T/N: Imagine my surprise when i check ciweimao, and theres an actual side story??? Let's go?
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There were always all kinds of bizarre events going on at Central Tracen.
Compared to organizing circus performances for students, inviting outstanding students to the prestigious Satono family's luxury resort, or all those Valentine's events and ballroom dances, the cultural festival was practically normal.
As the festival drew near, Sakura Bakushin O was darting all over the classroom organizing performances. Even the students out in the hallway could hear her bright, booming laughter.
Amid the noise, Dream Weaver sat at her desk with her chin propped in one hand, lost in thought.
Everyone already had to juggle academics and training on a daily basis. The debuted Uma Musume had to focus even more on the professional racing scene. So where in the world were they finding the time for all this stuff?
What Dream Weaver found even harder to understand was that somehow, without even realizing it, she'd ended up participating in every single one of those ridiculous events.
Could it be… that I'm actually some ridiculously carefree Uma Musume?
The thought made her slap her own cheeks lightly as she lectured herself internally.
"Dream Weaver, Dream Weaver, how could you fall this far?! Have you forgotten the study plan you made before?!"
"Even the Three Goddesses said there's no such thing as a stupid Uma Musume, only one who doesn't work hard. If I keep studying seriously, someday I'll definitely surpass Sakura Bakushin O in academics!"
Suddenly reignited with determination, Dream Weaver immediately dug her math textbook out from her desk.
Unfortunately, that determination lasted less than a minute before the strange, twisted-looking letters inside the book made her dizzy.
"T-This can't be possible! My grades were actually pretty good in middle school. How did they drop this fast after coming to Central Tracen?!"
Dream Weaver even started suspecting that the sports-school atmosphere at Central Tracen had somehow corrupted her, never once considering another possibility.
Namely, that the knowledge she remembered from her previous life was only enough to make her an honor student during middle school—as long as she studied hard.
Just as Dream Weaver had begun comforting herself with the sort of excuse elementary school teachers used—"Dream Weaver is actually very smart, she just doesn't apply herself to studying"—something suddenly flashed through the corner of her eye.
A figure came rushing toward her at incredible speed.
Orange-red short hair shimmered beneath the sunlight, every strand seeming to carry warmth stolen from the sun itself.
Before Dream Weaver could react, the newcomer had already flashed that trademark smile of hers—so dazzling it almost outshone daylight itself.
"Dreamie!"
T.M. Opera O seemed completely accustomed to this nickname by now, one that existed outside the boundaries of "rival."
"Come perform on stage with me for the cultural festival!"
As usual, she barely bothered asking for Dream Weaver's opinion before grabbing her by the hand.
Dream Weaver opened her mouth to protest. Her gaze shifted back and forth between T.M. Opera O and the math textbook lying half-open on her desk.
Just as Opera had expected, she didn't refuse in the end.
Instead, she let herself get dragged straight out of the classroom.
Only after the two had already slipped away did Sakura Bakushin O finally realize what had happened.
"Eh?! Wait a second!"
"Shouldn't Dream be helping with the class event?!"
She reached toward the retreating pair and cried out in anguish. The sheer heartbreak in her voice and expression was enough to make every Uma Musume watching sigh internally over how deeply attached she was.
Ignoring the loudly protesting Sakura Bakushin O, Dream Weaver—far too popular for her own good and constantly being fought over by others—was dragged all the way to the academy auditorium by T.M. Opera O.
Dream Weaver had assumed Opera was taking her to the Tracen Drama Club room, so when she saw the completely different venue before her, she blinked in surprise before turning toward Opera.
"We're not going to your Overlord Palace anymore?"
"A king having many palaces is only natural!"
T.M. Opera O replied without the slightest shame.
"If the club room is my summer retreat palace, then this auditorium is my Versailles! Wahahaha!"
Watching Opera stand there with her hands on her hips, laughing triumphantly, Dream Weaver twitched her lips helplessly.
"By normal logic… no matter how you look at it, the auditorium belongs to the school."
To be more precise, the club room belonged to the school too, but Opera obviously didn't care about such details.
Still holding Dream Weaver's hand, she led her step by step up onto the auditorium stage.
"Haa-ha-ha-ha! I submitted our performance proposal to the Student Council, and they've already granted me use of the auditorium!"
Of course, it was only during designated festival times, and not for exclusive use. After the drama club finished performing, other clubs would take turns using the stage too—the light music club and so on—but naturally, T.M. Opera O wasn't about to tell Dream Weaver that.
Instead, she puffed out her chest proudly and waited for the look of admiration she felt she deserved.
Instead, Dream Weaver frowned.
"The Student Council was that easy to persuade?"
She still remembered Chizuru Haibara grinding her teeth in frustration countless times while ranting about how useless the Student Council was, refusing even to let their club change its name.
"Haa-ha-ha-ha! Once they heard the name of the Overlord, even the Student Council had no choice but to submit!"
To be fair, Opera really had used the name of a certain Uma Musume to get approval.
Just not her own.
The moment Symboli Rudolf heard that Dream Weaver would be performing on the auditorium stage, she agreed without even half a second of hesitation.
