Dreamwalker: Reign of the Heavenly Sovereign!-Chapter 45

Hoshizuki, 4:30 AM. The Sakuragi Residence.

All the lights were off inside the Sakuragi family household—except for a lone night lamp on a desk upstairs. Scattered notes and scribbled-on papers littered its surface.

But no one sat at the desk. The chair, which should've been neatly tucked beneath it, stood by the open window instead. The early morning sky was still scattered with stars; the sun had yet to rise.

"Should I call Mom?" Yumi asked, concern heavy in her voice. Her eyes were red and tired, dark circles blooming beneath them—a clear sign of a sleepless night. She clutched her phone, hesitating, torn between pressing the call button or holding back.

Her mind kept replaying the previous night's encounter.

Was he mad at her?

Should she not have sent him away? Should she have heard him out?

These questions clung to Yumi as she worried about where Oliver could be. He hadn't come home after school, and she couldn't help but wonder—was it because she rejected his advice?

What he did was wrong, and she knew it. He was eighteen. She was fourteen. Wrong didn't even begin to cover it.

But... wasn't this always what she'd dreamed of?

Maybe it hadn't started when her dad remarried, but over time, she found herself growing a little crush on the boy who became her onii-chan.

He was kind, charming in his own quiet way, and always willing to help her when she needed it. Then one day, her father told her to stay away from him—to act like he didn't even exist.

She didn't understand why. All she remembered was her father's anger. Furious. Unrelenting.

Until he finally kicked Oliver out of the house.

She'd only been eleven at the time.

Too young to understand.

Later, her stepmother told her that Oliver had done something—something bad enough to make her normally calm father furious.

Still, after a lot of begging, her stepmother convinced him to look for Oliver.

But he was nowhere to be found.

Not that day.

Not the next.

Each passing day weighed heavier on Yumi's chest.

Where was he?

Was he safe?

"Onii-chan, where are you?"

It took them five days to find him—camping alone in a park.

He was huddled beneath a playground slide, a woman's red coat draped over his shoulders. His hair was a mess. There was a hickey on his neck—and that scent...

She couldn't name it at the time, but now, looking back, it was painfully clear.

Sex.

Raw. Unfiltered.

Just like the air he carried two nights ago.

He didn't say much when they found him. He just stared out into space—silent, distant.

Maybe her father and stepmother could tell what had happened. Maybe that's why their anger dissolved, why they took him into their arms without another word.

She didn't understand the emotions behind that hug.

All she knew was—her onii-chan was back.

Tears began to swell in her eyes as she looked out at the empty streets below. A familiar weight—one she hadn't felt since early adolescence—pressed down on her chest.

Her thumb hovered over the call button.

Then the wind stirred. It blew through the open window, drawing her eyes to the side.

And there he was.

Oliver.

Walking down the street toward the house.

His hair was cut shorter now, slicked back in a neat undercut. His school uniform was crisp, his frame broader than before. He carried his school bag with one hand—inside it, she could just make out slim, white-and-blue present boxes.

"Onii-chan!" Yumi shouted.

Surprisingly—despite the distance—he seemed to hear her. He turned his head upward, locking eyes with her. His piercing blue gaze cut through the pale light of early morning.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Without thinking, she stepped back from the window and bolted from her room. Her breath caught in her throat as she sprinted through the dim hallway, then down the stairs, racing straight for the door.

She reached for the handle—locked.

She fumbled with it briefly, then flung it open with a gasp. The cold porch stung her bare feet, but she didn't stop.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran barefoot toward the sidewalk.

"Onii-chan!" she cried again.

Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, louder than her footsteps. Her hair whipped behind her in the wind, her silky pink camisole and frilled shorts fluttering as she ran—toward the boy who had never quite left her heart.

She didn't think. Couldn't.

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The moment her feet touched the sidewalk, her body moved on its own—driven by raw emotion, confusion, longing, and the kind of ache that had been quietly gnawing at her for years.

Oliver slowed as she neared, his expression unreadable—calm, almost too calm. But his eyes... they flickered with something else.

Yumi didn't stop running.

She closed the distance in a heartbeat, flung herself into his arms—

—and kissed him.

Her hands clutched his uniform collar, pulling herself up just enough, lips crashing into his in a heated, clumsy, desperate kiss. There was no hesitation, no restraint.

Just years of silence and ache pouring out in one reckless motion.

His body tensed at first, frozen in surprise, but she didn't stop.

She kissed him like a girl possessed—like the ache in her chest would finally ease if she just held him tight enough, if she just made him feel what she was feeling.

When she finally pulled back, gasping, her hands still trembling against his chest, she saw it.

The flicker in his blue eyes had deepened—into something warmer, something dangerous.

"Yumi..." he breathed, voice low, nearly inaudible under the rising wind.

Her lips parted. "I'm sorry. I—I thought you weren't coming back. I didn't know what to do."

Oliver sighed, holding back the depraved thoughts that rushed to the front of his head after that kiss. He'd already had his fill, and even though he didn't mind Yumi's sudden affection, he didn't like the way his stomach churned.

Was this... disgust?

Not at Yumi.

At himself.

