Tentlese and Succubus - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Oneiros and the Gaudy Dreamscape

“At the deepest hour of the night, the Oneiros of Passion spreads her net; not upon the road, but within dreams. Whosoever adores her, their spirit shall wither, for she feeds upon the fire of the human heart.”

— Records of Strange Tales, Volume VIII

An Oneiros of Passion is a demi-demon fallen from the mortal realm. They are, in a sense, immortal, but they must consume an unending flow of love to barter for their continued survival. Cases of humans descending into such creatures are extremely rare; the processes and catalysts vary for each. Feared by humans and despised by gods and demons alike, they can only live in solitude, hiding their true names.

Anowei had never deigned to approach these cunning, fawning beings, which was why she hadn’t recognized the woman immediately.

…The woman’s seductive beauty and levity surely stemmed from this.

Inside the dream, the woman’s room was still filled with a warm, inviting fragrance. Twilight dyed the doors and windows the color of amber—warm yet somber. Anowei walked through the space but saw no sign of the mistress, only the faint, scattered sound of water from somewhere, like jade pearls falling to the floor.

“You’re here. Come in,” the woman said.

Creaaaak—

Following the source of the voice, Anowei pushed open the half-masked wooden door deep within the bedroom. Milky-white water vapor rushed toward her, swallowing her whole in an instant.

…This was the woman’s bathroom.

Petals, strands of hair, and two snow-white arms floated upon the mist-shrouded surface of the water. The woman lay leisurely in the bathtub, swirling the scarlet liquid in her glass. Her gaze drifted to Anowei, surveying her with great interest.

“Come closer.”

The woman’s voice was like sweet wine, wrapped in hot mist, entangling the God’s ears.

Anowei stood her ground, asking indifferently, “…Why did you call for me?”

The trap of an Oneiros was so clumsy and gaudy; surely no one would fall for it.

…The God remained here only because somewhere in this dream, a clue regarding the Underworld Pact might be hidden.

Suddenly, water splashed everywhere.

The woman set down her glass and stood up from the tub. Her footsteps fell upon the teak floor, leaving behind small, clear puddles. Countless droplets, one after another, streamed down her body. Her skin was damp and translucent, like the flesh of a lychee newly stripped of its rough shell.

The God was by no means flustered. It was merely that her gaze had nowhere to rest, so she was forced to look at the misty mirror nearby.

…In the hazy reflection, a warm white figure was steadily approaching her.

The woman stepped so close she was almost standing on Anowei’s toes. Pink toes stopped in front of mud-stained leather boots.

“Lift your head and look at me,” the woman said.

“…If there is nothing else, I am going back.”

That is what the God said.

But the fragrance carrying the woman’s body heat seeped into the water vapor, surrounding her from all sides like a shapeless embrace, attempting to block her path of retreat. The woman’s breath brushed against her neck, her voice carrying a soft chuckle of unknown intent.

“Look at me, and then I’ll tell you.”

Anowei turned to leave.

A God does not flee.

She had once charged alone into the chaotic wars of the gods and had countless times repelled human crusades against her. She had stood in a sea of blood, watching as a Saintess tore her soul into seven pieces, and had endured a thousand tribulations to piece herself back together until she was nearly whole. The God feared nothing; the God was steeped in iniquity.

A God does not flee.

She simply did not wish to be entangled with a despicable Oneiros.

Anowei retreated to the bedroom, but the unclothed woman chased after her from the bathroom, grabbing her wrist.

“Why are you hiding from me? Do you think I’ll eat you?”

“Who knows if you eat people or not.”

Anowei retorted with a cold face. Just as she broke free of the woman’s hand, her other wrist was seized.

…Endless.

“Stop doing such boring things. I am really going back.”

She turned sideways to warn the woman, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman step on a loose rug. Her balance vanished instantly, and she fell toward her. Anowei intended to steady her, but having taken half a step out, she was also taken down by the sliding rug, falling to the floor with the woman.