Naturally, anything that might damage the dignity of the Overlord was information Opera would never reveal to Dream Weaver.
As though intentionally dodging the topic, she dragged Dream Weaver straight toward the center of the stage before she could continue questioning her.
At the center of the stage floor, tape had been placed in the shape of a T.
Dream Weaver remembered Opera mentioning before that it was a stage marker used to indicate center position for actors.
Looks like stage setup has already started.
Dream Weaver lightly tapped the center mark with the tip of her shoe.
Suddenly, she recalled something from long ago. During the gap between the second script mission and the third, she had once stood beneath a stage watching Opera and the others perform a play called StarLight.
She hadn't stayed to watch the whole thing.
At the time, burdened by the pressure of saving her mother, she simply couldn't immerse herself in the joy of the festival the way everyone else did.
So she turned and left the stage behind, almost fleeing as she entered another script world.
Who would've thought that after so long, she'd have another chance to approach a stage again?
No… maybe "who would've thought" wasn't right.
As long as she stayed beside T.M. Opera O, she would always end up touching a real stage again someday.
Lost in thought, Dream Weaver shook her head lightly. Her little black leather shoes clicked softly against the wooden floor.
Compared to back then, when merely standing beneath the stage had made her uncomfortable…
Did she now possess the resolve to step onto it herself and become the protagonist beneath the spotlight?
She turned toward Opera beside her and smiled faintly.
"So… what's this play about?"
Naturally, there could only be one answer.
T.M. Opera O, who had been standing there with her arms crossed while gazing down at the empty seats below—quite satisfied with how majestic and kingly she looked—turned toward Dream Weaver at the question.
Just as Dream Weaver believed she would become the heroine of Opera's scripts, Opera likewise believed Dream Weaver would never reject her.
Things that others needed words to communicate had long become unspoken understanding between the two of them.
After retrieving the script she had prepared beforehand from a corner of the auditorium and handing it over, Opera immediately launched into an endless explanation of the play's design.
"After watching Elisabeth before, I really loved the scenes where Elisabeth and Emperor Joseph clashed against each other. But I didn't like that vague relationship between Elisabeth and Death, and I hated how indecisive Joseph was, so everyone in the drama club worked together to rewrite the script."
"And since this is an Academy production, there's no way places like salons would be allowed on stage, plus all those historically specific scenes needed changing too."
"So the final version became a story about the Tyrant and her Queen—a relationship full of conflict that can never truly be severed. They're husband and wife, yet more like destined rivals. Complicated, tangled, inseparable!"
As she spoke, Opera rubbed thoughtfully at her chin and glanced toward Dream Weaver for feedback.
"Though Rudolf, Elisabeth and Joseph's child in the original story, was pretty interesting. If we can get Symboli Rudolf to play the role, maybe we won't have to cut the character after all."
"What do you think, Dreamie?"
Closing the script, even Dream Weaver had to admit it was an excellent story.
The complicated bond between the two leads was displayed vividly throughout the hour-and-a-half performance, but she didn't immediately answer Opera's question.
Instead, almost like she was speaking to herself, she murmured quietly:
"So I'm playing the Queen?"
"Who else would?"
Opera tilted her head in confusion.
The Overlord was her. She was the Overlord. In T.M. Opera O's worldview, this was as natural and unquestionable as hungry people needing to eat.
"Even if it's technically dual protagonists, the perspective clearly focuses more on the Overlord. The Overlord also has more scenes. Strictly speaking, that role is the true protagonist of the stage."
"What's wrong with—"
Before Opera could finish speaking, Dream Weaver suddenly stepped closer.
The abrupt movement startled Opera badly enough that she swallowed the rest of her sentence.
Looking into those pitch-black eyes that seemed capable of devouring everything, she unconsciously swallowed.
"That's not right, though."
"Didn't you tell me back in your palace?"
"That I shine brilliantly?"
"If I shine that brightly… then am I not qualified to become the true protagonist?"
Dream Weaver's soft voice brushed across Opera's cheeks in warm breaths.
It was like feathers gently sweeping across her heart, stirring an indescribable itch somewhere deep in her chest.
And just as people instinctively scratch at an itch, anyone faced with that feeling would find it impossible not to immediately grant whatever request stood before them.
But instead of yielding, T.M. Opera O suddenly smiled.
Not the tender smile of someone doting on a beloved partner.
No—
It was dangerous, like a king fully armored for battle, moments before seizing victory.
"You want to fight me for the role of protagonist?"
"Am I not dazzling enough to deserve it?"
Hearing that, the smile on Opera's face only widened further. The way she looked at Dream Weaver no longer resembled admiration for some priceless treasure.
It felt more like she was staring at a blade moments away from being unsheathed, and blades existed to wound.
Ordinary people might hesitate before such sharpness—might even fear it.
But T.M. Opera O would not.
She stood as an equal to that blade. More than that, she possessed the ambition to claim every peerless sword entirely for herself.
"Then let's settle this."
"Just like on the racetrack—the victor becomes the true protagonist."
The Overlord's overwhelming presence burst forth alongside her declaration.
