The setting sun dyed Tracen Academy's track in shades of crimson. Most of the Uma Musume had already left after training, leaving only a few scattered figures still pushing through extra drills.
"Huh?"
King Halo's pupils constricted sharply in the twilight.
Narita Top Road had clearly said that Dream Weaver hadn't taken a single day off in over half a month—so why did the girl before her now—
Sweat traced paths down Dream Weaver's cheeks, glinting like amber in the fading sunlight. Her signature dark eyes were clear and bright, without a trace of shadow.
Just then, the automatic sprinklers at the edge of the field suddenly whirred to life. A fine mist sprayed between the two, forming a hazy curtain that fractured King Halo's view of Dream Weaver into fragments.
"If there's nothing else, I'm going back to training."
Dream Weaver's voice came from the other side of the water veil; King Halo could no longer make out her face clearly.
With less than a week left until the Satsuki Sho, nothing was more important to Dream Weaver than training—not even rest.
After all, she'd already used a medical repair pack to suppress her injuries. Time was all she had left.
As she turned to leave, a trembling hand suddenly seized her wrist.
"Little Dream… how long has it been since you last called me 'big sister'?"
King Halo's tone was eerily calm, giving nothing away.
"Does it even matter?"
Dream Weaver answered offhandedly, not really understanding the question.
Back when she'd first entered this story world, she'd used the term for a while. But once she'd realized her mental age was older than King Halo's, she'd quietly dropped it—after all, constantly calling someone who felt like a grade-schooler "big sister" was just too awkward.
But to King Halo, those words carried a very different meaning.
"So it's true… you really have been pretending all along…"
Her voice was still steady, but Dream Weaver could feel the sweat dampening her palm. Puzzled, Dream Weaver turned to read King Halo's expression.
All she could see was her lowered head and drooping ears.
"What are you talking about?"
"Your talent, of course!"
"You've been throwing races against me this whole time, haven't you?!"
King Halo's head snapped up, her eyes blazing. In her mind, Dream Weaver—with her far superior talent—must have realized the gap between them long ago and stopped seeing her as an older sister.
Yes, just like Mother! In their eyes, someone without talent like her was nothing but a clown, a joke.
Just like that Narita Top Road! How could someone as gifted as Dream Weaver possibly collapse from a little training? They must have lured her here just to mock her again!
All because she had no talent. Because she'd lost every race for a full year—because she wasn't fit to be a top-class Uma Musume.
"Pretending… talent?"
A complicated look crossed Dream Weaver's face. She never expected to hear such words from King Halo—the one she'd never once defeated.
What talent did she have? If her stats hadn't been capped at B-rank, would she have needed to bet everything on mastering her domain? Would she have needed to train day and night without rest, just to scrape together one more shred of hope?
"Isn't that right?! Mother has always favored you too, hasn't she?!"
Convinced she'd uncovered the truth, King Halo grew more agitated. She began shouting, oblivious to the other Uma Musume still on the field.
After all, Mother had never once told Dream Weaver to give up racing.
"You call that favoritism?!"
The medical repair pack could ease physical exhaustion, but it did nothing for mental strain.
After days of relentless training, Dream Weaver's spirit was already worn thin. Stung by the accusation about talent, she now felt King Halo's words like a knife twisting deeper.
She'd been forced to train like this—desperate, reckless—because she couldn't find a trainer. If Dancing Brave's actions were what King Halo called "favoritism," then Dream Weaver had nothing left to say.
She felt a throbbing at her temples, like a hammer pounding inside her skull.
"Isn't it?!"
To King Halo, Dream Weaver was just putting on an act. Burning with anger, she grabbed Dream Weaver by the collar and yelled right in her face.
"As a world-class Uma Musume, Mother must see more potential in you—someone with real talent!"
"Are you kidding me?!"
The tension in Dream Weaver—stretched taut as a bowstring—finally snapped under King Halo's relentless words.
"You're the one with real talent!"
"Instead of pressuring me, you should be training harder."
"Do you think shouting louder will win you a G1 championship?!"
Dream Weaver had staked everything on the Satsuki Sho. She couldn't understand—and had no energy left to understand—King Halo's sudden outburst.
After delivering her cold retort, she pried King Halo's hand away. She didn't have time to stand here and argue.
But even after being pushed back, King Halo refused to leave. As Dream Weaver began to disappear into the mist, she shouted after her.
"Because I have no talent! Whether it's being a top-tier Uma Musume or belonging to the so-called 'Golden Generation,' I can't possibly—"
Before she could finish, Dream Weaver turned and charged back through the water curtain.
Tracen's track was covered in real grass to better simulate race conditions, requiring heavy daily irrigation. Even that brief dash through the spray left Dream Weaver drenched.
Her black hair clung to her face, sweat and spray mingling until they were indistinguishable. Her standard-issue Tracen workout clothing, now soaked, clung tightly to her body.
Dust, mud, grass clippings—all the grime from training had been washed into streaky, pathetic stains. In King Halo's eyes, Dream Weaver looked utterly wretched—nothing like the image of her brilliant, talented little sister.
But Dream Weaver's eyes—those dark, soul-piercing eyes—burned with terrifying intensity. The floodlights over the track flickered on behind her, momentarily blinding King Halo.
"Let me tell you something."
Dream Weaver gripped King Halo's collar. Her gaze burned like fire, but her voice was cold as ice.
"The Uma Musume named Dream Weaver has none of the talent you speak of."
King Halo opened her mouth, but every excuse she might have offered turned to ash under that scorching stare.
"But she will still win the Satsuki Sho!"
"She will win the Satsuki Sho—"
"With inferior abilities compared to every other favorite!"
With that, Dream Weaver released King Halo and turned back into the curtain of water.
Strength drained from her limbs, and King Halo collapsed onto the grass. Through blurred vision, she watched the water veil flow like liquid amber under the harsh lights. Dream Weaver walked into it as though stepping into the light itself.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.