Chapter 495: Anti-Addiction System
Wade had been idly resting his chin in one hand, his eyes lazily scanning the contents of the room. When he sensed movement, he turned his head, eyebrows lifting slightly in mild surprise.
Though daytime dreams could be freely abandoned, it was unexpected that Nicolas Flamel—a man who had long since left the world—had managed to depart from this customized dream within mere minutes. His clarity was remarkable.
Then Wade realized: as long as he, the guest, sat right beside him, Flamel couldn’t possibly weave the dream he truly longed for. He probably just crafted a mundane one—something simple, like walking along a seaside beach.
But then he noticed a single tear rolling down the old man’s horned cheek, tracing a path across his pale skin before Flamel gently wiped it away with his hand.
“It’s a good dream… a truly good invention,” Flamel said, his voice tinged with melancholy. “I saw some friends who’ve long since departed… That time… it was so sweet to remember.”
Wade frowned. “I thought you’d… well, linger a little longer.”
“I can’t afford to immerse myself,” Flamel carefully placed the feather quill back into the box, closed it, and gave it a soft pat. “I’m afraid I’d lose myself completely—never want to return to reality again.”
“It only lasts thirty minutes at most,” Wade said.
“But what about the next thirty minutes? And the one after that? Countless repetitions, until the end of life itself.”
Flamel looked into Wade’s clear eyes and smiled. “Child, you’re still too young. Only when you’ve lost so many important people—like I have—can you truly understand the danger of this dream.”
Wade fell silent.
He had lost people too.
After the Daydream Quill was created, the first one to use it was himself. For a few days, he had plunged into various dreams, completely lost in them, unwilling to wake. But once that phase passed, he awoke from the final dream—and was struck by a sudden, overwhelming emptiness. Emotions drained away like the tide retreating from the shore. His mind felt barren, silent, hollow. He didn’t even want to pick up the quill again.
It reminded him of a summer holiday from his middle school days, when his parents, letting go of their usual restrictions, allowed him to play video games endlessly. After weeks of nonstop gaming, he suddenly felt a wave of existential dread: What am I even doing?
He’d felt guilty, as if all the time and effort he’d poured in had been swallowed by an invisible black hole. Looking back, he couldn’t even remember why he’d been drawn in. He didn’t know what he’d gained beyond a few in-game numbers. The excitement, the thrill—gone. Even the memories of the games had faded. Only one thought remained: Where did all my time go?
After that, he never fell into such a trap again. He’d only occasionally open a game when bored—just to pass the time.
The Daydream Quill was no different.
Under magic’s influence, even in dreams, he knew—clearly—that everything was illusion. The loving parents, the vibrant school life, wealth, beauty, status, power, adventures in foreign worlds, standing shoulder to shoulder with historical figures—none of it was real.
And it lasted at most thirty minutes. Each time he awoke, a wave of loss and emptiness would rise again.
Worse, the dreams couldn’t be easily linked. To continue one after another, you had to painstakingly write a detailed narrative each time—ink consumption doubled, and enthusiasm evaporated even before the writing was done.
Some might foolishly build their nests in illusion, like drinking poison to quench thirst. But Wade felt only disgust and fatigue. He didn’t want to go on.
To him, it was like a form of desensitization—far less difficult than Flamel seemed to think.
Perhaps sensing the faint hesitation in Wade’s eyes, Flamel said, “Wade, I remember you have a partnership with a magical shop?”
“Yes,” Wade replied. “Machionni’s Aslan Magical Workshop.”
“Are you short on money, child?”
“No. I’d say I’m fairly well-off.”
“Then… this might be a bit forward…” Flamel spoke slowly. “Could I ask you not to sell this feather quill in your shop?”
Wade shrugged. “I don’t really care about profit. But why? The Daydream Charm is just a fairly common spell. Lots of people know it.”
“How can a random dream compare to one shaped by desire?” Flamel sighed. “Most people aren’t like you—clear-minded and disciplined. For them, this quill is more dangerous than any drug.”
“Alright,” Wade said. “I’ll agree. But I think it could still be used for good—like helping patients with mental illness, offering comfort to those who’ve lost loved ones, letting them see their dearly missed ones again. Or even for learning, for practice, for simulations.”
Flamel offered a faint smile. “Of course. The power of imagining reality is a double-edged sword—capable of harm, but also of great good. The key lies in how people choose to use it.”
He paused, then added, “Perhaps we shouldn’t ban the quill outright. Just add some restrictions. May I offer you a suggestion, child?”
Wade replied at once, “Of course. I’d be honored.”
An Anti-Addiction System, he thought. He was actually quite familiar with it.
“We could embed a magical structure that limits usage,” Wade suggested. “After three uses, the quill goes dormant, and won’t awaken again for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Not enough,” Flamel said. “A frenzied user would just buy more quills.”
“What if we add a spell that senses the user’s emotions and mental state?” Wade continued. “When they’re deeply immersed, the dream turns into a nightmare—forcing them to wake up.”
“That’s risky,” Wade objected. “It could scare patients who rely on it for therapy. A sudden shock might worsen their condition.”
Flamel nodded slowly. “You’re right. Then… what if the dream solidifies into something utterly boring?”
“Boring?” Wade rubbed his chin, then suddenly his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “How about making it an exam? An endless exam. All questions at the highest difficulty. No matter how hard you try, you can’t solve a single one.”
“An exam?” Flamel fell silent for a long moment, then let out a dry chuckle. “That idea… is truly brilliant…”
He met Wade’s gaze, and the wrinkles around his eyes sparkled with quiet cunning and quiet anticipation.
(End of Chapter)
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