In an instant, the empty stage blazed with heat beneath her sunlike existence, transforming into something as intense as a racetrack itself.
"Sure."
"I haven't lost even once on the track, after all."
Feeling the surging aura pouring from Opera, Dream Weaver narrowed her eyes.
The clear ringing of steel leaving its sheath seemed to echo across the entire stage.
Victory on the racetrack was simple.
The difference between the winner and loser was merely who crossed the finish line first.
But how exactly was one supposed to decide who became the stage's true protagonist?
Before Dream Weaver could think of an answer, Opera gave her one first.
A light step.
The distance between them had already been dangerously close to begin with.
Before Dream Weaver could react at all, soft warmth suddenly pressed against her lips. Like a spear breaking through fortress gates, Opera's tongue invaded without hesitation, forcing its way past lips and teeth alike.
Scorching hot—like the sun itself.
T.M. Opera O's warmth consumed every inch between their mouths.
Those kinglike violet eyes stared straight into Dream Weaver's own.
And just like every Overlord King, the owner of those eyes was overbearing beyond reason—not merely stealing Dream Weaver's tongue, but even robbing her of the right to breathe.
The fierce, forceful entanglement left Dream Weaver no room to catch her breath.
By the time that pink tongue finally withdrew, trailing a strand of silver between them, Dream Weaver's face was already burning red from the kiss, reduced to hurried gasps for air.
With smug satisfaction, T.M. Opera O—her own face equally flushed—rose onto her tiptoes so she stood just slightly taller than Dream Weaver and looked down at her triumphantly.
"It's not too late to surrender now, my rival."
This was the Overlord's kiss.
Forceful. Proud.
Leaving Dream Weaver no room whatsoever to refuse.
A greedy possessiveness that felt as though Opera wanted to seize control of her entire body.
But Dream Weaver did not melt beneath that domineering aggression like the fragile protagonists of romance novels.
Pressing her lips together, she waited until Opera relaxed in smug satisfaction—then suddenly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her down together onto the stage floor.
Opera barely had time to react before Dream Weaver pinned both her arms firmly in place.
She tried to struggle with her legs, only for Dream Weaver to trap them effortlessly beneath her thigh.
Dream Weaver's strength had long surpassed normal limits.
She could hold Opera down securely now.
Soft warmth spread through them even through their uniforms. Even separated by layers of cloth, the heartbeat pounding within Opera's chest still melted against Dream Weaver's body with unbearable softness.
Yet before Opera could indulge in even a trace of tenderness, she saw Dream Weaver leaning down toward her from above—
Straight toward her lips.
Perhaps because she'd only just recovered her breathing, Dream Weaver's kisses weren't as prolonged as Opera's had been.
But after every brief breath she took, she attacked again.
And again.
And again.
Wet strands of silver stretched between them as scorching tongues invaded Opera's mouth relentlessly, as though Dream Weaver intended to claim every inch inside it as her own.
She left her marks there over and over without restraint.
After who knew how many kisses, Dream Weaver finally lifted her head. Damp strands of hair clung to the corners of her eyes from the heat between them.
Looking down at the breathless T.M. Opera O beneath her, she said softly: "It's not too late to surrender now, my rival."
She deliberately repeated the exact same words Opera had spoken earlier.
And just as expected, Opera—whose eyes had still been hazy from all the kissing a moment ago—instantly snapped back to full attention.
Even pinned beneath Dream Weaver, the smile on her face refused to yield an inch.
"That's it?"
"If it's only this much, you won't be taking the Overlord away."
Even though the Dream Weaver reflected in her eyes already shone brighter than anything else in the world, Opera still refused to admit defeat.
She lifted her slender neck proudly. The buttons at her collar had long since come undone during their struggle, exposing glimpses of pale skin beneath.
Like a challenge, she stuck out her tongue toward Dream Weaver.
"I can fight with you like this all day."
Dream Weaver removed the red ribbon tied behind her and pressed it against Opera's body.
Her Stamina and Guts had already reached utterly absurd levels. If this continued, she was fully confident that the only victor would be herself.
At that, Opera tilted her head slightly and looked up at her with sparkling eyes.
"Who knows?"
The instant Dream Weaver loosened her attention to untie the ribbon, Opera suddenly flipped their positions again.
Now straddling Dream Weaver, T.M. Opera O immediately wrapped her tightly in her arms before she could retaliate.
She pressed herself against Dream Weaver completely, leaving not even the slightest gap between them.
Greedy like an Overlord King, as though she intended to claim every single thing Dream Weaver possessed. Stretching her neck forward, she bit lightly at Dream Weaver's ear and exhaled a warm breath against it.
"The battle to decide who gets the leading role…"
"…has only just begun."
Inside the empty school auditorium, upon a stage known only to the two of them, the battle over who would be the Overlord and who would be the Queen had only just begun.
As for that earlier flurry of kisses—
At most, it merely counted as the curtain rising.
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T/N: Yeesh. A side story and its wuhluhwuh Dream Weaver x T.M. Opera O. THIS IS ABSOLUTE PEAK!!!