Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

The room was filled with the delicate scent of incense, illuminated by soft candlelight, its decor mysterious and intricate. On a high stool sat a black cat, its gaze fixed on the girl stirring awake in the armchair. The cat spoke with a serious tone.

“Saria, tell me honestly, did you encounter danger in the Dreamscape?”

Hearing the cat’s words, Saria composed herself, shaking off the haze of sleep. She answered hesitantly, “Y-yes, Grandpa. I ran into members of the Black Dream Hunters. They were chasing me… I barely escaped.”

“The Black Dream Society hunters?” The black cat snorted disdainfully.

“Those wretched scum, disgraceful traitors. They’re no better than flies, buzzing around everywhere despite their lack of skill.”

His tone turning even more severe, the cat continued, “You encountered those traitors, yet you don’t appear to have had your mimicry destroyed. How did you escape? With your current level of mimicry, it’s unlikely you could have evaded them.”

“Uh… about that…” Saria hesitated, her voice growing excited.

“Grandpa, listen carefully! What I’m about to tell you is absolutely true! You must believe me!”

The cat gave her a puzzled look as Saria launched into a detailed recounting of her encounter in the Dreamscape. The more he listened, the wider the black cat’s eyes grew.

“What? A dragon? You saw a dragon-shaped mimicry in the Dreamscape? Are you sure it wasn’t an illusion?”

Saria nodded fervently.

“I’m sure, Grandpa! That was no illusion! The dragon took out those hunters in just a few moves—it can’t possibly have been fake! It even admitted it was a mimicry!”

The black cat fell silent, his expression turning grave. He sat on the stool, lost in thought.

“A dragon… a dragon mimicry… How could such a thing appear in the Forest of the Dreamscape? It doesn’t make sense…” he muttered.

Curious, Saria asked, “Grandpa, aren’t mimicries of lions or tigers already incredibly powerful? Could this dragon be a high-ranking member of one of those secret societies?”

“High-ranking members? Hmph!” The cat let out a derisive laugh.

“Most of those so-called elites are a mess, barely human in essence. But even they remain fundamentally mortal.”

Adopting a didactic tone, the cat continued.

“Among mortals today, there’s almost no one who can mimic an ancient mythical creature. Even the so-called elites. To master such a mimicry spell, one must bear the mythical level of poison. Anyone capable of that would no longer qualify as mortal. Understand, Saria?”

Saria nodded, though she was still processing the implications.

She murmured, “No longer mortal… Is it really that terrifying? Thankfully, I didn’t provoke him. Maybe I even pleased him! I gave him the little piece of mystic knowledge I found tonight. Grandpa, do you think he might be pleased because of that?”

Saria’s excitement grew as she spoke, but the black cat froze, his fur bristling with alarm.

“What? You gave the mystic knowledge you collected to him? Are you out of your mind, meow?!”

The black cat stood up, his voice rising in anger.

“I haven’t even taught you the proper way to transfer knowledges in the Dreamscape! Doing it recklessly leaves behind mental imprints! A being like that could use such a minuscule imprint as a medium! You might already be entirely under his control! With a flick of his finger, he could end your life!”

The black cat’s scolding left Saria startled and upset, her lips trembling with suppressed tears.

“But… but he didn’t seem like a bad person. He seemed friendly. Surely, he wouldn’t harm me. Besides, you always taught me to repay kindness…”

“Friendly? Friendly my whiskers!” The black cat retorted sharply.

“The morals I taught you apply to the mortal world! You can’t apply those same concepts to the mystic world! Always be cautious! Never trust anyone! Haven’t you learned anything?!”

Saria sniffled, tears pooling in her eyes as she whispered, “I… I get it now, Grandpa… It was my mistake. Will I be killed now…?”

The black cat sighed, his tone softening slightly.

“Fine, perhaps I exaggerated a bit. If that being has reached such a level, they wouldn’t care about a small fry like you. Since you’re still unharmed, they likely didn’t consider your imprints significant. I just wanted to scare some sense into you. Be more careful next time.”

“Really? That’s such a relief, Grandpa!”

Saria’s face lit up with joy. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she grabbed the black cat and lifted him high, spinning him around.

“Put me down, you brat! Stop spinning, meow!”

Hearing the cat’s protests, Saria quickly set him down. The black cat immediately composed himself and issued a stern command.

“Go to bed! Starting tomorrow, you’ll focus on accumulating spirituality and advancing further. Only with greater strength can you handle stronger poison. Then I can teach you more advanced mimicry spells. If you don’t want to be hunted again, take this seriously!”

“Understood, Grandpa!”

…

Morning in Igwynt, as the sun climbed high.

Around noon, Dorothy finally woke from a deep slumber, groggily pulling herself out of bed. The previous night’s mental exhaustion still weighed heavily on her. Her stomach’s complaints were the only reason she got up.

“Guess I’ll grab something to eat and then sleep some more… Exploring the Dreamscape with mimicry is such a drain. I’ll give it a few days before going back…”

Clad in a white nightgown, Dorothy shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and opened it—only to see Gregor sitting in the living room with a stack of documents.

“Good afternoon, Dorothy. Sleeping in isn’t a good habit. You’ll need to fix that,” Gregor said with a teasing smile.

Dorothy, her hair disheveled, blinked at him in confusion.

“Gregor? Aren’t you supposed to be at work today?”

“I took the day off. I also have tomorrow morning off. Today, I’m preparing some materials and tools for you. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to register for school. I told you about this before, remember?”

“School? Huh?”

After spending the night immersed in forbidden knowledge, the word “school” struck Dorothy as both familiar and utterly alien—a remnant of a distant world.