The Dream-Weaver's Grave: Arai Tsuruki's Hidden Heart - The Monitor's Secret Wish

That's wrong, he thought. Something had been smoldering deep in his chest all this time. The Imperial Household Ministry's secret orders, the Usuba family's laws—none of it really mattered to him. Not in the end. Arata stood before the gate of the Kudou estate and drew a deep breath. The air of late spring carried the smell of damp earth and young leaves. The mansion stood in the upscale residential district of the imperial capital, Miyabi—the home of the Kudou family, a distinguished house that had managed wielders of supernatural power for generations. Its quiet facade of white walls and black tiles sank into the evening light. (I'm just—) He started to think it, then stopped. Peering into the depths of his own heart was always frightening. So, as always, he pasted a gentle smile onto his lips. On the surface, Arata was "Tsuruki Arata," a supernatural-power surveillance officer for the Imperial Household Ministry. He belonged to the supernatural management division, tasked with monitoring dangerous wielders—an utterly ordinary civil servant. Supernatural power was a force that dwelled in bloodlines, manifesting in only about 0.3 percent of the population. Everyone who manifested it was required by law to register with the Ministry. Arata's duty was to watch, up close, those whose powers were deemed especially dangerous. When he passed through the gate, the maid Yurie happened to be sweeping by the entrance. She looked to be past sixty—a small woman with a straight back and sharp eyes. As Arata approached, she stopped her broom and let a knowing smile spread across her wrinkled face. "Well, well, Master Tsuruki. Thank you for your hard work again today." Arata came to a halt and gave a slight bow. "Good afternoon, Yurie. I'm always in your debt." "Oh, no, no. If anything, I'm the one asking you to look after the young master's fiancée." With that, Yurie smiled that knowing smile again. Arata responded with a smile of his own, but inwardly his guard went up. This old woman was no mere servant. She had served the Kudou family for years and had known Kiyoka, the head of the house, since he was a child. Her eyes seemed to see right through to whatever lay behind Arata's smile. "How is Miyo doing?" At his question, Yurie's eyes narrowed just slightly. "Oh, she's well. Since this morning she's been preparing tea sweets because Master Tsuruki was coming. That girl, she does work so hard." There was warmth mixed into Yurie's voice. It brought Arata a sliver of relief. So Miyo was cared for in this house—at least by the servants. "I'm looking forward to it." With that, Arata headed toward the entrance. The reception room of the Kudou estate was quiet. The evening sun filtering through the paper screens cast soft shadows across the tatami. Arata was shown inside, and before long small footsteps came down the corridor. It was Miyo. Her soft black hair was loosely tied back, and she wore an unadorned robe in cherry-blossom pink. Her clear, light-brown eyes, habitually downcast, wavered just a little when they caught sight of Arata. She was small and delicately built. In her hands she carried a tray with carefully arranged tea utensils and sweets. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting." She knelt before Arata and set down the tray. Her movements were efficient—as though she had worked as a servant in this house for years—and yet somehow hesitant. "Not at all. I'm the one always in your care." Arata answered with a smile. Miyo began to move her slender white fingers quietly, preparing the tea. He stole a glance at her profile. (She's grown beautiful.) She was nothing like the girl he'd met as a child. Back then she had been thin and wasted, no light in her eyes. She had been crying alone in front of the storehouse. And yet now, her profile, lit by the setting sun, was terribly serene. "I hope it suits your taste..." Arata accepted the teacup she offered with both hands and took a sip. A gentle bitterness and a faint sweetness spread across his tongue. "It's delicious. You really are skilled at preparing tea, Miyo." At his words, Miyo's expression softened with relief. But a moment later, her face turned anxious again. "No, I'm still nowhere near... I'm sorry. This is all I can do." She bowed deeply. Arata felt something tighten in his chest at the sight. "Miyo." He called to her in the gentlest voice he could manage. "You should have more confidence in yourself. The tea you made is truly delicious. That's what I think." Miyo looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Her light-brown eyes fixed on his face. "I'm... nothing..." She shook her head slightly. Her voice held doubt and bewilderment. Behind her smile, Arata could clearly see the self-deprecation that had never faded, and the conviction that she had no worth. (How much was she trampled on, in the Saimori house?) He confirmed it once more in his mind: Miyo's mother, Sumi, was his father's younger sister—which made Miyo his cousin on his mother's side. As one who carried the Usuba blood, Miyo harbored the power of dream-weaving. Because that power was dangerous, the Ministry had sent Arata in as her surveillance officer. But Arata's true purpose was something else entirely. Once, as a child, Arata had seen Miyo in the garden of the Saimori estate. She had been crying alone in front of the storehouse—curled into a small ball, stifling her sobs. He hadn't been able to do anything then. He could only watch from a distance. (If I had reached out my hand then—) Would something have changed? That regret had been lodged deep in his chest all this time. "Miyo, would you tell me a little about your recent dreams today?" He asked gently, as though simply performing his duty as surveillance officer. Miyo hunched her shoulders slightly. "Yes... Um, lately I've been having strange dreams." Her voice trembled faintly. At her words, Arata frowned inwardly. "What kind of dreams?" "Dreams where I'm alone in a dark storehouse. No one comes, and I can't make a