Chapter 6: The Tangled DNA
Sunday appeared in Rachel’s chat list.
He said he would find a suitable teacher for Rachel—however, with the Harmony Festival approaching, both he and the other tuning artisans were busy, and it would be difficult to spare anyone in the short term.
But with less than a month left until the festival, once it concluded, he promised that if no suitable teacher had been found for Rachel, Sunday himself would be more than willing to attempt teaching her.
Rachel had no objections. A month was nothing; she had waited before. Besides, she felt that if Sunday were to teach her, apart from that notoriously hard-to-assess “YMCA,” his instruction might surpass that of any other teacher.
After all, he was the elder brother of Robin. Miss Robin’s musical talent and the distance she had traveled along the Path of Harmony were achievements widely admired and envied, utterly beyond reach. Her brother could not be any less.
On the other hand, Sunday was said to have a pleasant temperament, the kind that wouldn’t be riled by fools. Rachel was absolutely confident in her ordinary studies, but when it came to matters involving the Path—another dimension altogether—she wasn’t so sure.
Just in case.
A gentle teacher was far preferable to one who was harsh and impatient. Her hometown’s educational system oversight was practically nonexistent during her childhood, leading her to encounter a teacher who loved drinking and, once intoxicated, would curse, even physically punish students. Worse, his teaching skills were mediocre; his scolding and corporal punishment seemed arbitrary, meted out to anyone who displeased him, without rhyme or reason.
At that time, she could only afford that school, and if she didn’t attend, she would lose access to the government’s free breakfasts and lunches—so Rachel spent four whole years under the shadow of that “childhood nightmare.”
Tsk...
Rachel shook off those memories and refocused on the caramel pudding cupcake before her.
In any case, at least now she was steadily approaching the good days she dreamed of. And the caramel pudding cupcake was truly delicious.
*
As the Harmony Festival drew nearer, the entire Pinoccone Dreamworld was imbued with a festive atmosphere. Schools and the Dreamweavers’ guild alike found their attention wavering.
This was a once-per-Amber Era event, and this time, the festival was open to external invitations, welcoming forces from various Paths to participate. Its scale was unprecedented, perhaps even historic.
Anna took Rachel to the Golden Hour—not a construction site like the Dream Frontier, but a genuinely prime, expensive locale filled with luxury shops and places for esteemed guests to enjoy.
Rachel was puzzled. “Why are we going there during work hours? According to the schedule… the group should be finalizing the exterior wall designs today, and I’m supposed to assist you and write a study report based on your design style.”
She was earnest about her studies, often making detailed schedules and adhering strictly to them. Without such self-discipline and planning, Rachel doubted she would have been accepted into Origami University, the prestigious interstellar institution.
Anna patted her hand. “We’re Dreamweavers, dear, not civil engineers.”
Rachel silently groused. She didn’t see much difference between the two professions—just dusty work versus cyber-dusty work. She knew many students from Origami University’s Dreamweaver College who couldn’t stay in Pinoccone and continued their studies on company-owned planets before joining the company, working alongside city-builders to wield the Amber King’s mighty hammer throughout the cosmos…
Yes, dusty work.
Anna explained, “As Dreamweavers, our job is to manipulate memory substances, making them move at will. But most importantly, we create aesthetic innovations. So we need artistic inspiration far more than any civil engineer. That means we must get out more, explore, and gain experiences. The broader our horizons, the better Dreamweavers we become.”
“So,” she took Rachel’s hand, “you must come with me to see it all—witness the starkly different auras of guests from diverse regions and Paths. They’re the best inspiration sources. If you can strike up a conversation with one for just a system cycle, you’ll gain a full suite of creative ideas.”
Anna’s words were too tempting. Rachel pondered deeply before admitting the allure of such inspiration. She agreed and, upon arriving at the Golden Hour’s vast station connecting different times, saw a golden meteor growing larger in the sky.
