"Dreams, you did wonderfully."
Once again, they were in that opulent golden hall. Northern Grandmother spoke to Dream Weaver in a gentle tone.
Compared to that gloomy, decaying Western-style mansion reeking of dampness, she seemed to prefer staying in this grand hall.
It was hardly surprising—the Northern family had fallen from grace, after all. Aside from the living quarters where the grandmother and granddaughter resided, many other parts of the estate were shrouded in dust. Living in such a place would naturally cast a shadow over one's spirits.
So, whenever Dream Weaver was training, her grandmother would come to this hall, polishing the portrait frames of their ancestors while losing herself in golden memories of the past.
Only here could she sit up straight and share those historical tales—the same ones she had repeated countless times—with Dream Weaver.
Now, having witnessed Dream Weaver win the Kobe Shimbun Hai and take the first step toward restoring the Northern family's glory, the gloom on the grandmother's face had lightened considerably.
"Winning a race like this should be expected of me."
"Dinner is ready—let me take you to the dining room."
To Dream Weaver, the Kobe Shimbun Hai wasn't a particularly special race. She didn't feel much joy after winning it either. Compared to the old woman's gratification, she found it more important to wheel her to dinner.
Though she hadn't inherited the memories of this scripted world, Grandmother was still an elderly woman. Dream Weaver felt that since she was here, it was her duty to take care of her.
And if there was one thing Dream Weaver understood deeply, it was how miserable it felt to go hungry.
With that, she walked behind her grandmother's wheelchair and placed her hands on it.
But before she could push, her hands were covered by a pair of warm ones.
"Dreams, you are a good child."
"But remember, no victory is ever taken for granted. Just like the glory of our ancestors—every bit of it was earned through their utmost effort."
Hearing her grandmother's rambling, Dream Weaver's brow twitched faintly.
She couldn't shake the feeling that these words sounded familiar—hadn't she said something similar to T.M. Opera O on the track?
'No victory is ever taken for granted'—it was a lesson she should have already learned.
Dream Weaver unconsciously pressed her lips together, realizing there was a slight flaw in her mindset.
Was it because, in this scripted world, her attributes were no longer restricted? Had becoming stronger made her complacent about a race like this?
At that thought, she shook her head inwardly, scolding herself for such weakness. Wasn't her defeat by T.M. Opera O the clearest example? How could she have forgotten?
"I understand. I won't make such a mistake again."
Realizing that her grandmother had just patched a hole in her mentality, Dream Weaver thanked her sincerely. This small flaw might not have affected the upcoming Kikuka Shō, but what about races after that?
When Uma Musume pour their entire beings onto the stage to seize that radiant victory, when the gaps between individuals narrow in fierce competition, in that critical moment deciding win or loss, a perfect mindset is often what determines the outcome.
A small moment of carelessness was like a hidden landmine—it could explode in any race, destroying herself and the championship within reach.
Hearing Dream Weaver's response, her grandmother nodded in satisfaction. With her depth of experience, she could tell Dream Weaver had taken her advice to heart.
"Dinner can wait. Competing in a G1 race requires a Winner's Outfit. I've already prepared one for you."
As she spoke, she pointed to one of the portrait frames covered by a drape. Beneath it was an exquisite wooden box.
"Go on, take a look."
Dream Weaver nodded and walked over to the box, opening it.
Inside was a uniform reminiscent of a seventeenth-century European hussar's military attire. Unlike the bright colors originally used to distinguish allies on the battlefield, this outfit was primarily black, with only the double-breasted buttons adding a few sharp accents of gold.
On the right shoulder, a gold tasseled epaulette and shoulder strap secured a red, single-layer cape. The overall black, gold, and red color scheme exuded an immediate sense of awe and dominance.
Beneath the jacket lay a skirt of the same color, paired with black stockings. A pair of polished leather shoes and black silk gloves rested to the side.
Seeing that Dream Weaver had taken in the gift, Northern Grandmother spoke softly from behind.
"The Northern family's lineage traces back to Europe, so our generational winning outfits are modeled after European military formal wear from that era, slightly modified."
"The design of this winning outfit is the same as what your mother wore—only the colors have been changed to suit you better."
Hearing her words, Dream Weaver silently ran her fingers over the soft fabric in her hands.
Her mother? In this scripted world, of course, she had a mother. Grandmother likely gifted her this outfit to inspire her.
But…
In Dream Weaver's heart, only one being could truly be called "mother." Though Dancing Brave had been kind to her, Dream Weaver saw her only as a respected elder.
Because the word "mother" held an extremely special meaning for Dream Weaver.
Noting her silence, the grandmother assumed she was moved by memories evoked by the outfit and continued gently.
"And this red ribbon in your hair."
"Your mother gave it to you when you were very young—you might not remember—but it, too, was a gift from her."
Dream Weaver instinctively touched the red ribbon tied in her hair. An inexplicable sense of disgust welled up within her.
First, they monopolized her mother's name, and now they were trying to take even this red ribbon—a gift from her mother?
In that moment, Dream Weaver's irritation with this scripted world and the Northern family peaked. She almost wished she could complete all tasks immediately and return to reality, to her mother's bedside.
But that was impossible. The scripted world had only just begun; she hadn't completed a single task yet. How could she return?
In the end, Dream Weaver could only take a deep breath, trying to suppress the frustration swirling inside her. Holding the military-style winning outfit, she spoke with her back to her grandmother.
"Inheriting this… is also part of the Northern family's glory, isn't it?"
Her tone was utterly calm, so the grandmother suspected nothing and nodded in clear reply.
"Every generation of Northern family Uma Musume has taken to the track in such a winning outfit to claim their glory."
"I understand."
Dream Weaver paused before continuing.
"I will wear this outfit, defeat Narita Brian, and claim the glory of the Kikuka Shō."
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! 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!
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If you guys wanna check it out.