Chapter 1233: Light in the Dream

Chapter 1233 -49: Light in the Dream

The blazing sunlight poured down from overhead; even when he raised a hand to shield his eyes, his retinas still felt stabbed and sore.

It was as if he had stayed too long in the dim, gray United Kingdom, and could no longer adapt to such intense sunlight.

Vid squinted and looked around.

In the glaring sun, everything seemed shrouded in a layer of scattered light, hazy and dreamlike.

The air was thick with rich, complicated smells: the cloying sweetness of overripe fruit, the acrid bite of burning diesel, and a salty fishiness borne on the sea breeze.

The overly saturated mingling of scents made him frown in discomfort; he turned his head instinctively, searching the surroundings.

He remembered coming here on a trip with his companions… Where were they?

A girl in a sari walked toward him, holding two drinks that were steaming cold, a sweet smile blooming on her face.

On the long silk cloth, lotus blossoms embroidered in gold thread swayed with elegant grace.

Vid couldn’t help but smile back and moved quickly toward her.

That was his girl, the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with…

Sweat slid down from his forehead; he couldn’t help ducking his head to wipe it away, feeling as if the humid air here was so thick you could squeeze water out of it.

When he raised his head again, a flash of light caught his attention.

He turned to look and saw, beneath the tall hotel, two crows fighting over a piece of reflective candy wrapper.

Farther away, on the clock tower, the minute hand slowly moved one notch forward, just forming a right angle of ninety degrees with the hour hand.

The drink vendor was counting crumpled banknotes; suddenly, as if he heard something, he looked up, fear spreading over his face.

The girl’s drink slipped from her hand. Her mouth fell open as she stared past Vid’s shoulder, her expression dull and vacant.

A dense surge of bewilderment and foreboding rose in Vid’s heart.

He turned around on instinct, only to see a blue truck suddenly accelerate, bursting through the roadblock and ramming straight into the off-white building ahead.

…An attack?

The thought had barely flashed through Vid’s mind when a sheet of white light exploded from the body of the truck, tearing his world apart.

BOOM——!!!

A soundless roar detonated by his ears.

The white light twisted, swelled, becoming a sun that had appeared out of thin air, devouring everything in front of him.

He watched helplessly as the glass windows of the white building shuddered and shattered, as water pipes emitted terrible wails, as concrete burst open, and all kinds of debris and rubble mixed with torn limbs and broken bodies rained down.

His viewpoint was suddenly yanked upward by some invisible force.

He saw drab hats spinning through the air; he saw a sunshade, reduced to a charred skeleton, pierce straight through someone’s chest; he saw burning sheets of paper flipping past his eyes as they drifted.

On the yellowed page, someone had childishly copied over and over:

“Today is a beautiful day.”

“Today is a beautiful day.”

“Today is a beautiful day…”

…

Vid jerked upright; cold sweat had soaked through his pajamas.

“Huh… huh… huh…”

In the darkness of the bedroom, only his harsh gulps of air could be heard. Warm air streamed into his lungs, and he seemed to smell again that strange scent from the dream—

A peculiar, sickly sweet stench, laced with the smell of fat and protein being violently burned.

Vid bent over the side of the bed, retching uncontrollably twice. Nothing came up; only the acid in his stomach burned his esophagus.

The next second, the room snapped on with a “pa” of light.

Dobby suddenly appeared in the bedroom, wearing a brightly colored set of pajamas. It grabbed Vid’s arm in worry, asking over and over:

“Is Mr. Riddle sick? Is he feeling very bad? Dobby will go call Mr. Old Gray and Madam Grey right away!”

“No, no need.”

Vid forced down another wave of nausea and coughed twice, feeling as though those billowing clouds of smoke and rising dust were still lodged in his windpipe.

He pushed himself upright, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his voice horribly hoarse:

“I’m fine, Dobby… I just… had a nightmare… a really terrible nightmare.”

Dobby stared at his abnormally pale face. With a soft “pa,” it vanished from the room, then quickly reappeared, cradling a steaming cup in its hands with extreme care.

“Have some hot chocolate, Mr. Riddle… Chocolate always helps ease awful feelings.”

The instant Vid smelled that sweetness, the urge to vomit surged back up; he hurriedly waved his hand.

“Just give me a cup of hot water.”

Without another word, Dobby disappeared and reappeared in the blink of an eye, this time with a cup filled to the brim with clear hot water.

Vid took the cup and slowly drank a few sips.

The water slid down his parched throat, easing that purely physical nausea just a little.

Meanwhile, the Bell in the wardrobe space jingled a few times. Dobby ran over and soon returned, carrying a bottle of Sedative, which it offered to Vid with both hands.

Vid let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “It was just a nightmare; it’s not like I ran into a Dementor. I don’t need to drink Magic Potion for that.”

“But Mr. Riddle is suffering so much. Dobby has never seen him suffer like this.”

Dobby was still standing off to the side, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, worry practically overflowing from his gaze.

He pleaded in a tone of supplication: “Drink a little, Mr. Riddle, just a little bit…”

Seeing how worried Dobby was, Vid didn’t refuse again. He took the Crystal Bottle, pulled out the cork, and drained the liquid inside in one swallow.

A warm, reassuring feeling rose slowly from deep within, dispersing the chill the dream had left behind.

He felt as if he were soaking in water at just the right temperature; at some point his taut muscles loosened, and his thunderous heartbeat slowed its tempo, tapping against his chest with just the right weight.

Vid exhaled a long breath, set down the Crystal Bottle, lay back on the bed, and pulled the covers up to his chin.

“Thank you, Dobby. I feel much better.”

He said gently, “I’ll sleep a little more. You should rest too. It’s almost dawn.”

Dobby studied his complexion one more time, then finally nodded reluctantly and disappeared from the air with a soft “pa.”

The room fell silent again, with only Vid’s own breathing.

Outside the window, a bluish gray light was beginning to spread, and occasionally birds chirped noisily.

Vid stared at the familiar patterns on the ceiling and thought of the crows fighting over the candy wrapper in his dream.

Was it really… just a nightmare?

Or was it a premonition?

Or… had he accidentally borrowed someone else’s eyes and “seen” something happening somewhere?

But…

Where was that place?

Who were those people…?

If that incident had nothing to do with him, then why had he dreamed it?

Everything in the dream had been hazy and chaotic. He hadn’t seen any writing with an address on it—only the distant clock tower had given him a specific time.

Vid sketched the clock face from the dream in his mind, silently reciting:

“Ten forty-five…”

And those fragments of information—the sari, the vendor, the white building, the blue truck…

Vid pressed a hand over his eyes. Darkness and pressure weighed down on his eyelids, and he seemed to see again the way his vision had suddenly been completely filled by that burst of white light.