Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 65
Even as Hansel tried to escape, one side was blocked by his lips, the other by his arm. She couldn’t push him away either—touching him might provoke something far worse.
A quiet chuckle brushed past her ear as he lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Let’s sit for a bit before continuing. Looks like your legs are hurting—I’ve been pretty thoughtless, haven’t I?”
“……”
The werewolf straightened, withdrawing his arm without resistance. Standing upright, he glanced down at Hansel, who was huddled in on herself, and let out a small laugh.
“You smell nice, Princess.”
Hansel scowled. He was only teasing her, nothing more. That smug expression of his made it even more annoying.
Not that she had the strength to retaliate. He wasn’t wrong—just standing made her legs tremble.
Frustrated, Hansel bit her bottom lip. Meanwhile, the werewolf brushed the snow off a flat rock nearby, removed his coat, and spread it over the surface.
“Here, sit.”
He smiled, a simpler and more genuine smile than before.
“Women need to keep warm, you know.”
…Wait. Dante used to say something similar, didn’t he? Something about how warmth was important for planting seeds properly?
At any rate, her legs ached as if they were about to shatter, so Hansel reluctantly shuffled toward the rock. She perched cautiously on the very edge of his coat, as far from him as possible.
The werewolf exhaled a dry laugh.
“Do you dislike me that much?”
“Not so much dislike… just that you’re a bit unpleasant.”
“Oh?” His brow lifted, amused. “Then let me rephrase. Which part of me do you find unpleasant?”
“You were hitting on me just now. I don’t like guys who flirt with one girl while having their eye on another. Plus, I’m friends with the woman you’re interested in. So, I’d appreciate it if you respected some boundaries. Not that I think she’s all that into you…”
“Hmm.”
The werewolf’s lips curled into an enigmatic smile. Without a word, he settled down a good distance away from her. Sitting cross-legged with his chin propped on one hand, he stared openly at Hansel.
Even without looking, she could feel his gaze on the side of her head, but she stubbornly kept her eyes fixed on the dense forest ahead.
Strangely, sitting seemed to make her legs hurt even more, as if the pain she’d been holding off had decided to catch up all at once. She frowned and lightly patted her thighs when his voice drifted lazily toward her.
“Hey. Want to make a deal?”
That sly, teasing grin set Hansel’s defenses bristling like a hedgehog’s spines.
“Deals? Do werewolves even do that?”
“I’m not some stray dog—I used to belong to a master. You pick up a trick or two in even just three years.”
“Let’s hear the terms first.”
“Relax. All I’m saying is, let’s ask each other questions—trade information. You get the intel you want, and I get to know more about my ideal mate. Sounds fair, right?”
Before agreeing outright, Hansel weighed her options. What were the odds of her accidentally exposing her secret? She thought it over carefully and concluded that unless she said something incredibly foolish, she had little to lose. The werewolf seemed sloppier than her anyway.
“Fine, but I’ll go first.”
If she could ask only one question at a time, she needed to make it count. Something that could reveal as much as possible. Hansel fiddled with the hem of her skirt before glancing back at him.
“What exactly did you do to the master of the forest to make them hate you so much?”
“Deals are about giving as much as you get. Once you agree to that, I’ll tell you.”
“Fine. Now stop stalling and spill it.”
Her prodding made him smirk faintly. He hesitated, lips moving silently as if rehearsing his words, before reclining against the rock.
“It’s a long story,” he muttered to himself.
Then he began.
“You know about the master of the forest and how anyone whose name he calls dies, right?”
Hansel nodded faintly. Who didn’t know?
For Dante to kill someone with his curse, he had to know their name and face. If he thought of someone’s face while saying their name, they’d die—no matter the distance or location.
A single whisper in the bath could wipe out hundreds of lives. That was the terrifying power of Dante’s curse.
The werewolf laced his fingers behind his head, resting it against them as a makeshift pillow. His gaze drifted carelessly to the sky above.
“Do you know who the first person whose name he ever called?”
“…How would I know that?”
“His mother. The woman who gave birth to him.”
The werewolf’s words seeped into Hansel’s frozen ears, one chilling drop at a time.