Thud—

The floor let out a muffled groan.

…Anowei fell to the ground, and the woman fell into her arms like a bundle of wet, soft clouds. Her left hand was still supporting the woman’s arm; their skin overlapped, the contrast in color exceptionally vivid.

In tonight’s dream, she was a hard-working laborer, tanned dark and shiny by the sun, while the woman’s skin was like warm milk—damp, soft, and saturated with water.

“Are you alright?”

The God was polite, so she showed instinctive concern. As she looked up, she crashed into the woman’s moist eyes, which shimmered with two deliberately pitiful tears.

“My knee hurts so much, I think I’m injured… Could you help me apply some medicine?”

…How the tables have turned. The person acting as a cushion on the floor was clearly her.

The God sighed at a volume she herself couldn’t hear. “Put your clothes on first.”

The woman lay on Anowei’s chest, lifting a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Her breath was as soft as her hair, brushing against her cheek.

“My leg hurts. You go get it.”

Anowei didn’t speak. The woman just stared at her expectantly, forcing her to agree.

…The God was helpless.

Anowei placed her arm behind the woman’s back, rolled over, and climbed up from the floor, taking the opportunity to carry the woman to the bed. She pulled a nightgown from the wardrobe and tossed it to her. By the time Anowei returned from the butler with the ointment, Lin Yuanning had finally wrapped herself in the robe and was unhurriedly tying the belt.

Anowei knelt by the bed, head down to inspect the woman’s injury. On the left knee was a small, light red scrape; it didn’t look serious. Anowei pinched a cotton ball soaked in ointment and began to apply it to the wound in circles.

“It hurts…”

The woman shrank toward the corner of the bed to avoid her hand.

“Don’t move.”

Anowei caught the woman’s slender ankle, pulled her left foot close, and rested it firmly on her own knee. This was likely the first time in the God’s incredibly long life that she had actively touched a woman.

…How could she be so soft, and so warm?

She was like frosted porcelain—translucent, warm, and delicate. The thin calluses on Anowei’s fingertips barely brushed her, yet they nearly left marks on the woman’s ankle. Anowei lightened her touch as much as possible, but generally speaking, the God was not skilled at such tasks. Furthermore, the God herself was somewhat preoccupied and not entirely focused.

“Mm…”

The woman’s calf remained tense. Her fingers gripped Anowei’s shoulder as she struggled to endure the pain; a few low moans escaped her lips following the movements. Anowei finished applying the medicine and looked up, only to find the woman was so close that only a single breath’s distance remained between their noses.

…Anowei finally realized that their current posture and actions were perhaps a bit ambiguous.

“Done.”

She hurried to lower her head, avoiding the woman’s gaze as she picked up the jar of medicine from the floor.

“The other side needs it too.”

With that, the woman lifted her other foot and rested it on Anowei’s knee. Anowei glanced at it and continued packing the items. “The other side isn’t injured.”

She stood up to head for the door. The woman chased after her, her footsteps uneven.

…It was impossible for the God to slow down and wait for her just because she was injured.

Just as she was about to exit, the corner of Anowei’s clothes was tugged.

“I just wanted you… to touch me a bit more,” the woman said in a tiny voice.

A strange and unfamiliar sensation came from the left side of her chest—like pain, yet also like an itch.

“…If you are injured, rest well.”

Anowei pulled her hem back, walked out of the woman’s bedroom, passed through several archways and several flights of stairs, and only then lifted her arm to rub her aching chest. She had merely created a body by imitating human physiological structures; she shouldn’t be feeling such a throb.

It was impossible for her to be deceived by an Oneiros.

The manor sank into the night. The intense lingering glow of the sunset hung at the horizon like unconsumed fire.

“Hey, Anowei, what did the boss say to you?”

Back at the dorm, Li Yuan flipped down from the top bunk, her curiosity almost spilling over.

