Ever since Baobhan Sith could remember, she had always been bullied and ridiculed by her fellow fairies—her own kind—simply because her legs were different from theirs.
Even so, she still thought they cared for her. They hadn't abandoned her, after all. At least, that's what she wanted to believe.
"You're so weird."
"Why are your legs so strange…?"
"Right, what's her name again?"
"Bhaban Shree?"
"No, the red-haired deer."
"No, no—that's wrong. She says her name is Baobhan Sith."
"Oh, that's it. Still weird though."
"That's normal."
"Because Baobhan Sith is a monster."
"I–I'm not… I…"
Baobhan Sith wanted to protest, but her tongue tangled on itself.
She was terrified. Why? Why couldn't she speak more beautifully, or more confidently? Why couldn't she defend herself like the others?
Surrounded by the sneering faces of her kin, Baobhan Sith swallowed the panic that clawed at her throat and tried to speak calmly—to talk seriously, like one fairy to another.
"Why have your feet stayed that way, even after all this time with us?"
"They're so ugly. If we chopped them off, Baobhan Sith would look just like us."
"That would be great, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah, poor Baobhan Sith."
"So pitiful."
"So pitiful."
"Let's do it—let's cut them off."
"Baobhan sith won't mind, right? She's always so obedient."
"Of course not. We're only trying to help her."
Their faces were filled with false sincerity.
Baobhan Sith, her face bruised and her body trembling, had no time to feel the pain. Her mind was being swallowed by fear and confusion.
Her thoughts turned blank—empty white.
So scary. So scary.
Had she done something wrong? Was she being punished for something she didn't even understand?
No, she didn't want this—she didn't want to lose her legs. They might be ugly, yes, but she didn't want to be cut apart. She didn't want pain, or fear, or death.
"Don't come any closer!"
She remembered screaming those words, half-mad with panic. That was when she finally realized what was happening.
"Strange. Baobhan Sith, you're acting weird today."
"You never used to resist us before."
"We're only doing this for your own good."
Her cry didn't stop them. Instead, they just tilted their heads in confusion, stepping closer, weapons still in hand.
Baobhan Sith stumbled backward in terror. She wanted to call for help—maybe some higher-ranking fairy would save her—but then she realized her mistake.
This was an isolated place. Only low-ranking fairies ever came here. Normally, she wouldn't have come either—she'd only followed them because they asked her to.
Should she fight back?
She couldn't. She had no courage left.
The thought of being abandoned terrified her. The thought of being hated terrified her even more.
So Baobhan Sith gave up.
Still, deep down, a part of her wondered—maybe they really did mean well? Maybe she had misunderstood everything?
But her heart refused to believe it. Fear was all that remained.
Anything's fine, she thought. I just want to get away from here.
And so Baobhan Sith shoved past the other fairies, not caring what might happen, and leapt toward the shimmering edge of the Inner Sea—
Toward the gate that led to the human world.
She'd heard from others that it was a terrible place. The world of humans was poisonous to fairies; stay there too long, and you would wither and die.
As she fell, she felt like she was plummeting endlessly into a bottomless pit. Her insides twisted and floated as she dropped, and a dark feeling welled up inside her.
A strange, suffocating urge—to die.
No, she told herself. I don't want to die.
I want to live. I want to live and be like the princesses in human storybooks—bathe in warm water, dry my hair, sleep beneath soft blankets in a cozy room, then wake and wander the sunlit fields, living a peaceful life somewhere bright and warm…
As she murmured this wish in her heart, she remembered how the others had laughed when she once said something similar aloud.
"Wow, she's a princess!"
"Baobhan Sith is a princess!"
"But that's from a human's discarded book. So if Baobhan Sith's a princess, that just means she's a thrown-away one. Not a real princess."
"No, no—Baobhan Sith is a princess."
"Yeah, a princess."
Then they'd snatched the storybook from her hands, scribbled her name all over it, and shouted "Princess!" again and again—laughing until they grew bored.
When they finally tired of the game, they tossed the storybook into the lake.
It took Baobhan Sith a long time to fish it out again. By then, the pages were soaked, the words blurred beyond recognition.
In the end, she tore the ruined book apart and threw the pieces back into the water—but then, as if regretting it, she picked up the fragments again… and began to eat them. One piece at a time.
Please—
"Don't…"
The cry ripped from her throat.
Then came the crash—her body slammed into something solid, so hard it felt like her whole frame was shattering.
She thought, This is it. Humans would tear her apart—rip her flesh and eat her alive.
Baobhan Sith squeezed her only free eyelid shut, desperate to block out the sight.
But the pain never came.
"…?"
Cautiously, she opened her eyes.
Through her tears, what she saw wasn't the face of a monster or a human hunter—
It was sunlight.
Bright, golden sunlight.
Not the pale shimmer of the Inner World, but the dazzling, scorching light of the human realm.
"This is… the human world…" she whispered. "So scary…"
Her voice trembled. Loneliness, fear, and grief welled up all at once. Her eyes reddened—and she began to weep.
She cried and cried, until she lost track of time.
When she finally came to her senses, it was already night. She was still alone. Still stranded in this terrifying human world.
"I have to go back," she murmured.
No one was listening. Still, she nodded to herself and began to look around.
In the distance, she saw a small cabin, faintly glowing with firelight.
So she walked toward it.
What happened next became the "Vampire Incident" that would later be whispered about by Scottish hunters.
