A carriage traveled along a gravel road at a moderate pace. Though seemingly ordinary, its polished wood, gleaming wheels, and immaculate condition marked its owners as well-to-do.
The surrounding vegetation was lush and vibrant, a serene contrast to the occasional bustle of other travelers.
Carriages of all sorts passed by—some humble, some grand, some ornate. Unicycles and bicycles clattered over the stones, and, in this era of innovation, rudimentary "modern vehicles" emitted clouds of dust and fumes as they rumbled past. Despite this, the air remained surprisingly clean, the forests flanking the road acting as natural purifiers.
Soon, the carriage approached a large stone gate, more akin to a city entrance than a mere toll. Soldiers, fully armed and vigilant, inspected and regulated all who passed.
A short, slightly obese soldier ran toward the carriage, armor clanking as he struggled to move with agility.
"Haah! G-good afternoon, my lady!" he wheezed, stopping at the window.
A calm, cold hum of acknowledgment came from inside. "Is he around?"
"Ah? Oh… him? I-I'm sorry, my lady. The captain is back in town, but his shift won't start until this evening," the soldier stammered, recovering surprisingly quickly.
"I see… perfect, then," the lady replied, her tone tinged with a hint of joy—enough to make the soldier shiver, his armor rattling slightly.
"Well, then… give him this, and tell him the little rabbit I've been keeping now has a… guardian wolf," she added, her voice trailing as if unsure of the exact phrasing.
An aged, pale hand extended from the window, dropping a pouch. The soldier fumbled to catch it, the coins inside clinking noisily. He saluted, stuttering, "Y-yes! I will tell him, my lady!"
"Good," she said. The driver urged the horses onward, and soon the carriage disappeared beyond the gate.
The soldier scurried to deliver the message to his captain, who could be found at one location above all others: Tavern.
Dominic felt the surging tide of emotions recede within the future princess in his arms. The instinct to protect and possess her intensified with each passing second.
In my past life, I punished those who harmed her… I dare not imagine what I would do now if anyone so much as touched a hair on her head…
His icy blue eyes flickered, pupils narrowing for a heartbeat before returning to normal. The air around him bristled with subtle danger. Cinderella, feeling it, stiffened slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips. Dominic quickly quelled his emotions, setting her down.
She kept her head bowed, gripping the edges of her dress with both hands, ears tinged pink.
"P-please…" she murmured.
"Hmm?" Dominic tilted his head, surprised by her sudden vulnerability.
"Please… I apologize for my family's actions, and beg your forgiveness for how they treated you," Cinderella said, still not meeting his gaze.
Dominic was momentarily taken aback, then allowed a small sigh to escape. This girl… her heart…
Cinderella's kindness, her belief that even small gestures could make the world better, was unmistakable. It was precisely what made her a true princess. He couldn't help but smile gently, though his eyes remained as cold as ice beneath it.
This side of you, I will protect with my entire being… even if it means bathing in the blood of your enemies and reducing those who dare harm you to ashes with my dragon fire.
Stepping forward, he lifted her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. There she saw him, majestic and overwhelming, yet with a gentle smile that felt like warmth in the dead of winter.
His icy blue eyes stared deep into hers, reminiscent of the harshest winter winds—but not directed at her, and yet weighted with an intent she couldn't comprehend.
Ugh… my lord… Her inner voice trembled as she quivered internally like a caterpillar, torn between awe, fear, and anticipation.
"Ella," Dominic called softly, breaking her thoughts. She focused on him, fear not for herself but for the world that would face his wrath. She didn't want her family harmed—nor anyone else—but she also knew she couldn't stop destiny from unfolding.
"You have nothing to apologize for regarding your family. I won't harm them… this time."
But should anyone threaten you… may they pray to their gods for mercy, for none will be granted, he concluded silently, eyes darkening slightly.
Cinderella nodded, conflicted for a moment, then yielded. She respected his autonomy, even if it meant he might act ruthlessly in the future. Yet she couldn't help wondering: why him?
