Chapter 126: Dreams of Days Gone By II

What exactly was being overlooked?

The warmer the scene, the more intense the sense of dissonance Amy felt.

"How are things with your classmates?" The head of the Ulysses household meticulously sliced his steak, the dark pupils of his eyes refracting a soft light under the glow of the lamp. "Is it your first time learning and playing with so many children? Are you adjusting well?"

"Mhm, the boys are a bit annoying."

Giving a distracted reply, little Yulia continued to struggle clumsily with her steak.

*Snap—*

With a sharp, crisp sound, the silver dinner knife in the man's hand accidentally snapped in two.

"Did they bully you?" A sinister expression flickered across Leo Ulysses' face, but under the gaze of his wife and daughter, it gradually softened. His eyes drifted as he changed the subject. "Well, the quality of the cutlery here is truly terrible. It would be quite troublesome if it broke inside the meat while cutting."

"Ahem." Enid interrupted the awkward conversation with a polite, albeit forced, cough.

"It's actually alright." Little Yulia’s gaze remained fixed on the steak on her plate. The transcendent power of the Glorified usually manifested gradually as secondary sexual characteristics began to develop; for now, she was just an ordinary girl who could do nothing against a piece of steak. "It’s just that they always like to mess with my hair and put caterpillars, spiders, and dead mice in my desk drawer."

*Crackle, crackle, crackle—*

Frost spread uncontrollably across the dinner table, only to be cut off right at the edge of Enid’s hand.

"Boys are indeed quite annoying—pushy and self-righteous. Hmm, come to think of it, men in general are pretty much the same." The silver-haired beauty cast an unusually tender look at her husband before withdrawing her gaze, speaking as if she were merely making idle chatter. "There should only ever be one attitude toward them: never show them any mercy."

"So I beat them all up," little Yulia said, ignoring the war on the dinner table and staring at the battered steak as if it were a class enemy. "Every single one of them."

Was Yulia really that violent?

The youth standing to the side wiped away a cold sweat that didn't exist, not even noticing the jarring, out-of-place term "class enemy" that had popped into his mind. He simply reminisced about the fragments of time spent with the girl.

Come to think of it, he had indeed fallen gravely ill a few years ago, losing most of his memories from before the age of eleven.

But in the earliest memories he had of her, her behavior—much like a bristling, puffed-up kitten—had left a deep impression on him.

Perhaps Yulia’s temperament when she was healthy was indeed vastly different from how it became after her powers awakened. After all, no matter how playful a girl might be, when she is plagued by a sickly body, she naturally tends toward a quiet and delicate nature. But then again, to have beaten them all up... perhaps young Yulia had an unexpectedly strong personality—subconsciously, the youth dismissed the negative term "violent tendencies."

"My Yulia is the best." Clearly, the father laughing awkwardly at the table shared the same complicated feelings.

"But then again, Yulia, the way you handled that was a bit too blunt and crude." Enid stirred her milkshake, her smile as gentle as ever. "When dealing with those little boys, you should win some over and suppress others, like dangling a bone in front of a puppy, so they serve you willingly."

"Ahem." This time, it was the father at the head of the table who coughed.

Determined not to let the conversation continue in such a dangerous direction, the man used the authority and prestige of a family head to steer the topic elsewhere. "Hmm... Yulia, do you have any friends at school you get along with?"

"None." The answer was concise and to the point.

"Friends are not optional; people without friends at school are often ostracized," the silver-haired beauty shook her head. "Same-sex friends can enhance your influence at school, while opposite-sex friends are often more reliable than same-sex ones, and they can create the illusion that you are popular."

"Your mother is right," Leo Ulysses rested his chin on his interlocked hands. "Although I don't really want you getting too close to those wet-behind-the-ears brats, friends are an essential seasoning in life. If a person has no friends, they are as bland as steak without tomato sauce, red wine, cumin, or black pepper. Wait? My dear, what did you just say... an illusion?"

"The illusion of popularity," Enid replied calmly. "Since you don't think much of them, and you don't want to be isolated by them, then dominate them. Make them fear you, revere you, and become your servants."

"I get the feeling you have experience in very subtle areas," Leo said, his tone nuanced.

"Well, in the past, I wanted to follow in my brother's footsteps and become the queen who ruled all of Hermetica. I certainly went through a lot at school, and it seems I did cause a bit of a shadow for little Edgar." As if recalling something funny, her smile blossomed like a flower in a bright spring. "If I hadn't met you, I might have lost myself in the abyss of power sooner or later—so, thank you, my dear."

"Meeting you was my good fortune as well, Enid."

The previously chilly atmosphere melted away at this moment. Their gazes met, and each saw their own reflection in the other’s eyes.

