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Victorique’s Dream Interpretation – Part 05

Victorique found herself in a dream, drifting like a leaf on huge waves. Eyes closed, she sank deeper into slumber.

At the edge of her consciousness, a vision emerged—a beautiful, petite woman with lustrous golden hair, bearing a striking resemblance to Victorique. Her cherry-red lips parted to convey a message.

“Be… careful.”

“Maman,” Victorique murmured.

“This is a dangerous place. A descent into the depths of the subconscious. My daughter, be wary of the perils as you journey downward.” Her golden hair fluttered as she faded away. “Stay vigilant. An enemy… awaits you down there.”

“Okay.” Victorique nodded readily like a child.

Then, the woman with the golden hair whispered once more, “My beloved daughter…”

With a prolonged sigh, she dissipated. Victorique continued her descent into the abyss.

Soon, she discerned a slim figure nearby, observing her intently. His features were blurred and indistinct. He was dressed in aristocratic attire, with platinum blond hair tied back. With a sinister chuckle, he roughly jostled Victorique’s shoulder.

“My daughter.” His dark voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth. “Did you think you could go to the New World and escape your father?”

It was the voice of the man who haunted Victorique’s nightmarish childhood—Marquis Albert de Blois. Supposedly consumed by flames in the final moments of the second storm, yet here he stood.

“Listen, child. Offspring of the cursed Gray Wolf. Humans may flee the living. Go far, far away!”

Victorique’s face turned blank, and she shut her eyes tight.

“But you can’t run away from the dead. Never! Because those deeply involved with you will eventually become one with you. The souls of the departed will accompany you in your journey, my daughter. Hahaha!”

“F-Father…”

“My spirit has traveled into this new realm with your vessel. Yes, I am ever by your side! Manifesting as your nightmares!”

“Ugh…”

Victorique emitted a faint moan tinged with melancholy.

Summoning her courage, she opened her eyes. Initially obscured by mist, her vision gradually cleared. Before her stood a slender young man, his features becoming discernible.

Victorique looked closer.

It was a handsome man with flowing platinum blond hair and violet eyes, reminiscent of a youthful Albert de Blois but distinct. He reclined elegantly at a finely wrought desk, his cheeks resting on his hand. Then, he turned to her direction with a suspicious look. His face drew closer and closer, and his violet eyes snapped wide open.

“Who are you?”

It was an unfamiliar voice. Victorique swallowed, but maintained her composure.

“I’m nobody. Merely a humble private detective.” She met his gaze unwaveringly. “And who might you be?”

Victorique’s petite frame abruptly twisted, tumbling away. No one remained. There was no sound. How much time had passed, she couldn’t tell.

Victorique continued her descent into the abyss. Into the dark depths of her mind. Falling straight into an unknown, pitch-black space, like the bottom of a swamp, the beginning of the universe, a decadent future. She surrendered her body to the fall while despair engulfed her mind.

The voices of the men faded away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Only her past and future lay before her.

Then, near her ear, a familiar voice echoed—Dr. Boleid’s laughter.

“Who are you?” Victorique whispered.

The doctor chuckled. “Oh, lovely lady, cursed by the hands of fate! I don’t know who you are, but you seem to have gathered quite a few enemies.”

Footsteps tapped rhythmically. She had stopped falling. But the surroundings were shrouded in blackness, devoid of anyone’s presence. Victorique could only hear the sound of footsteps circling around her, jumping and tapping.

“Have you found the dog yet?” the voice teased.

“What?” Victorique echoed, puzzled.

“Is the depths of the subconscious cozy?”

“The subconscious?”

Regaining her senses, Victorique looked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The darkness persisted, and the only sound was Dr. Boleid’s laughter.

Victorique resumed falling, and this time she kept her eyes open, paying attention to the sounds and sensations around her.

Finally, she had reached the bottom. Her buttocks bounced, and she landed face down on a soft surface. She stretched herself on a fluffy carpet.

Consciousness slowly returned. In her dream, Victorique opened her emerald-green eyes. She was lying in a beautiful meadow, a gentle breeze caressing her.

