The following morning, before dawn, Yvette was awoken by a call. Blinking her eyes, she saw her student sitting on the carpet beside the bed, leaning on the edge and staring at her with panda eyes, looking like an adorable little blonde ghost.

“Good morning, Teacher,” Rosalyn said.

“…What time did you start sitting there?”

“Um, it was around four o’clock.”

“Up so early?”

“…I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm, remember not to lean by my bedside in the future.”

“…Okay.” Realizing she might have been disliked, Rosalyn made a sound like a disgruntled little puppy.

However, no matter how tired she felt, the thought of exploring this magnificent “ancient divine country” soon lifted Rosalyn’s spirits.

She eagerly retrieved the dry clothes she had prepared for her teacher, but at that moment, the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, Rosalyn’s breath caught in her throat—the narrow corridor held a life-sized doll-like figure, its porcelain-white skin radiating a cold glow. Its spherical joints clicked softly as it bowed, holding two boxes in its hands.

“Welcome to ‘Sky Express,’ this is your delivery, which has been signed for via photo. Wishing you a pleasant day—goodbye.” After delivering the items, the doll turned and left, leaving a stunned Rosalyn standing in place.

“Teacher…!!” Rosalyn stammered, “Just now, there was a person… no, a doll!! It gave me something! How can that doll talk?”

“That’s something I ordered online; I mentioned it to you last night.” Yvette clarified. “The doll is a ‘mechanical puppet,’ a type of magitek creation that looks human but lacks a soul—it’s merely a human mimic.”

“That’s amazing, it’s just like something out of a fairy tale…”

With her teacher’s explanation, Rosalyn closed the door in awe, unboxing the contents to reveal the outfits selected the night before: one set a black and white minimalist style for her teacher, and another her own blue and white youthful style.

“Let’s go.” After changing, Yvette said.

“Okay!”

Soon, under Yvette’s guidance, Rosalyn stepped outside the inn and took a deep breath. The streets were not particularly clean, with chewing gum and strange advertisement cards stuck to the ground, and graffiti lining the walls alongside suspicious stains that carried an unpleasing odor.

But she felt nothing of the sort; having seen much dirtier streets in the count’s territory, this little bit didn’t matter at all.

At this moment, her eyes were filled only with the novelty of the unknown world; even the scent of fried foods wafting from a nearby breakfast stall seemed particularly enticing.

“Teacher, where are we going next?” Rosalyn eagerly asked after finishing her breakfast, fully embracing a tourist mindset.

“First, we’ll check out a few places here to look for ways to make some money. If you start feeling tired, you can go back to sleep in the room… We’ll visit the city center tonight, which is also the area where we can call ‘home,’” Yvette replied.

As someone with experience, Yvette’s primary understanding of the Dream Mist was simply to “survive,” as in, do nothing and avoid accidental death, waiting for the dream to collapse on its own in time. To survive well, the immediate priority was to earn money; once they were financially secure, they would naturally find a way to exchange for a safer identity ID card, escaping the suspicion of murder and illegal system hacking—even if it was true.

So the night before, besides ordering clothes online, Yvette had also scoured various local forums covering the gray market within Ish City to locate underground trading markets. Eventually, she found several small anonymous channels where she spent a bit of money buying specific locations for several “underground trading markets” in the Blackwater Zone, planning to check them out today to see if there was any work she might be able to do.

Once they resolved the money issues, taking her disciple to have a good time in the city center would be no problem at all. She might even purchase some necessary items to try bringing back with her into reality when the dream concluded.

“I don’t need to; I’m really not tired at all,” Rosalyn quickly insisted.

Yvette glanced at her still prominent dark circles and hummed in response.

…

The street where Yvette and Rosalyn stayed was called “Pixel Street,” a name that seemed amusing but was actually derived from the peculiar understanding of “macroeconomics of additional income distribution” by the local street office. As a result, the holographic advertisements here appeared blurrier compared to other places.

About five kilometers down this street, there was an underground trading market known as the “Scrapyard Black Market,” established in the underground of a garbage dump, converted from old air raid shelters. This place facilitated many illicit transactions and was thus extremely hostile to outsiders; without a trusted introducer, entry was strictly forbidden.

As newcomers, Yvette and Rosalyn wouldn’t find anyone willing to vouch for them, but she still intended to give it a try.

Before long, as they disembarked from an odoriferous bus, they arrived at the edge of the Blackwater Zone, where overgrown wasteland could be seen along the roadside. Piled high in fences was an area overflowing with trash, which was their destination.

Guarding the garbage dump were two burly men, one with a buzz cut and the other bald-headed, both nearing two meters tall, with arms cybernetically enhanced to exude an intimidating presence.

As the bald man noticed Yvette and Rosalyn getting closer, he immediately approached, sternly barking, “Kids, this isn’t a place for you! Go back home!”

Evidently, Yvette and Rosalyn’s pretty faces, clean new outfits, and youthful high school ages led the guards to mistakenly think they were lost tourists.

Yvette said nothing; she expressionlessly raised her chin to look at the bald man, until the man’s impatience reached its peak. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers crisply.

In the next instant, four massive red rune rings floated around Yvette, each with a terrifying flame dragon bursting forth, intertwining and swirling above her head, making her appear like a descending angel of fire—majestic and commanding.

“Cyber Mage?!” The unexpected display jolted the bald man back, retreating a few steps in alarm, while the buzz-cut man’s countenance changed dramatically.

This group was known as the most dangerous segment in all gray areas, often dubbed “Rune Hackers!”

“What do you want?” The bald man, regaining some composure and pulling back a good distance of ten meters, asked warily.

His mechanical enhancements looked intimidating, but they were only the most basic models, offering little more than strength; he was unwilling to engage in a confrontation with a Cyber Mage.

“We’re here to do a bit of business, um, without a vouching party.” Yvette resumed her blank expression, indicating her intent.

Surprised at this response, the two guards exchanged glances—this gray market typically dealt with low-level transactions, and visitors were mostly local bottom-feeders. Why would a bona fide Cyber Mage deign to seek profit from such a place? Find the newest release on novel fire.net

“Um… esteemed Mage Miss, please wait a moment. We can’t decide this matter without notifying our boss…”

Yvette nodded in response, slightly lifting her chin, signaling for them to hurry.