Chapter 7: The Invasion of the Vision

“Good day.”
He spoke gently, but you couldn’t understand a word.
Perhaps he was a tourist from abroad...?
You blinked and said “sorry” in English, trying to wave down a waiter for help.
But he stopped your gesture and handed you a neatly wrapped small box.
Puzzled, you took it and hesitantly opened it as he indicated.
Inside was a beautiful pair of headphones, pure white, with a blue rose design on the back.
...Is he trying to sell headphones?
You shot him a look that said it all, snapped the box shut, and decided to return it, attempting to explain in English that you didn’t need the product.
What kind of tactic was this, approaching a foreigner who couldn’t understand the language? You were baffled.
He seemed to guess your thoughts and, stumbling slightly over the local language, pronounced your name, then put on an identical pair of headphones himself.
...?
He knew you?
You grew even more confused.
At his insistence, you put on the headphones. Instantly, his words were translated directly into your ears.
“Can you understand now?”
You nodded in shock.
His expression relaxed, a satisfied and reverent look as if he were in the presence of a deity.
“Michel Caesar, that is my name.”
“I am your Sentinel.”
“These headphones are a gift for you.”
The young man calling himself Caesar spoke three sentences in quick succession. Though translated, you still felt as if you barely understood what he meant.

...Sentinel? A foreigner? Had you somehow been matched with him? How could you not know?
And why did his tone suddenly sound so sticky... was that a translation effect...?
Right, did Sae Itoshi know about this?
You furrowed your brow, inexplicably thinking of him immediately.
“Uh, sorry? I haven’t received any notification.”
You wanted to return the hot potato headphones, but if you took them off, you both would be reduced to mute gestures.
“I have to leave now; if there’s any news, we’ll be in touch...?”
After saying this official-sounding line, you stood to leave, but Caesar grabbed your wrist.
His grip was strong, and the black crown of thorns tattooed on the back of his hand seemed almost tangible as it coiled around you. Beneath his loose sweater was the powerful physique of a Sentinel; through the fabric, you faintly sensed fluctuations in his spiritual energy.
“But I need mental support right now.” He began to show vulnerability, the redness at the corners of his eyes intensifying the plea. “Can you help me?”
The waves of spiritual energy didn’t seem feigned.
You hesitated a moment. “Shall we go somewhere else?”
The book advised against conducting mental support in crowded places.
“Sure.” He stood as well, his flamboyant smile making you feel a bit tricked. “Where shall we go?”

*

In the end, you went to the rooftop garden.
Few people were there; the spacious environment seemed just right. You casually found a spot and began the mental support.
Covering the crown tattoo on his hand, you closed your eyes and let your spiritual energy enter his mental pathway.
Maybe your compatibility with him was really that high, or perhaps your studies had improved dramatically over the past week—your spiritual energy extended smoothly, purifying the path until it reached the very end with power to spare. Something in your mind seemed to guide you forward, and you effortlessly entered his mental landscape.
By the time you realized it, it was too late.
An endless sea of blue roses stretched before your eyes, their fragrance and the breeze stimulating your senses.
Though your eyes were closed, it felt like entering a virtual reality; the sensation was unfamiliar, and you could hardly tell if it was real sight or an illusion.

Within the Sentinel’s mental landscape, a grand, dreamlike scene unfolded, and you felt as if you were walking inside it.
Inexperienced as you were, you became somewhat dazed.
Wandering aimlessly, a finely crafted red velvet throne suddenly appeared in the center of your vision.
You approached and touched the heavy armrest. The real texture deepened your confusion. Circling it, you tried sitting down.
The surrounding rose sea seemed to pause as dense thorns sprouted rapidly from the base of the throne, climbing upward.
The throne was sinking.
Panicked at the thought of being swallowed, your frightened consciousness tried desperately to escape—
The spiritual connection was forcibly severed. You snapped your eyes open, gasping for breath.
Caesar’s forehead rested lightly against your clasped hands; you couldn’t see his expression clearly. Only his shoulders trembled slightly, as if he too was gasping.
You had no idea what had happened in the vision—was he trying to play a trick on you?
Angrily, you tried to pull your hand away, but he gripped it tightly.
Caesar slowly lifted his head, his pale face flushed unnaturally red.
“Looks like you really haven’t practiced long...”
To think you had just entered his mental landscape so directly.
Wait—if your first mental support session reached this level, didn’t that prove even more that you were a perfect match?
Caesar thought this made perfect sense and, in an instant, had already imagined where your Sentinel coupling ceremony might be held.
After a moment’s calm, his cobalt eyes fixed on you, burning with intensity.
“I can teach you things not written in the guidebook...”
For example, Sentinel separation anxiety.