She heard Kazuya’s voice calling out urgently in the distance. Victorique listened closely, her expression softening as a faint smile graced her lips. Her usually cold façade melted away, replaced by a lovely tinge of red.

A refreshing breeze blew. Her silver hair tossed against the blue sky, and blades of grass drifted in the air. The meadow was so enchanting, she wished she could lie there forever.

Victorique blinked, and she realized she was dreaming. Her lips lifted into a bitter smile.

Slowly she opened her mouth. “I remember now! I was in a church in Little Italy. Gangsters were firing their guns. People were being suspended from the ceiling with pulleys. And yet…”

Her voice trailed off as she reached out her hands to feel the warmth of the sun on her palms.

“Think,” she said, tilting her head. “I believe I was investigating a murder case. Then I caught a whiff of these weird tea leaves that Dr. Boleid had been giving his patients and fell asleep. It was likely tea with a unique hypnotic effect.”

Victorique rose grumpily. There was no one else on the meadow.

But soon, the quiet was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Victorique narrowed her eyes, trying to discern the figure drawing nearer.

As it came into view, it revealed itself to be a dog. For a while, Victorique just stared at it blankly, but when it wagged its tail, she cautiously extended her small and chubby hand to stroke its head. A faint smile tugged at her lips, and a gentle atmosphere wrapped around her briefly.

Suddenly, a voice boomed in her ear. “Ah, the lovely young lady has found the dog in her mind.”

Victorique turned slowly. There stood a fine, bearded gentleman, donning a silk hat and holding a red cane—Dr. Boleid. He didn’t have to dance in the dreamworld.

“That dog must be the representation of your inner wildness and ferocity,” he said with a friendly yet unsettling smile. “So, what’s your plan now? Will you hide your true nature and live peacefully as an ordinary citizen of New York city, or will you choose a different path? What kind of person will you become in this city?”

“Dr. G.I. Boleid?”

“I’m so glad we could see each other again so soon. I did promise to meet you in the depths of your subconscious.”

“But this is my dream,” Victorique said with both displeasure and bewilderment. “In which case, you’re merely a product of my imagination.”

Dr. Boleid laughed. “You’d do well not to underestimate me. I’m from the Old World. I have powers beyond the understanding of science and the New World’s conventional knowledge.”

“Hmm.”

“What I’m saying is: I can journey through the subconscious. I sometimes explore the dreams of interesting patients or people I’ve grown attached to and have enjoyable conversations.”

“I see. You infiltrated the depths of your patients’ consciousness and ordered them to commit murder there.”

“What?” Dr. Boleid’s expression slowly shifted. He studied Victorique from head to toe. “Lovely lady, how do you know that?”

Victorique smirked knowingly. “You will learn about it eventually, so I might as well tell you now. I’m a private detective investigating the infamous Gang Serial Murder Case for a specific reason. My search for the true culprit led me to you. And I’m currently trying to find your main target.”

Dr. Boleid exhaled sharply. “Is that so? I doubt you would figure it out.” He flashed a smug grin.

“Oh, I will figure it out. Fortunately, due to unfortunate circumstances, I’m currently in the depths of my own subconscious. I will locate fragments of chaos that are hidden deep in my mind.”

Dr. Boleid regarded her skeptically. “Am I hearing this correctly? You will attempt to interpret your own dreams? Hmph. Amateurs can’t handle such complex psychology. You will never understand what the things in your dreams symbolize in the real world. No matter how brilliant you are, it’s an impossible task!”

“You may not know this, Dr. Boleid.” Victorique put on a bewitching smile. “For my brain, nothing is impossible.”

The wind whistled. Dr. Boleid was taken aback by Victorique’s confidence. The wind picked up, obscuring the surroundings. Victorique peered hard into the distance through the gust. Her silver hair billowed towards the clear sky like a mythical creature’s mane.

“Hmm?”

After a while, Victorique realized that Dr. Boleid had vanished. The black dog by her feet was gone too.