sound..." Gazing downward, Miyo began to speak in halting fragments. "Dreams where I think... that I'm an unwanted child." Arata felt his chest constrict. But he didn't let it show on his face. As a surveillance officer, he remained calm and detached. "I see. That's a painful dream." With his gloved hand, Arata slowly turned the teacup. When he used his illusion arts, he always had to touch the other person. These white gloves were the tool for that. But now was not yet the time to use them. "But a dream is only a dream. Please don't worry about it too much." At his words, Miyo nodded slightly, looking a little relieved. After that, they talked of trivial things for a while. When Miyo spoke of the flowers blooming in the garden, Arata nodded along and observed her expressions. The smiles she showed now and then were certainly beautiful. But behind them, something was always hidden—the anxiety that perhaps she didn't belong here. Arata slowly savored the tea sweets Miyo had made with such care. They were not too sweet, and elegant in flavor. "These sweets are wonderful. Did you make them, Miyo?" "Yes... I was worried they might not suit your taste." "No need to worry. They're truly delicious." He meant it from the heart. Miyo looked startled again, and then, just a little, she blushed shyly. That smile lit a small flame in Arata's chest. (I want to protect her.) The words welled up from somewhere deep inside him. Arata quietly tucked that feeling away in the depths of his heart. After leaving the Kudou estate, Arata returned to the small rented house the Ministry had prepared for him in the downtown of the imperial capital, Miyabi. On the surface, it was the residence of a surveillance officer posted alone. The modest room held only a desk, a futon, and writing supplies for keeping surveillance records. Arata sat at the desk and began to write his report. *"Periodic surveillance report concerning Saimori Miyo's dream-weaving power. No abnormalities in supernatural signs. Subject reports dreams, but no danger is recognized."* As his brush moved, Arata knew better than anyone that what he was writing was a lie. Miyo's dreams showed unmistakable signs of the aberrant. The dark storehouse, the words of self-denial—those were nothing but the precursors of her dream-weaving power running wild. (If I report it, Miyo will be designated dangerous.) Arata stopped his brush. A wielder designated dangerous would be placed under the Ministry's control. Depending on the case, she might be handed over to an organization like the Supernatural Heart Sect, or surrendered under the name of the Usuba family's laws. About eighty years ago, there had been an incident called the Great Dream Incident. A dream-weaver had run wild, and hundreds of people in the imperial capital had experienced mass hallucinations. Ever since, the power of dream-weaving had been strictly monitored as a dangerous force that threatened the Emperor's position. If Miyo's power became public, her life would once again be made into someone else's tool. Arata exhaled deeply. (I will protect her.) Even if these hands were stained. Even if it meant betraying the Ministry. Arata quietly stared at the words "no abnormalities" on the surveillance record. Just then, there came a knock at his door. Arata set down his brush and stood. When he opened the door, a messenger from the Ministry stood there. "Master Tsuruki Arata, an urgent notice." Expressionless, the messenger held out a letter. Arata took it and broke the seal. *"A wave of dream-weaving power has been detected. Investigate immediately. Signs that the aberrant has begun to appear in Saimori Miyo's dreams. If left unchecked, there is a danger it will affect the physical world."* Arata gripped the letter. His fingertips trembled faintly. (They've already noticed.) Without waiting for Arata's report, the Ministry had independently sensed Miyo's anomaly. Delaying the report was no longer an option. Arata told the messenger only, "Understood," and closed the door. A heavy silence fell over the room. Arata leaned against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. (What do I do?) Thoughts churned in his head. Delay the report—or take some other measure? Arata stared at his gloved hand. With this hand, if he used his illusion arts, he could interfere with Miyo's dreams. He could suppress the aberrant within her dream with illusions—or else— (I'll enter her dream myself.) The thought surprised even him. The power of dream-weaving was the power to invade another's dreams. Arata's illusion arts were also a power to show the other's senses phantoms. The principles were similar. With his illusions, he might be able to enter Miyo's dream. But it was a dangerous gamble. The aberrant in the dream was something nesting in Miyo's deep consciousness. There was no guarantee his illusions would work. (Even so.) Arata steeled his resolve. When dusk had passed and the curtain of night had fallen, Arata visited the Kudou estate once more—telling himself it was to fulfill his duties as surveillance officer. The corridors of the Kudou estate were quiet. The servants had already withdrawn to their rooms. Arata tried to head toward Miyo's room, killing his footsteps. Then he sensed a cold presence approaching from the far end of the corridor. Arata stopped. From the darkness, a tall man appeared. A beautiful man with long black hair tied back with a braided cord Miyo had woven. His silver-gray eyes, harboring a cold light, pierced through Arata. It was Kudou Kiyoka. "Tsuruki Arata... Why does a Ministry surveillance officer involve himself so intimately with Miyo?" Kiyoka's voice was low and restrained. But beneath it was unmistakable anger. Arata kept his smile fixed. "Ah, Master Kiyoka. I'm merely performing my duties as surveillance officer." "I can see right through that smile." Kiyoka

日本語

What is Novelia? →

Episode 1

Name: The Dream-Weaver's Grave: Arai Tsuruki's Hidden Heart
Author: Novelia

What is Novelia?

Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.

Learn more about Novelia →New sign-ups get 5,000pt