squib!" Despite being a pureblood noble, Jonathan was not a fanatic about blood purity. In fact, he had always admired intelligence and ability above all else. Eleanor, despite being labeled a Squib, had always been unusually perceptive and sharp for her age—now it all made sense. Jeremy Donovan, the calculating patriarch of the Donovan family, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Unlike Jonathan, who reacted with pure joy, Jeremy's mind was already working through the implications. "Hmm... so you're saying you can enter someone's dream? Interesting." His gray eyes sharpened, and Eleanor could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Is there a condition to do so?" Eleanor, knowing better than to seem too powerful, tilted her head slightly, pretending to think. "I have to know a certain amount of information about the target," she finally admitted. Jeremy smiled slowly, his gaze deep in thought. "Huhuhu... great, great!" he chuckled, his fingers tapping against the armrest. It was clear to Eleanor that he had already seen the potential business applications of her ability. -- Helena, ever the strategist, spoke next. "This means that, theoretically, you could gather information on important figures in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds... without them ever knowing." Eleanor kept her face carefully neutral, but inwardly, she was impressed by how quickly her mother grasped the value of her power. Jonathan, still grinning, looked at Jeremy. "What do you think, old man?" Jeremy leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "I think we need to nurture this gift. If used wisely, it could be our greatest advantage." He then turned his full attention to Eleanor, his voice serious. "From now on, you'll attend more classes about how to manage the Donovan Group." Eleanor felt a thrill of satisfaction. This was exactly what she wanted. She wasn't just a child anymore. She was an heir. Eleanor, seated comfortably in the grand Donovan-Vale sitting room, tilted her head innocently, her deep green eyes gleaming with just the right amount of curiosity and naivety. The flickering firelight played across her delicate features, giving her an air of innocence that was completely intentional. She had full control over this conversation—and she knew it. With an almost absentminded tone, she spoke. "It's weird though... usually, I can enter a dream as long as I have a basic understanding of the target..." She let her voice trail off, watching the reactions of the three powerful adults sitting around her. Jeremy Donovan, her grandfather and a master businessman, immediately narrowed his gaze, his sharp mind already working through the implications. Jonathan Vale, her father, leaned forward slightly, curiosity flickering in his stormy gray eyes. Helena Donovan-Vale, her mother, remained poised and elegant, but Eleanor could tell that behind her soft smile, she was fully engaged in what she was saying. Eleanor let a moment of silence pass before adding, "But there are a few people in the manor whose dreams I couldn't enter, no matter how much I tried." This time, she carefully watched their reactions. As expected, Jeremy's posture straightened ever so slightly—a subtle but unmistakable sign that he was taking this very seriously. Helena's warm smile remained, but Eleanor noticed the slight way her fingers tightened around the armrest of her chair. Jonathan, always more direct than his father-in-law, raised a brow and spoke first. "What do you mean by that, Ellie?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying edge to it. Eleanor simply shrugged, keeping her tone light and playful, as though she were just a child making an innocent observation. "I don't know! Maybe it's nothing. But… it kind of makes me wonder..." She trailed off again, letting curiosity hang in the air. Jeremy, always quick to catch onto important details, leaned forward, his fingers steepled together. "Are you saying," he asked slowly, "that they may have lied about their identity?" Eleanor blinked, her expression the perfect mixture of innocence and mild surprise. "Maybe?" she said, drawing out the word as though she hadn't considered the possibility until now. She had. But it was better for them to think they reached the conclusion themselves. The room fell into tense silence. The three adults exchanged glances. In the world of business and power, secrets were currency. If there were people in their home whose dreams Eleanor couldn't access, then it meant one of two things: 1. They had extremely strong mental defenses. 2. They weren't who they claimed to be. Both possibilities were dangerous. Helena, ever the tactician, leaned in slightly, her voice remaining soft and warm. "Honey," she said gently, "can you perhaps point them out?" Eleanor, as if excited by her mother's request, beamed brightly and nodded. "Yes! Sure!!" she chirped. Inside, she smiled. Now, let's see who's hiding what.