Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 8
The hand choking her neck loosened.
Hansel gasped desperately for air, her wide eyes meeting his unusually crimson gaze.
She didn’t want to die. Not like this.
After all, weren’t men predictable in what they wanted? Even the wolf whose life she had saved had behaved that way, not to mention the dozen or so hunters who had shown up afterward. She hadn’t known the Witch of the Gingerbread House was male, but at this point, perhaps that was for the better.
This man, as stoic and impenetrable as a statue, was no different. No matter what she said, he had looked ready to crush her with his fingers alone—until she said she’d do something for him. Then, he’d stopped immediately.
Despite her fear, so chilling it felt like it reached her bones, she almost wanted to laugh. Hansel bit down hard on her lower lip, suppressing the urge to smirk.
The man who had been staring intently at her finally spoke, his voice low and quiet.
“Why would you do that?”
“…Huh?”
Hansel blinked in confusion at the completely unexpected question.
For the first time, his expression showed a hint of interest. Yet it wasn’t the typical reaction Hansel expected from a man.
It was more like the curious and innocent eyes of a child discovering a new toy they didn’t know existed, brimming with unrestrained wonder and curiosity.
His hand gradually loosened its grip on her neck.
“Suck my c**k? What does that even mean?”
“W-What…?”
“And who are you?”
He sat down abruptly in front of her, one knee raised, his posture surprisingly elegant. Tilting his head to the side, his crimson eyes glinted with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion.
“You have magical items, but you’re not a mage. You asked me to save you, and you made a proposition I’ve never heard before. You’re the first person to do any of that.”
Hansel, still clutching his sleeve, swallowed dryly.
“Who are you?”
The way he asked made it clear he could choke her again at any moment. Instinct told her she wouldn’t survive a second time. She needed to answer properly this time.
“I… I don’t know.”
Her voice was raspy as she muttered the words.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t remember. That’s why I don’t know what you’re asking about. My name, why I’m here… things like that.”
Hansel remembered an old saying: If you’re going to lie, make it outrageous. A simple, poorly thought-out lie would only reveal its cracks, but an absurd story might confuse someone enough to believe it.
The theory seemed to hold some truth. He narrowed his eyes, skeptical but curious.
“You claim you’re smart, knowledgeable, good at cooking, cleaning… and even… that. How can you know all that if you don’t remember anything else?”
It was a sharp question, but Hansel raised her chin defiantly. When lying, confidence was key.
“I just know.”
“…Hah.”
He let out a dry laugh, as if baffled by her audacity.
“I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I? I don’t know how I know—it’s ridiculous, but it’s true. So I can’t explain it.”
She met his incredulous stare head-on. Would he believe such an outrageous claim? Probably not. But what choice did she have? Showing doubt now would only make things worse.
The tense silence stretched between them like a taut string, every second dragging on like eternity. Finally, after scrutinizing her face for what felt like forever, he narrowed one eye.
“You don’t know your own name…”
Hansel swallowed hard.
The Witch of the Gingerbread House’s power was tied to names. Simply saying a person’s name could kill them instantly, regardless of distance or circumstances. The only condition was that the witch must have seen their face before.
If the witch knew both a person’s name and face, they could kill hundreds while lounging in a bath. This was what made the Witch of the Gingerbread House so terrifying.
Waiting for his reaction, every second felt like an eternity. Hansel’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest.
At last, he seemed to reach a conclusion. He withdrew his hand completely and, staring down at Hansel, spoke softly.
“Alright then. Prove it to me. Do it.”
“Do what?”
“If you’re as good as you say, I’ll believe you.”
Her mind reeled. Though she was knowledgeable about carnal matters in theory, she had no practical experience.
Hansel tried to calm herself.
This is better than being ravaged by beasts or killed by multiple men, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s asking for something worse.
‘I can do this. Just get it done and over with.’