"So envious." Little Yulia rested her chin on her hand, watching her parents.

"Nothing to be envious of," the man, as head of the family, smiled. "When Yulia grows up, she will also find her own other half and produce a little Yulia—though, you’ll have to make sure that brat who brings you home is prepared to be killed by me."

A sinister smile appeared on his face once more.

"So Yulia, don't be so antisocial," Enid stuck out her tongue playfully. "Don't learn everything from your father; if you're that violent, no one will want you."

"Mind your own business." Little Yulia muttered, continuing her struggle with the steak.

"I don't mind if you don't want me to," the mother narrowed her eyes, revealing a smile as cunning as a fox. "It just so happens that there are too few people in this house. How about adding a little brother or sister for you?"

"Children," the girl, who was almost a carbon copy of her mother, put down her dinner knife, raised a delicate eyebrow, and said word for word, "are troublesome."

"However, one more daughter would be quite nice."

Amy ignored the remark from the seasoned "daughter-obsessed" father across the table. It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with the prospect of having a younger sister; it was just that... he had finally discovered the discordance he had been consciously or unconsciously ignoring, and there was... more than one.

First, there was the color.

This world was a clumsy painting based on black and white tones. Although one could distinguish slight differences in color based on the depth and saturation of the ink, compared to the vibrant, colorful real world, it was like a mass of moving ink blots, devoid of any aesthetic appeal.

Yet, Yulia, her parents, and even the entire house were completely different from the outside world.

Although the scene had a yellowish, aged hue, as if viewed through old film, there was no doubt that their existence was real. Whether in appearance or personality, they restored the warm, laughter-filled home of his memories to the greatest extent possible.

Why did such a change occur? He wasn't entirely sure, but he surmised it had to do with him. Perhaps the longing in his heart provided an additional source of power for this illusion, or perhaps his arrival had completed a missing piece of the puzzle, allowing a certain mechanism of the illusion to function... In any case, it must be closely related to the status this memory held in his heart.

But that was only one thing. Besides the color, there was another quite conspicuous discordance.

That was his own appearance.

After arriving in this dream-like world, he had first been physically exhausted and fell asleep on a bench in the street. Later, on his way to the Temple of Hephaestus, he had accidentally traveled through time and space, and upon the changing of scenes, he had arrived at Hamilton Avenue, returning home under the instinctual pull of his body to be by the side of Yulia and his parents.

Therefore, he had overlooked a problem.

That was his appearance—

He was no longer the youth who could barely be described as handsome, but rather... a smaller child, a ten or eleven-year-old.

His body had shrunk, along with his clothes.

Was he projecting himself into this illusion? If that were the case, it wouldn't make sense.

After all, if he were projecting, he should be in the role of Yulia's brother. There would be no phenomenon of being unable to touch others like air, and a four-person family lacking him would never be able to unfold such a perfectly connected conversation that left no room for a fourth person to intervene.

The doubts were numerous.

There was no room for his existence in this family of three.

Perhaps because this was inherently a crudely made illusion, or it could not be ruled out that this specific point in time was exactly when the major illness that almost killed him had broken out. It might even be that he was only manifesting in the form he had at this time in the illusion, without displacing his own existence in this world—somewhere he didn't know, perhaps there was another Amy Ulysses, a younger Amy Ulysses, living his life reasonably.

But regardless of the specific reason, he had become the redundant one, the one who did not exist.

The feeling was subtle—subtly bitter, subtly sour, and subtly filled with reluctance. Yet, even so, he was still happy, still thrilled. Because even if it were an illusion, it was a recreation of a scene from the past, a beautiful time that had quietly slipped through his fingers and could never return.

So, he only needed to smile.

With mixed emotions, the youth, from the perspective of a third party, revisited this dream of the past.

Then, he turned.

And left.

Since it was a dream, it would eventually come to an end. Rather than clinging to an illusory past, it was better to cast his gaze toward the future.

His father and mother were missing.

His sister Yulia had chosen her own path.

The once-complete family was shattered like a mirror dropped to the ground, but... so what?

People cannot stop their footsteps forever.

In the end, one can only move forward.

The young Glorified did not intend to linger in the dreams of the past, so... it was time to leave.

—He had never forgotten.

Outside of this illusion, there was still a Hermetica waiting for him to save it.

He was Amy Ulysses.

And more importantly, the High Priest of Hermetica.

He wanted to save Yulia from the darkness atop the Supreme Tower.

And even more, he wanted to dispel the darkness of all of Hermetica.

—Therefore, no matter what, he could not stop his footsteps.

—Therefore, no matter what, he had to move forward.

This was the determination of Amy Ulysses—a determination that was neither lofty nor profound.