Chapter Text
Citlali exhaled heavily, snapping her book shut with a decisive thud. Her pulse quickened as she stared at the empty space in the room, her thoughts a whirlwind of hesitation. Was she ready for this? Entering Lyney’s dream wasn’t like confronting him in the waking world. Dreams were chaotic, personal, and unpredictable.
Xilonen asked her to confront him in private, just to see how he reacts to the information. The equation should be simple. Surprised or defensive? He's hiding something. Unbothered? He's probably not doing anything conspicuous. Anything else? Citlali could figure it out from there.
The image of Arlecchino flashed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. Her hand reflexively clenched at her side. No, she wouldn’t let herself be afraid. Not now. Taking a steadying breath, Citlali stepped into the center of the room, her movements deliberate as she prepared herself for what was to come.
This wasn’t going to be easy. Unlike the controlled environment of a pocket dimension, this was Lyney’s domain. His subconscious ruled here, not hers. He could shove her out if he wanted to—or worse, twist the dream to block her completely. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. She couldn’t risk confronting him in the real world again, not yet.
Bringing her hands together, she focused her cryo energy, the air around her growing sharp and cold. The words of an ancient incantation slipped from her lips, precise and commanding:
“Mira la mente de quien deseo,
¡Entra en los paisajes oníricos,
protegidos de los espíritus!”
The icy power swirled around her, encasing her in its embrace. As the final word echoed, her surroundings blurred and faded, dissolving into the eerie, shifting landscape of Lyney’s dream.
Or at least she thought it would be a dream.
The moment Citlali entered Lyney's nightmare, an oppressive darkness enveloped her. A tightrope stretched across an abyss, and on it, Lyney stood, gripping a long balancing pole, his every movement measured and precise. But his expression was anything but confident. His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes flickering nervously as he focused on staying upright. The world around him was chaotic, a swirl of faceless figures and shadowed shapes moving in the void.
Citlali noticed them immediately—Arlecchino was sitting in the front, her legs crossed. The other figures gathered around were equally unsettling, their faces blank and obscured. Citlali saw some figures that she definitely should not recognize. Citlali assumed it was because she was in an unfamiliar nightmare, she was a separate presence, so she was adapted to have the same memories as the host; Lyney. Citlali spotted a few more familiar silhouettes in the crowd: Furina, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, all watching with distant, indifferent expressions. Their comments were cold, dismissive.
“Underwhelming.”
“Could be better.”
"Not impressive.”
The words hit like jabs, but Lyney didn’t flinch. He was doing everything he could to keep his balance, his feet trembling slightly as they hovered over the abyss. His hands gripped the balancing pole, knuckles turning white with the strain. Yet, his expression betrayed his fear—a fear of falling, of failing. Of being seen for the weak and unworthy person he believed he was.
"Move forward, Lyney," Arlecchino’s voice broke through the swirling fog of doubt. Her voice was smooth and commanding, colder than the empty space around them. "You have no choice. Show them you can do it. Or you’ll be discarded. You’ll fall, and nobody will care."
Her words cut through him, making his body tense even further. He shifted on the tightrope, trying to keep his focus, but the pressure was mounting.
Citlali stepped forward, her voice ringing out sharply across the vast expanse. "Lyney!"
His head jerked slightly, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. Instead, he continued walking, each step measured but shaky. His lips pressed into a thin line as if he were trying to drown out the world around him.
"Lyney!" Citlali demanded, her voice sharp with growing frustration. "I need to speak with you!"
But Lyney’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his mind caught in the nightmarish fog of his own insecurities. The faceless crowd below didn’t help; their eyes were just empty voids, watching but not seeing. Yet the words of the people that mattered, like Furina and Neuvillette, echoed in his ears, intensifying the pressure.
“Overrated.”
“Too Cocky.”
“Not enough.”
The comment was repeated by the crowd.
“Not enough. Do Better. Not enough. Not enough”
It was mentally exhausting.
Arlecchino’s voice sliced through the air again. “You’ll never be enough. Keep moving, or you will fall. You were born to succeed. That is your destiny. I will never allow a failure.”
Lyney’s hands tightened around the pole. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. His breath was shallow, his heart racing. The words felt like they were suffocating him. He forced himself to take another step forward.
But Citlali wouldn’t let him ignore her any longer. She snapped, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. “You think this is going to break you? It will break you if you keep running from the truth.”
She stepped forward again, this time with more force, but still, Lyney didn’t respond. His focus remained fixed on the tightrope beneath his feet, his every move calculated, terrified of messing up.
Citlali’s fists clenched at her sides. She couldn’t keep pretending. She didn’t know what he wanted, but this wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t the charming, overconfident magician she had always seen—this was a broken child clinging to a rope of fake pride and insecurity.
“Lyney!” she shouted again, this time almost pleading. “Stop hiding. You’re not fooling anyone!”
Still, Lyney didn’t answer. The words of Arlecchino were louder now, suffocating him.
“If you can’t survive this, what makes you think you will ever be good enough to run the house?” Arlecchino said softly, her eyes burning with disdain.
Xilonens sharp voice cut through. “You don’t belong. Not here. Not anywhere. He’ll see you for what you really are.”
Citlali couldn’t stand watching this any longer. The nightmare, the faceless figures, the pressure—it was too much. Lyney wasn’t looking for her to help him. He wasn’t even looking for himself. He was too caught in this cycle of self-doubt.
She stepped back, dropping her vision and returning to the real world.
Citlali stumbled backward, eyes narrowing. She wasn’t sure whether to feel pity, anger, or just outright contempt for the man who was before her. The enemy she knew nothing about. But she knew one thing for sure—he was no longer the person she thought he was.