Anna said, “That’s a newcomer. First-timers enter the dreamworld like this—but wow, that fall was fast!”
Before she finished, the golden meteor had grown large enough for Rachel to see the face: a tall woman with long hair, yet surprisingly youthful, gray locks, a gray-black long coat, limbs flailing wildly like a beginner struggling to dog paddle.
The next moment, she crashed hard onto the ground, practically headbutting it.
Anna excitedly pulled out her phone to capture the final frame, though Rachel sensed she was slightly disappointed by her slow reaction—she could have recorded a video.
“See that?” Anna didn’t put away her phone and turned to Rachel. “This is how we Dreamweavers gather inspiration!”
Rachel: “…”
Rachel: “Alright.”
She felt she might need to spend more time learning from these seasoned Dreamweavers. After all… the profession was quite different from what she had imagined and learned in school.
---
Anna: “What a thrilling descent—meteor, collision, shatter, and the station. Ah, I’ve got it!”
An idea sparked. She quickly recorded it in her phone’s notes and showed it to Rachel, assigning her a temporary task: “Now, you go find someone and give it a try.”
*
Anna hurried back to the Dream Frontier to realize her inspiration in design, reminding Rachel to return promptly after finding her own inspiration.
“Today’s work meal includes fried scallops and an amazing cheese and beef sandwich,” Anna enthusiastically recommended. “You can’t miss either.”
But Rachel cared more about the temporary assignment than the fantastic meal.
She actually had some talent as a Dreamweaver—her aesthetics were solid, and she had a few decent creative ideas. But acquiring inspiration quickly and translating it into design…
Rachel pinched her brow, feeling she was better suited to slowly collecting inspiration over time, piecing together her ideas bit by bit on a mood board.
Still… trying this occasionally wasn’t bad.
She wandered aimlessly through the Golden Hour’s streets—intersecting yet all seemingly valuable.
She spotted three individuals clearly not from Pinoccone.
One was a woman with long purple hair wielding a long sword.
There was a sharp but not cold aura about her. The snake bones embroidered on her sleeves, the vivid and strange colors of the flowers, and the purple flames all seemed like elements Rachel might reference—especially the very cool sword.
When they brushed past, Rachel felt nothing unusual, but moments later, once the figure had disappeared, realization struck:
Something was wrong!
The Golden Hour was noisy, bustling with tourists, Pinoccone service staff, and cheerful music. Yet just now, she had heard nothing near that woman.
In other words, her background music—or rather, the lack of any sound—was like a black hole swallowing everything, from which nothing escaped.
Rachel shivered, realizing she had just passed by someone potentially very dangerous.
She opened Sunday’s chat, typed a few words, then deleted them. Should she confess that she could hear background music? Or was her family’s dreamworld protections strong enough?
She erased the message but made a note in her memo: “Review Path basics later.”
The second and third individuals were talking when she encountered them.
One was a girl with twin tails wearing a red and white mask; the other, a youth dressed quite lavishly—both rather short.
Colorful and flashy attire was common in the dreamworld, especially in the Golden Hour.
But—
Rachel grimaced.
Two songs played alternately, trading lines like two speakers vying for her ears in a battle for dominance:
“Oh oh oh oooh—”
“We’re no strangers to love”
“Sometimes I feel you on my body”
“You know the rules and so do I”
“You make my head spin”
“A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of”
“It’s like somebody got inside me”
“You wouldn’t get this from any other guy”
“Dancing under my skin”
“I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling”
“All my people”
“Gotta make you understand”
“All my people”
“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down”
...
One was “All My People,” a gambler’s tune often heard on certain platforms.
The other was “Never Gonna Give You Up,” a chart-topper in Rachel’s past life, and surprisingly existing here too—a hit by Ace Rickley, a pop superstar from the Epsilon system, like Miss Robin.
Help...
Rachel thought expressionlessly.
Her ears were about to explode... and!
Her DNA was about to get tangled!