“Told me to work overtime,” Anowei told the truth.

Li Yuan let out a long sigh. “Ugh, I figured. I noticed a long time ago—even though she looks very likable, as a boss, she’s still a bit too stingy. She never pays overtime…”

…It wasn’t a matter of overtime pay.

The Oneiros’s dream was designed quite exquisitely, with few flaws. Anowei went undercover in the manor for several days but had yet to find a trace of the Underworld Pact. Lin Yuanning, however, was like a fish in water within the illusion of her own making, indulging in sights and sounds. The banquet lights were as bright as day, and the mansion echoed with joyful, light dance music.

Anowei lay on the hard wooden bed in the dorm, looking out the window with boredom. The woman, wearing a half-face cat mask and holding a wine glass, leaned against the balcony of the ballroom. Her slender figure was wrapped in a dark red gown; she was not hard to distinguish. The guests approaching her for conversation were endless all night long, vying to offer her their adoration. The woman socialized with grace and elegance, yet she did not take anyone’s hand to step onto the dance floor.

The night was somber enough to hide all of an Oneiros’s secrets.

“Anowei, look what I found! A suitcase left behind by Miss Ouyang!”

Li Yuan rushed into the dorm holding a pile of fabric and, ignoring Anowei’s attempt to block her, quickly spread them out on her bed.

—Two finely tailored formal gowns, paired with handmade masks encrusted with crystal beads.

Li Yuan was beaming. “Put these on, and we can sneak into the masquerade ball and gorge ourselves on the feast!”

“You go,” Anowei said calmly.

“How can you not be excited at all! I just passed the kitchen and took a peek. They made so many steaks, roasted chickens, and maple cakes today…”

“You go.” The God remained indifferent.

“Tsk, you’re really no fun. I’m going by myself!”

Li Yuan gave up on inviting an accomplice, changed into a luxurious gown alone, and hurried out of the dorm, rushing toward the steaks and roasted chickens she was pining for.

Anowei looked out the window again. The woman was still standing languidly on the balcony, attracting one tireless prey after another. The black gown lay quietly on the corner of the bed.

…The God realized there was one more place in the dream she had yet to search.

Anowei put on a clown’s mask and stepped into the mansion’s corridor. She patrolled the woman’s bedroom a few times but found nothing. Just as she was about to leave, she noticed the portrait hanging in the corner.

—A woman in a black velvet gown, sitting in a garden with a smile. On her ring finger was a massive ring, the cushion-cut gemstone as crimson as blood.

Anowei lifted a finger, brushing over the rough texture of the oil painting. her patience and time had been consumed for too long. She had to do something.

The woman’s voice sounded behind her without warning.

“What are you looking for?”

“I seem to be lost. I want to go back to the ballroom.”

Anowei lowered her voice and turned around calmly. The woman with the half-cat face stood by the door, smiling with cunning lightness. Cold moonlight pierced the window, outlining the woman’s slender jaw and a pair of excessively charming eyes.

“Perhaps you can follow the sound of the music to find your way back,” she said.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” the God replied fluently. “Apologies. This painting is beautiful, and the ring is beautiful as well. I was quite entranced.”

With that, Anowei prepared to pass by the woman and leave the bedroom. Instead of making way, the woman stepped forward, cornering Anowei against the wall.

“And me? Am I not beautiful?” She seemed dissatisfied with Anowei’s words.

Anowei smelled a faint hint of drunkenness on the woman and subtly blocked the woman’s shoulder as she drew too near.

“…You are drunk.”

But the woman still flowed into her arms like water. Her scorching breath was almost pressed against Anowei’s ear, her voice sweet and sticky, soaking the very air.

“Then stay here and take care of me, alright?”

A small fire had been brewing in the God’s heart for some time. The more the woman spoke with sweet words, the more intense that fire became, as if it would burn through her heart.

Anowei grabbed the woman’s wrists, turned her around abruptly, and pinned her against the wall.