Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 81
II-III. Strange Clock
The winter sunlight gently caressed Hansel’s sleeping cheek. Stirred by the soft touch, Hansel slowly opened her eyes.
Consciousness seeped into her mind like a watercolor painting. She felt her body sinking into the plush comfort of the bed, the result of a peaceful sleep she couldn’t recall falling into.
As her eyes fluttered open, the sight of cloud-like bedding and a sunlit room greeted her. Perhaps because it was late winter, the clear sunlight filtering through the glass carried a hint of spring. Hansel stared blankly at the ceiling of the bedroom.
I told Dante that I liked him. Finally.
I won’t run away anymore. As long as I don’t tell him my name, it’ll be fine.
I’ll stay here, have Dante’s children, and live a simple, happy life. Baking bread, looking at sheep…
Her heart felt as light as a feather. Like clouds—soft and fluffy.
It was so quiet it felt as if no one else was around. Silent. Peaceful.
Silent? Peaceful?
A jolt of realization struck her like lightning. Hansel bolted upright, her long platinum hair cascading down her back in a flurry.
“…Dante?”
Dante was gone.
He wasn’t by the bed. Nor was he anywhere else in the room.
When he clung to her like a burr, it had been annoying and stifling. But now, waking up to find him gone, a wave of unease washed over her. Where did he go? Why isn’t he here?
“Dante! Where are you?”
Hansel hurriedly slipped out of bed.
Maybe he went to bake bread? Or to hang laundry in the garden? Or to the bathroom, perhaps…
She shuffled across the bedroom in her soft woolen slippers, her steps quick and light. Throwing the door open, she was met with the sight of the living room.
The fireplace quietly crackled with burning logs. A cloud-like pale pink carpet and a sky-blue leather sofa filled the room. Like the other rooms, the living room was colorful and whimsical, like a house from a fairy tale.
It wasn’t as if this was her first time seeing the living room.
Yet, Hansel froze at the threshold, unable to step inside.
“……!”
The scene before her was horrifyingly out of place against the cozy backdrop of the charming living room. Everything in her field of vision slammed into her consciousness with the force of a hammer.
A beat later, her legs began to tremble violently.
“Ghhk…”
A man’s groan of pain echoed.
Then, she saw the bloodstains smeared across the pale pink carpet.
And Dante, standing there.
In his hand was a man’s head.
Should she feel relieved it wasn’t a severed head? She couldn’t decide.
The man knelt on the ground, his head gripped firmly in Dante’s hand.
Hansel knew that man all too well.
Dark hair tinged with blue. Sun-kissed skin. Golden eyes filled with pain beneath thick brows.
The werewolf.
He gripped Dante’s wrist tightly, as if trying to pry his hand off his hair. But of course, Dante didn’t budge an inch.
He looked vastly different from when Hansel had seen him in the forest a few days ago. From head to toe, he was a mess. Blood trickled down his forehead, and his swollen cheeks and split lips bore evidence of a severe beating.
Most horrifyingly, his left eye was a black, gaping void, as if someone had gouged it out. Blood had streaked down from the empty socket, staining one side of his face in a grotesque pattern.
Hansel barely managed to suppress the urge to retch at the sickening sight.
“D-Dante. What… what is this…?”
Her trembling voice barely made it out.
Dante, who had been staring down at the werewolf, finally turned to look at Hansel.
He was as calm as ever. Apart from the droplets of blood on his pale cheeks, he looked exactly the same. His expression was as serene as usual, and his crimson eyes seemed even softer than normal. Upon seeing Hansel, his gaze melted further.
“You slept a little longer today.”
His tone was so tranquil it felt surreal, like a casual morning greeting. Hansel was at a loss for words and shut her mouth.
What in the world is going on here?
Dante gripped the werewolf’s hair even tighter and lifted him slightly, as if presenting his catch to Hansel.
The werewolf groaned, a pained sound slipping through his teeth. Dante, with a faintly smug expression, showed off his prize to Hansel.
“I caught him. This morning.”
He seemed to expect praise, like a hunting dog proudly presenting its kill to its master.
But Hansel’s palms grew clammy with tension instead.
Her gaze darted away from Dante to the werewolf, and their golden eyes met.
The werewolf looked utterly bewildered.
Why are you here?
It was written all over his face.
And it made sense. There was no way he could have imagined that the Arsinoe he met in the forest would be in Dante Herodt’s house.
But now wasn’t the time to explain, nor could she even begin to.
Hansel averted her gaze, unable to hold his.
Hansel did her best to hide her alarm and nodded repeatedly at Dante.
“Y-Yeah, you did great. Going out in the morning and catching him… so diligent and amazing, my Dante! But…”
“Proud of him? Don’t tell me you actually… ugh!”
The werewolf tried to shout in protest, but Dante cut him off by tossing him to the floor. The heavy THUD! made Hansel flinch. Then Dante pressed his foot lightly on the werewolf’s head to keep it down.
