Dream Unmask 소설 & 이야기

Damien’s hand hovered over one envelope, a flicker of hesitation betraying the composed mask he always wore. “You weren’t expecting this?” Serena asked. “No,” he admitted, voice low. “Some truths arrive unannounced. And sometimes, even I can’t control them before they take root.” ⸻ Hours passed as they sifted through the correspondence, uncovering layers of intrigue and deception. Each letter revealed not only political maneuvering but glimpses of Damien’s careful orchestration of his world. Serena’s mind raced to understand it all, but her attention continually returned to him—the man behind the Alpha mask, carrying burdens that no one else could comprehend.

But not more than the possibility of Mask showing up. A part of me, shamelessly, wanted to see him. The intrigue about his face still lingered in my dreams and my eyes. What would he look like behind that mask? His gray eyes flashed before me. Taking in a troubled breath, I peered at the dreamcatcher. The circulating fluid light in the central hole of the dreamcatcher turned into ripples of light and in the next second, Kyros and Verena were thrown out of the dreamcatcher. Both of them groaned on the floor, covered in tattered clothes, filth all over their bodies.

Queenie asked fearfully, hiding behind him in a natural response to the unexpected voice. Delilah emerged wearing the mask she always wore in public. Felix quickly explained, "Don't be afraid. She's my senior apprentice." Queenie gathered her courage to look and gasped. "A-Aren't you Dreamscape?" Dreamscape was incredibly famous, and almost everyone knew about her. Moreover, her mask was so iconic that no one dared to copy it, knowing her fans would destroy any impostors. Felix shot Delilah an annoyed look before turning to Queenie. "I'm sorry. She just likes to joke around. She's not Dreamscape—she's just a fan who, sometimes, likes to wear the mask at home."

I nod and he smiles cheekily, so much like his normal self that I find myself relaxing, thankfully and I shove at his chest, gesturing to my face and clothes "But I'm not dressing up like this again, my feet are killing me." "Good." He belly laughs, dropping his arm lazily around my shoulders. "You'd be far too easy to beat at training in a skimpy dress and heels." ~*~ I wake up with a smile on my face, the feelings of love and contentment still with me after such a pleasant dream, I don't even question what my subconscious is doing by confusing Cain and Coal in my dream and putting Darius in there too, clearly I'm projecting my desire for my dream man onto his real life scary doppelganger a

I slumped back in my seat, knuckles still sore from the punch that should be termed the punch of the century. The Oakland tree was one of the hardest materials in my world… Liam Virell. Transfer student from the North. An arrogant human, who smells weird. Looks like he walked out of a forbidden romance novel and straight into my life just to piss me off. And now, thanks to him, we were both slapped with detention. No, not just us. Damon, too. The headmistress’s voice echoed in my skull like a punishment bell: > “Starting next week Monday, the three of you will serve one hour of supervised detention for your public display of violence and disruption.” <

his voice jerked me back to reality. "hmm can I get your order"I said trying to sound confident, his voice sent me to planet zecury,I don't even know if it exists. "Two pot pies and one smoothie" he said back, with his eyes fixed on me. For the first time I saw genuine admiration and not the usual look of lust I was used to.

What he says next shocks me into silence. “I had a dream last night and I was at a clearing and you were wearing a blank tank top and black tights and there was a boy with you. You were standing up on a hill and the boy was wielding a sword and cutting down all the monsters. You had your bow out and you were shooting at the monsters from above then you suddenly decide to race down the hill and attack the monsters with some throwing knives, it isn’t long until there is one left, and that is when you are thrown backwards and fall unconscious.”

I wanted to rip the mask off, to let him see the monster and the woman, and to lose myself in the heat of his embrace. But as his fingers moved toward the silk ribbons at the back of my head, a cold splash of reality hit me. I am a murderer, I reminded myself. I am an impostor in a dead girl's palace. He is a man of the South, a man of secrets. If I let him see me—truly see me—I would lose the only armor I had left. The power of my eyes was my greatest weapon, but my mask was my greatest shield. Just as his fingers brushed the knot of the ribbon, I grabbed his wrist. My grip was unnaturally strong, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal.

For years, I had endured so many forms of abuse, I had been hoping and expecting this, but finally seeing the long awaited ink on the paper felt like a heavy stone being lifted off my chest. I dunked my phone to the bed and pulled a secondary, encrypted burner phone from the hidden lining of my jewelry box that say pretty on the nightstand and typed a single sentence to a contact I hadn't messaged since the day I said "I do." "The mask is off and the coast is clear. Activate the Blackwood protocols and begin the aggressive short-sell on Thorne Group, immediately. I’m coming home to claim my seat. Afterall, it is long overdue." I looked at the bathroom door one last time. Julian thought he wa

Kindly cooperate with us for further investigations. Laura broke a carefully manicured fingernail on her finger.