Why was such a magnificent, lordly man so concerned with her? She was nothing—an orphan, a servant girl in a scullery maid uniform.
Before she could question further, Dominic withdrew his hand, returning to his usual composure. "Now, how about we carry on with our tour?" he asked with a small smile.
"Uh… sure," she replied, absentmindedly nodding.
Dominic's eyes scanned her current attire. Though he had no objection to maids, the outfit was unsuitable for a day of proper enjoyment.
His mind lit up:
Eureka!
"Come with me," he said, taking her hand and dashing into a nearby dark alley.
"Wha?!" Cinderella attempted to resist, but her body betrayed her. Fufu~ where is master taking us~? her inner voice cooed.
Dominic stopped, scanning the surroundings. "Here is good," he said, catching his breath. The alley was dark but reasonably clean—perfect for a discreet spell.
Despite the mundane exterior, Dominic's heart surged. He would dress a princess today—not literally, yet through magic, it would be as if a fantasy he had long imagined came to life.
Cinderella's heart raced, emotions swirling: fear, sadness, betrayal… and a twinge of something she refused to acknowledge.
Dominic turned to her with a small mischevious smile. "Tell me, Ella… do you believe in magic?"
"Huh?" She blinked, utterly blank.
The suddenness of everything was almost too much for the late teen to comprehend. She thought he had dragged her into this dark alley to… to… well, never mind, though she was grateful that it hadn't come to pass.
Not that she would have wanted her first "magical" experience in such a horrid place—she would have preferred something romantic…
Still, if he wanted…
No! Bad Cindy! Bad!
She shook her head, cheeks burning red, unsure of what to say.
"…Come again, Dominic?" she asked softly.
Dominic sensed the chaos of her emotions—fear, embarrassment, anticipation—and, taking responsibility for stirring them, repeated his question with gentle patience.
"I asked… do you believe in magic, Ella?"
She thought for a moment. "If it had been before, I wouldn't have known what to say. But… meeting you? That is kind of magical. So… yes. I do believe in magic."
Her life had been one of misery, even if she had never given up hope. Many times she had wished to be whisked away from the hell she called home. Now, here she was, with a man her imagination could never have conjured. That's why she hadn't even bothered to question if it was all a dream—she simply believed.
A small smile played at Dominic's lips. He stepped closer, taking her hand with careful gentleness. "I have a small gift for you before we enjoy the day. Close your eyes, please."
Though unsure, she obeyed.
He channeled his magic carefully, his core humming softly as it responded to his will. The tattered maid uniform she wore began to shimmer, weave, and reform under the touch of his power.
A pale, icy-blue aura danced across her form, caressing her from head to toe, as though the very air itself had grown sentient. Satin-like threads wrapped around her arms, jewels adorned her waist, and a delicate fabric floated around her like mist. Each strand of hair, every curve of her figure, was gently traced and enhanced by the magic, settling finally into a vision of elegance that seemed to glow from within.
For Cinderella, the sensation was indescribable. It was more than warmth or comfort—it was magic in its purest sense. Her mind whirled with wonder and awe, deepening the mysterious pull she felt toward the man before her.
Then came the subtle shift in texture against her skin. Shoes—transparent and delicate—hugged her feet perfectly. Hairpins, a single falling bang, earrings, and a small ring completed the ensemble.
"Open your eyes," Dominic said softly.
When she did, the sight stole her breath. She thought she believed in magic metaphorically… but here, it was tangible. The dress flowed with elegance, soft and fragrant, catching the light in a way that made every motion graceful. Her flats sparkled as if spun from glass, yet fit comfortably.
"I… I…" Her words failed her.
"Don't be like that. Come on. Let's go get something to eat and enjoy the day," he said, linking his arm with hers and guiding her out of the alley.
He hadn't altered her dress too radically—just enough to suit the era and occasion. Light blue with satin sleeves, gold embroidery, jeweled accents at the waist, and glass-like flats reminiscent of fairy tales. A butterfly-shaped hairpin held back her hair, a single lock left to frame her face. Her shoulders were bare, showing her pale, delicate skin. The subtle accessories completed her regal, enchanting appearance.
