My Seatmate is Apparently My Wife from My Past Life; She Still Loves Me in This Life as Well

Some say that the dreams we see while sleeping are a process by which the brain organizes the memories accumulated while awake. Because of this, their content is random, lacking consistency, and is composed of a series of fragmented images.

However, if that is true, then all dreams must be linked to actual experiences. Nothing that has never been experienced should occur, and no place never imagined should serve as a setting.

You should never meet people you haven’t encountered, nor hear the voices of those you’ve never spoken to. These thoughts are futile, yet I can’t help but ponder them.

The reason is that I seem to be having what is known as a lucid dream. A lucid dream—where one can act freely and manipulate the content within the dream with full awareness.

I can’t quite grasp the idea of controlling my dreams, and it doesn’t seem feasible, so it might not be a true lucid dream. However, since I can act and think freely, it must be a form of one.

I find myself in an unfamiliar room, a typical tatami room one would envision upon hearing the word “Japanese-style room.”

It’s not just an unfamiliar ceiling; I recognize none of the items in sight, and I’ve never stepped into such a room before. If dreams are about organizing memories, this shouldn’t be strange—as I’ve seen such rooms even if I haven’t entered one.

Yet, if there’s something definitively odd, it would be the girl standing before me.

Her hair, long and golden like spun silk, reaches her waist. Her eyes, transparent and amber, seem to look into the distance.

Her delicate body seems fragile enough to break at any moment. Her skin is so white it’s almost sickly, far from healthy.

Despite this, she directed a familiar smile at me.

“…? Is something wrong? If you stare at me like that, even I will get embarrassed, you know?”

I’ve never been called “Senior.” Just as my middle school years were a bit of a black mark, I had no close juniors. My high school life, as you know, is a mess.

Yet, being called “Senior” by this unfamiliar girl felt strangely fitting. It was as if I’d been called that forever.

“Ah, um… well, it’s no longer appropriate to call you Senior. So, um, maybe ‘master’…?”

Blushing to her ears, the girl said this with a question mark at the end. The word, which I’ve heard too often recently, made me shiver, but because she seemed embarrassed, I accepted it without resistance.

In terms of the situation, it was absurd—being brought to an unknown place by an unknown girl, and for some reason, being treated like her husband. But strangely, I didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Of course, it’s my dream, so it’s natural. However, the freshness of the dream was overwhelming, and I didn’t know this girl at all.

I didn’t recognize her face or her voice.

Despite being able to see and hear her so clearly, I couldn’t place her. Yet, I felt a strange sense of nostalgia and an awkward sense of dissonance.

“Ahaha, it’s still a bit embarrassing. We’ve already married, so I shouldn’t be so self-conscious, right?”

She spoke, lovingly stroking a simple silver ring. I saw the same ring on my left hand and frowned at its unnaturalness.

Or rather, its naturalness.

It wasn’t the oddity of it but how it felt completely normal, which struck me as strange.

I’d lived a life far removed from rings, let alone wedding rings, which were the furthest thing from me in every sense.

“But Senior, I want to cherish these feelings. I want to treasure every moment and keep them close so I can always retrieve them. I might not be able to build up such memories for long. And if these are imprinted on you, Senior, I would be so very happy.”

So, please don’t forget, she said. Her voice grew a little distant.

“I love you, Senior… No, I love you, ─── kun. Perhaps it’s not something to say first thing in the morning.”

The girl smiled bashfully, and I tried to respond. At the same time, the surroundings blurred.

I felt a sensation of rising consciousness and realized I was waking up from the dream.

As I surrendered to it, feeling a bit of longing to see more, the familiar hazel eyes I had recently come to know looked at me.

A radiant smile bloomed before me.

“Ah, good morning, Uraku. You’re up early today, too.”

“……????? Kamidama Kagari…?”

“Correct. I’m your wife, Kamidama Kagari. I came to wake you up like a good wife would.”

“No, wait, how did you get into my house!?”

“How? Just normally.”

“Normal…!?”

Her sense of ethics is broken! I screamed at this absurdity at a little past five in the morning.

It was the most exhilarating wake-up since I started high school.