It took less than half an hour for a woman to arrive; without knocking, she pushed the door open and walked straight in. She tossed her pink hair back and the click of her heels echoed throughout the room. "Mira! I'm so glad you're here—come this way," Mother gestured for the woman to follow her.
The two of them then went into the guest room. "What sort of emergency could possibly have made you beg me for help like that?" Her blue eyes immediately locked onto the shirtless man lying there unconscious. "Oh?"
"This man has been poisoned in the stomach—can you heal him?" Mother asked, her face radiating great hope; Mirabelle's gaze swept across the room and fell upon a girl sitting there with her mouth agape and flushed cheeks.
Realising she had been staring for too long, she quickly looked away; Mirabelle smiled and ran a hand through her ash-blonde hair. "Just enjoy my beauty—that's only natural," she said, pulling her hand away before walking over to the bed.
Snow uttered a hesitant sound, but Mirabelle paid her no mind, her hand immediately reaching for the blistered skin—soon, a pinkish glow appeared and a short while later Romeo's eyes began to open slowly.
Mirabelle's hand then let go, and she watched as the man woke up and sat up in bed. "Huh, I… I don't feel that burning sensation in my stomach anymore," he lifted his head and saw a woman he didn't recognise standing near him. "You…?"
Mirabelle, seeing that he was awake and had been saved, immediately turned and began to walk out. "You owe me a debt of gratitude," she said as her heels clicked outside the room; Romeo, who'd just woken up, was still bewildered by what had happened.
"Thank you, Mira! I'm so indebted to you!" Mother called out before the woman left her house, her green eyes immediately glancing at Romeo beside her. "Are you all right?"
Romeo nodded, and the scar slowly began to fade. "She's one of the Fables with healing powers, isn't she?" Mother glanced back and saw a hand puppet, dressed in a blue nightcap, being played with by Snow.
The doll's tiny hand adjusted his glasses, though they weren't in any danger of falling off as they were sewn onto the side of his head. "Not quite right," Mother replied with a slight chuckle; all the worry that had weighed on her shoulders had now vanished.
"Her ability is to charm; she can charm anything—do I need to repeat that? ANYTHING," she emphasised, though it wasn't really necessary; the two Fables who were listening intently were taken aback. "What she just did was charm the poison inside Romeo's body to stop it from harming him."
Snow's mouth and the doll she was holding both fell open at the same time, before the doll finally spoke. "Goodness me, that's an extraordinary power! Too extraordinary, really—having a Fable like that working with you must be a huge advantage, isn't it?" Romeo nodded vigorously, leaving Mother to let out an awkward laugh.
"You're not wrong, but she's not working with me."
"Huh?! Why?"
"Because she doesn't want to work for anyone else; she'd rather pursue a career as a singer," she said, folding her arms and glancing towards the doorway where the woman they'd been talking about had just walked out. "I've tried to persuade her in every way imaginable, but it hasn't worked—she's not the sort of person to change her mind easily."
A long silence filled the room before being broken by a soft cough from Mother. "Well, even so, that doesn't mean she might not change her mind—the important thing now is that I'm glad you're safe!" Romeo nodded happily; he'd only known Mother for less than a month, yet she'd been treating him as though they'd known each other for years.
"Thank you, Mother, and thank you too, Snow!" Romeo glanced at the girl standing behind the woman, who was smiling broadly at this heart-warming moment and didn't seem to have heard Romeo's words. "Oh, right! On the way here, you said something to me, didn't you? I'm sorry, but I've forgotten what you said."
Those words had only just reached his ears and instantly made him sit up straight; he avoided eye contact for a moment before thrusting his hand puppet towards them both to cover his face. "I apologise for my rudeness. My name's Slate—and I'll tell you what Snow wanted to say but couldn't," said the puppet wearing glasses.
Another puppet wearing a yellow nightcap appeared from her left, "Please just look at us, will you! Because Snow will literally freeze solid if you look at her—oh, right, my name's Jasper!" said the other puppet; Mother and I nodded at the same time—and unexpectedly, Mother's hands reached out and stroked the dwarf's head.
Snow flinched, causing both dolls to fall silent at once, before Slate finally replied. "Mother, you really are so caring—sometimes I wonder where that comes from," he said, and Mother responded with a soft chuckle.
"We're ready whenever you are," Mother said, sitting down at the foot of the bed, ready to listen to a story from Snow—or, more accurately, from the two dolls in her hands. "And there's no pressure."
It all goes back a year ago, when Snow lived in a small cabin deep in the woods alongside seven real dwarves—not mere creations, but living beings with blood truly flowing through their veins.
They all lived happily without any sorrow to truly spoil their days—the melodious song of the birds had truly become their morning greeting, and playing with the forest animals was a daily routine. However, this world is not one where every story ends happily ever after, for not long after Snow had grown accustomed to this routine—an old woman came knocking at the door.
The old woman pleaded pitifully with the girl to buy her apples; feeling sorry for her, Snow, without a second thought, immediately took eight apples at once—one for herself and seven for her dwarves—and the old woman looked very happy and grateful when she was given the money, though she didn't realise that it was the last of the money Snow had.
When the old woman had gone, Snow, feeling bored, decided to eat the apples she had neatly arranged on a large plate—the moment she swallowed one, an excruciating pain stabbed her stomach. "Mngh—ugh…" The door burst open shortly afterwards, and a woman in a black dress—matching her hair, which had purple highlights—entered.
"You... are... Mum?" She tried to speak, but her body was already lying on the bed; she tried desperately to stay conscious—yet the woman, named Miralda, sat on the bed as if nothing had happened.
"Oh, don't call me that—we aren't even related by blood," she admired her own fingers before her purple eyes glanced at the poor girl lying there, unable to fight back. "You know, your presence always disgusts me—just because people think you're prettier than me really annoys me."
From outside came the sound of more than one pair of footsteps, "Snow, why have you left the door open—" The dwarves, who had just returned from mining, were startled to see Miralda and their dear friend, whose mouth had begun to ooze venom. "WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SNOW?!"
"Don't force me to hurt this girl any further," she said, standing up and looking at the seven dwarves who stood on guard, pickaxes clenched in their hands—all their eyes fixed on her. "Heh, from now on, I'll be the most beautiful woman in the world." Without warning, a green smoke enveloped her, completely shrouding her.
When the green smoke dissipated—Miralda, who'd been behind it, had vanished too—the dwarves immediately rushed over to Snow, who lay unconscious; they tried to rouse her, but she showed not the slightest response.
Tears began to flow, and they clutched Snow's fingers very tightly—hope began to fade from their eyes, and they could only resign themselves to accepting the fate that lay before them. Yet, unbeknownst to them, their bodies began to glow white; they all screamed in shock, and little by little, their already diminutive bodies grew even smaller.
Snow opened her eyes slowly and saw her cabin, which was far quieter than usual; no sound of birds or other animals reached her ears—her blue eyes glanced down at her hands, and her jaw dropped at the sight before her. All her dwarf friends had turned into dolls that could no longer speak to them as they once had.
"It's… it's all my fault. It's all because I was born beautiful," Snow sobbed. The two dolls were no longer clutched in her hands—they sat neatly, hugging her knees tightly. "If only I'd had an ordinary face—none of this would have happened."
Without warning, Mother rushed over and hugged the girl with her low twin-tailed ponytail tightly; the embrace was so tight that the girl jerked in surprise—the snot on her nose almost fell but she pulled it back. Mother stroked her back gently and affectionately.
"I can take Miralda's place, but I won't behave like her—I swear."