Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 93
The difference in their abilities was overwhelming. As a fellow mage, Gretel could instinctively sense it. A fellow mage? No, it wasn’t right to describe him that way. He was a being beyond such comparisons. The only reason Gretel hadn’t fallen to her knees was that she was paralyzed by sheer terror.
As she stood frozen like a deer with its neck caught in a lion’s jaws, Hansel reached out and pulled down Dante’s arm, which was blocking her view.
“Dante. Stop it. She’s not dangerous. She’s my younger sister.”
Whether it was her sister or not didn’t matter to Dante. He likely didn’t even understand what that meant. Still, his narrowed eyes were fixed on Gretel with clear displeasure.
“Dante, please, okay?” Hansel urged gently.
As soon as the short command fell, the oppressive atmosphere that had weighed down the area like a swamp dispersed.
Gretel collapsed to the ground as if freed from invisible shackles. Her cream-colored dress fluttered softly as her wobbly legs gave out.
Dante continued to stare at Gretel, unimpressed.
“She hit you.”
“It didn’t hurt that much.”
“She called you a stupid idiot and a jerk.”
“Well, I mean…”
“She even called you a moron.”
“……”
That wasn’t a loaded statement… was it?
Gretel alternated her gaze between Hansel and Dante, disbelief written all over her face.
The man was terrifying just from the sheer aura radiating off him, yet here he was, gazing at her older sister with the devotion of a well-trained dog.
This man was, without a doubt, in love.
It was as if he’d been dipped head to toe into a vat of love, saturated until every pore dripped with affection. Even from afar, it felt as if he was wagging an invisible tail.
What… is this?
“Step away from my daughters, Herodt!”
A shrill cry shattered the tension, causing all three to turn their heads simultaneously.
At the edge of the garden, a woman with platinum blonde hair elegantly styled into an updo was charging toward them. Margaret Arsinoe, Hansel’s mother, renowned for her icy, impassive demeanor, looked anything but calm.
Grasping her dress with one hand and raising the other, gloved and etched with a magical sigil, Margaret launched an attack at Dante.
An ice arrow materialized in the air and shot toward him. However, her magic dissolved into harmless specks of dust before it even got close. It was as though no magic could reach the two standing together. The spell dissipated without a trace.
Gretel’s jaw dropped.
Mother’s magic was nullified? That shouldn’t be possible. There was no one under the heavens capable of such a thing.
Who was this man? What on earth had her sister done during her time away to bring back someone so extraordinary?
Meanwhile, Dante observed the unfolding situation with the calm detachment of someone watching a mildly interesting show from afar.
Margaret, biting her lip, strode closer toward Hansel and Dante. She stopped directly in front of them and fixed Dante with a fierce glare, her icy blue eyes seeming capable of freezing the very air between them.
“If you seek vengeance, take it out on me. Leave my innocent daughters alone, Herodt.”
Gretel glanced between Margaret and Dante, utterly confused. Margaret, still glaring at Dante, issued a sharp command to Gretel.
“Gretel. Come behind me.”
Gretel scrambled to her feet and quickly hid behind Margaret. With that, Margaret turned her ice-cold gaze toward Hansel.
“Come here, Hansel. I will protect you, so don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not going to go to you, Mother.”
Margaret’s finely arched brows twitched. Hansel, gripping Dante’s hand, spoke with unwavering conviction.
“Dante would never hurt me.”
“You… How do you know that name…?”
“Because he’s my man.”
“…What?”
Hansel stepped slightly aside, still holding Dante’s hand, and faced her mother directly. Her voice dropped to a steady murmur.
“Dante Herodt. He’s the man who will be my husband, Mother.”
A sound like shattering glass filled the air. It was unclear whether only Margaret heard it, or if everyone in the Arsinoe manor’s garden did.
But one thing was certain—the sound marked a moment no one present would soon forget.
