Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 55
Hansel wasn’t like Dante. She wasn’t the one changing her mind about ‘killing’ someone—rather, she was the one whose life was spared thanks to that change of heart.
Because of that, the more appealing the offer, the less she could trust it outright.
“I… I can’t believe you when you say you won’t kill me. You don’t like me—you like that I’ll suck your c**k or let you f**k me.”
Hansel blurted the words without hesitation. Dante frowned slightly, his large hand moving to idly scratch the back of his neck.
“…I don’t understand.”
On the day he first saw her, it was true he’d thought he should kill her. And now, it was true that he didn’t want to anymore. Yes, he enjoyed it when she sucked him off or when he buried himself inside her. He also liked baking bread with her, eating meals with their hands. In essence, whatever he did with her, he enjoyed.
The things they did together were enjoyable. Those things were only done with her. Therefore, Dante liked Hansel. What other meaning could there be? He couldn’t understand what she was implying.
“Then what if I stop doing the things that make your c**k feel good? Would you still not kill me?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I don’t even know who I am. What if I turn out to be one of those Arsinoes?”
“You’re not. You’re not a mage.”
“……”
“And because I don’t like the idea of you not being here. So, I won’t kill you.”
Hansel squeezed her eyes shut as a headache began to pound at her temples. How easy it would be if she could think and feel as simply as he did. If something was good, it was good—if it wasn’t, it wasn’t. But she couldn’t manage to be that straightforward no matter how hard she tried.
“I like you. You’re already mine.”
“You don’t even know who I am…”
How could you like me?
Hansel swallowed her retort, the words sinking into the pit of her stomach like stones. A bitter ache lingered at the back of her teeth.
If they continued this conversation, it would inevitably keep circling back, always slightly misaligned. There was no point in continuing. Hansel chose not to ask any more questions.
And with that, their conversation came to an end.
***
Would he kill me if my identity was revealed, or wouldn’t he?
Hansel crouched on the bed, her wide eyes flickering with thought. Her loose platinum hair spilled over her small shoulders and down her back.
Since their conversation in the kitchen hours earlier, the balance in her mind had swung back and forth like a precarious scale.
He said he hated mages, so the chances were high he’d kill her. Whatever agreement the Arsinoe family had with Dante, it clearly wasn’t friendly. Otherwise, why would he kill mages with such relentless hatred?
So the likelihood of her being killed if her identity was discovered was much higher. And even if she gained magical power through s*x with him, the same outcome was likely. But then again… he did say he liked her and wouldn’t kill her because he didn’t want her gone. If gaining magic was a result of being with him, wouldn’t that increase the odds he’d spare her?
The scales tipped back and forth. The side weighted by his fondness for her, and the one burdened by his hatred of mages. Which side outweighed the other in Dante’s heart?
‘Maybe I should try even harder to please him?’
If her identity were ever exposed, she could ensure his fondness for her outweighed his hatred and tipped the scales in her favor.
From their past conversations, one thing was clear: Dante was fiercely protective of what he considered his. If she acted as though she accepted being ‘his’, she could gain more time.
And during that time, she could find the right moment to escape. It would be devastating to see her efforts up until now go to waste, but survival was more important than anything.
Hansel resolved herself to this plan just as the door creaked open and Dante entered the bedroom.
Hansel turned her head to see Dante standing at the threshold, neither entering nor leaving. His arms were slightly lifted, and he wore an indecipherable expression. He stayed there, motionless for a few moments. Hansel tilted her head, puzzled. What now?
Dante furrowed his brow slightly.
“Why aren’t you coming?”
“…Ah.”
It hit her. Every time Dante entered the room, she’d usually run to him and greet him with a hug. But after their grim conversation about life and death, she had momentarily forgotten.
Hansel awkwardly climbed off the bed. The emotional distance created by their earlier exchange, combined with the lapse in routine, made running to him and embracing him feel strange now.
With a reluctant air, she shuffled toward him. Though she moved within arm’s reach, Dante didn’t lower his outstretched arms or make any move to hug her first.
He stood there silently, waiting for Hansel to approach first. Only when she initiated the hug could he return it. That was the only way he had learned to embrace someone—Hansel had taught him that.
