On the table lay two files containing the personal details and biographical notes of two people—Margaret Crowley and Henry Sullivan. Mother had sent them after she'd asked other Fables to look into their personal information.
I lifted my head and looked at the girl wearing a blue nightdress, "Mother said we deserve to know the real truth" she said before reaching for Margaret's documents.
"We actually know enough, don't we?" I replied, and the girl named Alice nodded slightly. However, my curiosity was hard to resist; my hand reached out and took Henry's documents before I finally opened them.
A lot of personal data was laid bare, but it didn't matter—my hand immediately turned to the page marked "Criminal Record." I glanced over at Alice, who was reading Margaret's file.
Henry Sullivan, a young man from a family that had once been successful before eventually going bankrupt, and from that day on he started looking for part-time work. Because he was quite clever, he chose to work as an accountant—to him, those were still innocent creatures and easy to deceive.
There was no clear evidence, but many parents had claimed that their children became different and strange after being taught by Henry. However, with his intelligence and brilliant acting skills, he managed to deceive all of London, and his bad reputation was never heard of again.
"A paedophile..." I muttered, clutching the document tightly before restraining my own hand from tearing the paper.
He deliberately set such a low fee so that parents could afford to pay him to teach their children.
It was just a criminal record—or perhaps more accurately, a deduction from one of Mother's trusted Fables; if she said this information was reliable, then it must be reliable. "Bloody hell…" I turned and saw Alice gritting her teeth; the paper crumpled instantly as her fingers pressed hard down upon it.
I walked towards her, but just then she slammed the paper down on the table. "Now I understand…" she muttered to herself in frustration. I was startled and slowly reached for the paper before starting to read it.
Margaret Crowley, a single parent raising her daughter, Rapunzel Crowley. She loved her daughter dearly, especially as her daughter shared almost identical features to her own—short auburn hair and dark eyes.
I glanced at the photograph showing little Rapunzel posing with her mother; even from a distance, one could tell they were mother and daughter.
They lived in harmony and simplicity, but everything changed one day whilst her daughter was playing with the other children. By the afternoon—when the other children had returned to their own homes—Rapunzel was still missing.
Panicked and worried, Margaret scoured the whole town, asking everyone she met about her daughter—only to find her lying lifeless in an alley.
She froze in shock, watching her only family member slip away, leaving her alone in this mortal world. The loss of her daughter hit her so hard that, little by little, she began to lose her sanity.
She then did something reckless and rash: she kidnapped a baby from another family and killed the child's parents—so that no one would search for the baby who would become her next daughter.
Margaret named the girl "Rapunzel" just like her previous daughter. She would not let the same thing happen again—which is why she locked Rapunzel away in her home for years; and if any human dared to approach her, Margaret would kill them on the spot.
After reading all that, my eyes could only stare in shock as I processed it all; I glanced at the notes left by Fables containing this information. "I hope you're satisfied with this information, as I spent quite some time pieced all this together — S.H."
As I put the paper back, a trembling voice called out to me, "You already know all this, don't you, Red?" I turned and saw Alice, her fists clenched as if she were ready to strike me at any moment.
I didn't answer for a moment before finally admitting, "I only have a hunch" I said, and upon hearing that, Alice stepped closer and grabbed the collar of my pyjama top.
"If so, why didn't you tell me?!" she asked sternly; she wasn't just angry that I hadn't told her, but disappointed because she felt I didn't trust her enough.
"Even if I did tell you, would you believe me?" I asked, and before she could reply, I cut in and added, "You didn't even believe that strange figure that appeared in my room!"
Hearing that, her eyes widened in shock and her grip loosened slightly. With a hint of hesitation, she asked, "...Since when have you been suspicious?"
"Ever since she mentioned her name," I said, and that shocked Alice even more—I admit I am a bit of a fool, and she knows I am—the fact that I'd realised it so quickly would have surprised anyone.
"I'm... lying to you," I began, and recalled the moment we first met Rapunzel, back when we were communicating via notes. "At that time, she didn't say she was pleased to meet us."
"But she said that…"
"My name is Rapunzel, yet I've always felt that name belonged to someone else."