The Serpent of Eden (1)

“…Hey, how much longer are you gonna keep yourself locked up like this?”

A slick, writhing tentacle flipped through the comic manuscripts scattered on the floor. Dreamfiend scanned the pages with its single remaining eye.

The room was starkly simple—impossible to guess the owner’s gender or age.

White walls. Wooden floor.

Plain curtains. A neatly made bed. A bookshelf crammed with manga and novels. And a single, bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

These were the only elements in Bai Mian’s room.

Like its owner, it was clean to the point of sterility—almost pathological. The air carried the faint scent of hospital disinfectant.

“If you keep lying here doing nothing, I’ll vanish soon. You wouldn’t want that, right? That’d be no different from murder.”

Dreamfiend lifted its gaze from the pages and turned toward the corner of the room.

Bai Mian sat there in her pajamas, knees hugged to her chest, silent.

“…Leave me alone.”

After a long silence, she finally spoke. “Can’t you just go by yourself? Why drag me into this?”

“Easy for you to say. Look at me now.”

Dreamfiend gestured to its ruined form.

It was a grotesque, unrecognizable mess.

A lump of black, pulsating flesh, crawling across the floor—about the size of a fist. One eye stared from its surface. A single slimy tentacle extended from the mass, used to interact with the world.

It was that very tentacle that had just been flipping through the comic pages.

Seeing Bai Mian remained unmoved, Dreamfiend shifted to a pitiful, pleading tone.

“Please… I only have you to rely on now. Bai Mian… aren’t we friends? Don’t friends help each other?”

“…We’re not friends.”

Bai Mian shook her head, her voice dull. “I already know. You’re an aberration, aren’t you?”

At her words, Dreamfiend’s pupil twitched—perhaps the only way it could express surprise.

“I *am* an aberration. But I’m a good one.”

“Good aberration? Do you think I’m a child?”

“That’s prejudice. Haven’t you heard? Magical girls sometimes fall and become aberrations. So why can’t an aberration be good?”

“…”

Bai Mian fell silent. She lifted her head, staring blankly at the trembling mass on the floor.

When it first appeared, she’d nearly fainted from fear. But after days of living with it, the sight no longer terrified her. Now, it just looked… pitiful.

“I’ve never hurt anyone. Why are those magical girls hunting me down like this?”

Dreamfiend’s voice trembled with sorrow.

“This feeling—being hated, being bullied, even when you’ve done nothing wrong… you understand it better than anyone, don’t you, Bai Mian?”

“…”

At those words, Bai Mian remembered that day.

She saw her precious manuscripts scattered on the floor, trampled underfoot. She heard her own sobs of helplessness—and Mo Li’s mocking laughter.

At the memory, she instinctively pulled her knees tighter, curling into a smaller ball.

This small movement revealed her desperate search for safety—whether in a secure place, or in someone’s acceptance and comfort.

“I understand your pain. I feel it. That’s why I came to you. I’m here to help.”

“Help me?” Bai Mian asked, confused.

Dreamfiend pressed on, its voice sweet, hypnotic.

“Yes. Help you. Because we’re the same, Bai Mian.”

“My power is to weave dreams for humans. You’re a manga artist. We’re both creators—artists. It’s normal that we’re misunderstood by ordinary people obsessed with trivial things. But that doesn’t give them the right to torment us.”

“You *are* a talented artist. I can guarantee that.”

The tentacle lifted a page of her work.

“Look at these elegant panels. These clean lines… I can tell—this isn’t something just anyone can do. You have talent, Bai Mian. Can you really accept spending the rest of your life cowering in this corner, letting your gift rot away?”

“Talent… I don’t have anything like that,” Bai Mian whispered, shaking her head. “If I *were* talented, why would my classmates laugh at my work? That doesn’t make sense…”

“No, you’re wrong. Completely wrong.”

Dreamfiend paused, as if carefully choosing its next words.

Then, it let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“I admit… you were talented once. But now? It’s over. Ah, what a waste.”

“Over?”

Bai Mian stared at Dreamfiend, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“Yes. Over. Bai Mian, I can say with certainty—your career as a manga artist is finished. You’ll never create anything great again.”

“W-why? Why are you saying this?”

Her lips trembled as she spoke.

First, it praised her talent. Then, it tore it all down. This sudden reversal left her reeling, plunging back into self-loathing.

“Because you’ve lost the most important thing an artist needs—edge and pride. Without them, you’re already dead. It seems… after being bullied, you’ve become nothing but a whimpering coward, hiding in the corner. Ah… what a waste. Such a terrible waste…”

Dreamfiend sighed again, each word a knife carving deeper into Bai Mian’s heart.

“No… that’s not true.”

She tried to protest. But her mouth only let out a hollow, broken sound.

…In truth, it wasn’t wrong.

The realization hit her. Bai Mian buried her face in her knees once more.

After a long silence, she lifted her head.

“…Then… what should I do?”

“Simple. You revenge.”

“Revenge?”

The word brought Mo Li’s smug, hateful face to mind.

“Yes. Revenge,” Dreamfiend said.

“Revenge is humanity’s oldest, most sacred justice. Through revenge, you destroy your weakness, your pain—and the object of your hatred. I promise you… you’ll be reborn. Your talent will awaken again.”

“B-but…”

A flicker of hesitation crossed Bai Mian’s face.

“I know what you’re afraid of.”

Dreamfiend smiled.

Even without a mouth, the cold, calculating gleam in its eye evoked the serpent from Eden—coiled in the apple tree, silently watching Adam and Eve, tongue flicking in the air.

“Don’t worry. I’ll lend you the power to take revenge.”