She looked stunning.
Finally finding her voice, she asked, "You just did magic, didn't you?"
"Yep."
"So… you're a magician?"
"Nope."
"Then… what are you?"
"I can tell you what I am not."
"Oh? And that is?"
"I am not Prince Charming."
She blinked, then giggled at his tone. "Okay, good sir… you're better."
"Precisely," he said, smirking with pride. Together, they walked back into the streets, drawing smiles and murmurs of admiration from passersby. Cinderella, unused to such attention, tugged gently at her dress.
"The dress…" she whispered.
"Fret not. It will last longer than just until midnight." He winked.
Dominic laughed softly. "Now, please, take us to somewhere we can get a snack."
Her belly betrayed her with a cute growl, and she blushed, lowering her gaze. "…I… know a place…"
"Haha! That was adorable." Dominic couldn't suppress his smile.
Lowering her head in shame, she bolted. Dominic chased, teasing and tickling her, their laughter echoing as they ran. Eventually, they arrived at a small shop selling pies, enjoying both the treats and the company of one another, forgetting the world outside.
==
The tavern was nearly empty in the quiet morning hours. Near the window, at one of the worn wooden tables, sat a large, burly man. His thick black hair and bushy beard framed a face that could barely be seen beneath their weight, yet there was no hint of age in the midnight-black strands.
He wore a short-sleeved red-and-yellow shirt that showcased his muscular arms, sinewy and strong like twisted roots sunk deep into the earth. A man of such build could have drawn the attention of any woman—but in his heart, he desired only one.
Her long, chestnut hair flowed as she bent over her books, eyes glowing with the intelligent curiosity he had come to adore. Belle.
The sight of her made him sigh deeply, his ale serving as a poor substitute for the fire that surged within him. He tried to recall, even now, how he had ended up so far from home—an exile, hunted, forced to wander like a foreigner.
He took another deliberate gulp of ale, and the memories came rushing back. That night—the night after the war had ended, their side victorious—he had returned home with hope in his heart. The streets had been alive with celebration; men cheering, laughter echoing in the air. He, too, had reveled in the moment.
Before the war, settling down had never crossed his mind. But the war had changed him, hardened him, and made him wonder: who would be the woman to bear his children, to raise his strong and handsome sons?
Ah… Belle.
The name alone was enough to stop his breath. Her image burned itself into his mind, clearer than ever before. He wanted her. Not as a fleeting fancy, not as one conquest among many—he wanted her, entirely. That desire sparked like a flame in his chest, impossible to ignore, impossible to quench.
Returning from battle with his fellow soldiers, he had stopped to rest and consider a gift for her. A dress, perhaps, for women loved gifts. Flowers? But they would wither before reaching her. Yes—a dress would do.
Yet fate, as it often did, intervened.
A hooded figure appeared, promising goods "out of this world." He followed, curious, to a caravan filled with strange and exotic items: a rose encased in glass, a glowing red apple that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, lamps of every shape and size, and ordinary objects—a spindle, needles, a small mirror—mixed in with the extraordinary.
The figure reappeared, holding an unassuming brown book.
At first, he scowled. A book? Was this some insult? Did the merchant think he had the sensibilities of a scholar?
But then the words the hooded figure had spoken returned to him: "Why not for someone else? Anyone who loves to read will feel the magic hidden in its pages… and perhaps grant you a chance."
Belle.
Images of her in the small town library flooded his mind—her enthusiasm, her fascination with every word, every story. A smile tugged at his lips despite himself. He took the book and the dress, understanding instantly how to reach her.
When he returned, he set to work with his own subtle charm. She resisted—songs, flowers, even the dress itself—but he played the game with skill, teasing, coaxing, and drawing her in.
Then he played his ultimate card: her love of books.
He presented the book to her, watching her eyes widen in shock and delight. They shone like stars in the daylight, her smile etching itself into his memory. When she whispered, "Thank you," he knew he had succeeded.
But that night—just that night, after celebrating his first victory—the darkness came.
It hunted him.