Celeste was trapped in a deep and chaotic dream.
In the dream, she seemed to have reverted to that small, timid little girl again, back to the gray years of her childhood—years marked by isolation and invisible bullying.
At that time, her father had just cruelly abandoned her and her mother.
Her mother, unable to bear the immense blow, threw all her energy into exhausting work, trying to numb herself with busyness, but in doing so, she neglected the young daughter who desperately needed love and companionship.
And little Celeste, having inherited her mother’s exceptional beauty and an early-emerging magical talent, naturally attracted the envy of her peers.
After her family changed, the lingering melancholy and silence she carried became the perfect excuse for exclusion.
In the dream, those blurred faces circled around her.
The words were inaudible, but the pervasive cold malice could be felt clearly.
They never spoke to her, silently dispersing when she approached, turning their backs on her; during group activities, she was always left as the last one standing; anonymous notes appeared in her Storage Locker, scrawled with insults like “Daddy-less kid” and “Pretentious”; when she summoned the courage to answer the teacher’s questions, deliberate hushed laughter echoed from the desks below…
These were not physical blows, but far more painful verbal and social isolations—silent abuses.
They were like countless fine needles, piercing the fragile heart of the little girl without a sound, making her feel like an unwelcome outcast.
This was the darkest and most helpless period of Celeste’s life, when even the sunlight seemed to lose its warmth.
The dream focused clearly on that day.
Little Celeste entered the classroom and found her desk covered with ugly graffiti painted in stubborn Magic Paint that was impossible to erase—crooked letters spelling “Go away,” “Hateful,” along with simple symbols of isolation and curses.
She fought back the tears threatening to spill, stubbornly refusing to cry.
She took out the handkerchief she always carried, dampened it with some water, and began scrubbing hard at the glaring graffiti.
But the paint seemed to have a simple Solidification Spell cast on it; no matter how hard she tried, the color only blurred but could never be fully removed, leaving the desk in a messy state.
For a moment, frustration and grievance nearly overwhelmed her.
At that moment, a delicate, fair hand holding a clean, faintly scented damp handkerchief appeared in her sight, silently starting to help clean the desk.
Celeste froze, surprised, looking up to find a girl with beautiful long black hair she had never seen before.
The girl smiled at her, her clear eyes free of pity or curiosity, only gentle understanding.
“My name is Olivia. I’m the new transfer student.”
The black-haired girl’s voice was crisp and pleasant as she looked at Celeste, her smile warm.
“It seems we’re both the ‘leftovers,’ huh? Two people isolated together, then… let’s get along well from now on~”
Olivia’s arrival was like a ray of light tearing through thick dark clouds, suddenly illuminating the coldest and darkest part of Celeste’s childhood.
She brought companionship, a listening ear, and a tiny courage to stand against the whole world.
As time passed, Celeste’s mother gradually emerged from her grief, realizing how she had failed her daughter, and began pouring all her love and care into Celeste.
With family support and Olivia’s company, Celeste grew up, shedding her childhood timidity to become confident, beautiful, and strong.
She was no longer the little girl who could be bullied at will.
People might fear her power, envy her appearance, and covet her talent, but they could no longer destroy her with those childish attacks.
However, just as everything seemed to be heading toward beauty and light, just as Celeste thought she had finally grasped happiness…
Olivia disappeared completely and without warning from her world.
Celeste knew it was all because of her fault, all her fault, that Olivia…
The scene abruptly shifted.
Celeste woke up with a start, her heart pounding wildly like a drum.
She was drenched in cold sweat, the thin pajamas clinging to her skin, sending a chill through her.
She had just experienced a very familiar yet unbearably painful dream—about Olivia.
Her once best friend.
Celeste sat on her bed, clutching her collar tightly, gasping for breath, trying to calm the heartbeat that threatened to burst from her chest.
Why… why did she suddenly dream of Olivia?
That was the memory she had buried deepest, the one she most wanted to forget completely…
Could it be… because earlier today, at the street corner, she really saw Olivia’s silhouette?
That wasn’t a hallucination?
Why?
Why did Olivia’s shadow suddenly appear before her?
A terrifying thought uncontrollably surfaced.
Was Olivia coming to hold her accountable?
Was she finally going to face Judgement for her past mistakes?
Celeste painfully covered her face, icy tears flooding uncontrollably through her fingers like a broken dam.
She curled up, burying her face deep into her knees, her shoulders trembling violently from suppressed sobs.
She murmured incessantly, her voice filled with endless regret and pleading.
“Olivia… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… It’s all my fault… I’m really sorry…”
She pounded her forehead hard, as if trying to punish herself with pain to dispel the gnawing guilt.
At that moment, a voice familiar enough to make Celeste’s soul tremble echoed softly from the darkest corner of the silent room:
“Celeste… you seem to be living quite well now~”
The voice was gentle, tinged with a fleeting smile, yet it pierced Celeste’s psychological defenses like an icy dagger.
Horrified, Celeste raised her head sharply, and through tear-blurred eyes, she actually saw a blurry black shadow slowly writhing and coalescing in the darkest corner of the room.
The shadow stretched and morphed, eventually sketching out a silhouette etched into her soul—although the details were hazy, as if behind a veil of mist, Celeste instantly recognized it as her childhood best friend, Olivia.
“Celeste… it’s way too cunning of you to have happiness all to yourself…”
The Phantom of Olivia floated weightlessly closer, its voice still sickly sweet and unsettling.
“No, no!”
Celeste shook her head frantically, tears dropping onto the sheets, incoherently defending herself with a sobbing voice.
“It’s not what you think! I’m sorry… Olivia… I’m really sorry…”
“We promised… to disappear together… but you went on living alone… and you became so happy… you made new friends… even found someone you like…”
The Phantom of Olivia didn’t seem to accept her apology.
It floated lightly to the edge of Celeste’s bed, almost pressing against her face.
From that blurry expression, an icy gaze seemed to pierce through her.
Then, its voice suddenly sharpened.
“That’s… just… so unfair!”
Staring at the nightmare-like phantom so close, Celeste completely broke down.
She let out a stifled whimper, suddenly yanking the blanket over herself, wrapping up tightly from head to toe, curling into the farthest corner of the bed, as if hiding like this could ward off the dreadful apparition and escape the cruel reality.
The Phantom of Olivia watched Celeste hide herself, the blurry corners of its lips slowly curling into an extremely strange and chilling arc.
It whispered like a curse:
“Celeste… soon… I will come to find you… to help you fulfill… our unfinished Promise…”
Then, that suffocating sense of pressure abruptly vanished.
Trembling, Celeste cautiously lifted a corner of the blanket.
The room was empty and silent, as if everything had been a hallucination born of her overwhelming fear.
The Phantom of Olivia was nowhere to be found.
But those cold words were branded deep into her mind.
Celeste curled up alone on the cold bed, her body trembling uncontrollably.
She felt truly uneasy, terrified, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of fear.
Amid the boundless panic and despair, an image of a black-haired young man involuntarily surfaced in her mind—the only person she could think of relying on at this moment.
“Student Ai Ting… save me…”