"I'm... sorry I made you worry," he said, brushing away the tears in her eyes. "Is Mom home? And why did you rush out like thi—"

He didn't have time to finish.

Yumi kissed him again.

But this time, the kiss was shorter—because Oliver pushed her back.

"...." He paused, having stopped her without thinking.

"Onii-chan?"

Her voice trembled, barely a whisper against the cold morning breeze. She felt the air rush between them where his warmth had been just moments before. Her chest tightened. He had pulled away.

He pushed her away.

Yumi's heart sank as her thoughts spiraled.

Is this because of that night? Because I didn't let him speak? Because I told him to leave?

Her throat ached, her lips still tingling from the kiss she had given so freely... so desperately.

He thinks I don't want him.

But she did. She always had. Even if she didn't understand it fully back then—when she was eleven, when she'd cried for him every night, hugging his old hoodie like it could bring him back. Even when she found out why her father had been so furious. Even when she convinced herself she was over it. Even now, when she knew it was wrong, she couldn't stop herself.

Is this what he felt when I told him to go away that night?

When I didn't even let him finish his sentence?

She looked up at him, eyes searching. His gaze had softened, but there was something behind it—hesitation. Restraint. A wall she thought she had helped build.

The silence stretched painfully.

Yumi clutched her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the morning chill and the thinness of her cami. Her eyes stung again, not from the wind this time, but from something deeper.

"Hey..." Oliver looked at her sad expression, and something sharp tugged at his chest.

Wait... she kissed me, right? Like, twice?

The thought echoed as a strange, uncomfortable heat coiled in his gut. One of his darkest, deepest fantasies—something he'd never dare admit to anyone, not now, not ever—had just come true. And somehow, he hadn't even fully realized it until now.

But surprisingly, this didn't stir the emotions he thought it would.

"It's still dark out," he said, adjusting his shoulder strap. "Let's get inside."

He glanced at her, offering a soft smile. "I'm glad you were that excited to see me again... but let's not do this again."

His hand reached out, ruffling her hair gently.

"...Not until you're eighteen."

Then, before she could even react, he leaned in and kissed her back—deeply, passionately—pulling her just close enough for the world to disappear for a moment.

"Starting now~," he whispered against her lips.

Yumi stood frozen.

The kiss lingered on her lips like a heat that wouldn't fade. His words still echoed in her head—"Not until you're eighteen."

And yet, he'd kissed her back.

A real kiss. Not a quick peck. Not a flustered push away. But the kind of kiss that made her knees weak and her heart sprint like it was trying to escape her chest.

Her breath hitched. She didn't speak. Couldn't.

She just stared up at him, her hands trembling slightly at her sides.

That's when it hit her.

What she'd done.

What he'd said.

What it meant.

She took a small step back.

"...W-What?" Her voice cracked.

Oliver blinked. "What?"

"You said—'not until I'm eighteen'... but then you—" Her voice caught again. She looked away, her shoulders tensing. "Why would you say that if you're just gonna..."

Her face burned. The morning air suddenly felt thick, stifling. Embarrassment, guilt, and confusion swirled together in her chest, tightening into a knot she couldn't untangle.

"I didn't mean to—I didn't plan to kiss you like that, I just... I thought you were gone, and I panicked, and—" She sucked in a breath. Her voice was starting to wobble.

"I thought if I didn't do something, you'd disappear again."

Oliver's face softened, but he didn't speak. He just stood there, quietly watching her as the emotions poured out.

She hugged herself, more to hold herself together than for warmth.

"And then you kissed me back, and I— I don't even know if that makes this better or worse." She looked up at him again, eyes watery. "What does that even mean, Onii-chan?"

A pause.

He let out a slow breath. "I don't know. Let's just get home. You need sleep," he said, ruffling her hair again.

As he started to walk past her, he swatted her backside lightly—more reflex than thought.

"Oliver!" she snapped, half-turning, face red.

"You're still wearing pajama shorts," he said innocently, already walking ahead.

"Pervert."

"Criminal," he muttered back with a smirk.

Yumi stood frozen for a moment, her face still flushed from the heat of both the kiss and Oliver's teasing remark. The cool morning air seemed to cool her thoughts as she watched him walk ahead, his steps casual, his back turned to her as if the whole conversation—and the kiss—had never happened.

"Pervert..." she muttered under her breath, though the words felt like a feeble attempt to hide the confusion and rawness churning inside her. She didn't know what she felt anymore. It was like trying to hold onto something slipping through her fingers, a sense of longing and confusion mingling into one.

She watched him a little longer, trying to figure out her own emotions before walk after him, she reached for his arm and locked their arms together, "I.. I love you.. "

She said it without really expecting an answer, and he didn't give her one either—but she felt like she had to say something. The whole interaction had been weird from start to finish, yet it felt like something had been lifted off her chest.

"Also, Mom's not home. She said she's busy at the hospital, and Auntie's coming at seven to take us to school," Yumi said, remembering his earlier question.

"...And I'll keep what you said today as a promise. So you better wait for me to turn eighteen, okay, Oliver onii-chan."

She tugged on his arm and looked straight into his eyes.

"I-I expect you to take responsibility... for playing with my heart."