Four hunters, encountering a blood-covered red-haired fairy with deer's hooves, panicked and fled—abandoning their hard-won spoils.
Baobhan Sith, bewildered, picked up what they left behind. She didn't understand what had happened—but sensing their fear, she dared not linger in the cabin. She turned back the way she'd come, toward the little lake.
The night sky above the Scottish Highlands was vast and coldly beautiful, the stars glimmering over the silent land.
There, in that lonely expanse, the fairy walked, feeling the vastness of the world and its aching beauty.
When she reached the lake, she crouched down and gazed into the still water.
Her reflection stared back—filthy, eyes hollow and gray as a cave.
She lowered her head to her knees and began to cry again, not even knowing why.
Perhaps she was simply too tired.
Her balance slipped. With a splash, Baobhan Sith fell into the lake.
And once again, pain tore through her—pain so sharp it felt like her body was being ripped apart.
Then she was home.
At least, that's what she thought.
Everyone must be gone by now, she told herself.
But then—behind her—came the soft fluttering of wings.
She flinched, covering her head, crouching instinctively.
"Baobhan Sith, you came back!"
"Told you she'd return. She's such a good girl."
"Yeah, we only did it for her own good."
Their voices surrounded her, blocking her way forward.
Baobhan Sith lowered her head. "...Mm," she murmured faintly.
"Why did you run away, Baobhan Sith? We were only helping you."
"Yeah, we were doing it for your sake."
"Forget it—come play with us again to make it up to us."
"This time we'll play for a long while."
By "play," they meant beating her again.
Baobhan Sith clutched her filthy dress and whispered hoarsely, "...I'm sorry."
Her matted hair hung over her face, blocking her view, red turned black from dried blood and grime.
"You smell awful. Can't you go away? You're disgusting."
"So gross. It stinks."
"...S-sorry…"
She still didn't lift her head. Her voice quivered.
"I'll… I'll clean it off right now…"
"No need. You'll just get dirty again once we're done playing. And afterward, we'll still have to cut off those ugly legs of yours. It's for your own good."
Out of the corner of her eye, Baobhan Sith saw one of them dart toward her, hand raised.
Her body moved before her mind could—she covered her head, shoulders trembling.
But the strike never landed.
The fairies had suddenly stopped.
"Huh? What's that? It's sparkling."
"Is that treasure?"
"A human's?"
"Show us."
"We want to see."
Frightened, Baobhan Sith obeyed. She took out all the things she'd gathered from the human hunters.
"Human stuff! The kind they trade with!"
"Wow, it's so pretty!"
"Baobhan Sith, you're amazing!"
Their tone changed instantly.
They crowded around her, eyes glinting with greed.
"Baobhan Sith, we're friends, right? You're still our princess. So you'll go to the human world again and bring us more of these, won't you?"
They didn't even wait for her reply. Laughing and chattering, they snatched the treasures from her hands and flew away, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that Baobhan Sith should obey them.
But for the next few days, Baobhan Sith experienced something she hadn't known in years—peace.
The fairies didn't hit her anymore. They were too busy playing with the trinkets she'd brought.
Yet before long, they grew bored.
The treasures were too few, too small.
So they surrounded her again, smiling sweetly.
"Go on, Baobhan Sith. Go back to the human world. Bring us more."
No matter how she begged—telling them how much it hurt, how unbearable it was—they didn't listen.
They simply shoved her back toward the gate.
And the cycle began again.
Before all that, the other fae would still say to her—
"Baobhan Sith, we're your friends! You must come back, okay?"
Unfortunately, by then, Favia had already arrived in the Scottish Highlands.
Because of the hunters' guild's patrols, no travelers passed through this region anymore.
So, on the day Baobhan Sith came back empty-handed once again, she cried.
And when she was done crying, she returned.
At first, the other fairies didn't say much.
But as the days went on and Baobhan Sith continued to return with nothing,
they began once again to mock and torment her.
"Baobhan Sith, you really are a monster."
With a sharp crack, like air bursting apart,
her cheek and ear flared with searing pain.
"Yeah, completely useless. Why are you even with us? Actually, why do you even exist?"
"You stink so bad it's disgusting."
"You're no princess. I've never seen any princess in the human world as filthy and revolting as you."
"What a freak."
Even now, Baobhan Sith still didn't fight back.
Because being abandoned terrified her.
Because being hated filled her with paralyzing fear.
She thought, earnestly—
If only I could change everything below my legs...
She had thought this tens of thousands of times by now.
If only she could do that—then maybe her ugly body,
her foolish mind, her gloomy heart—
would all change somehow.
"We'll give you one last chance.
If you can't bring back anything from humans next time,
we'll cut off your legs.
You'll come back, right? We're friends."
"Yeah, it's for your own good."
"Good friends, good friends."
"We're partners, remember?"
And so, after enduring pain that felt like being torn apart,
Baobhan Sith stumbled once more toward the hunter's cabin.
But as soon as she opened the door,
a strange, inhuman shriek echoed from within.
There were words formed by ants,
and writing appearing out of nowhere upon the walls.
These eerie signs bore no trace of magical energy—
and that terrified her.
She wanted to run.
At that moment, it began to rain.
Ordinarily, fairies wouldn't mind rain at all.
But for some reason, this time,
she simply leaned against the cabin door, dazed.
Her mind emptied out completely,
and she stared blankly at the rippling puddles under the night sky.
Raindrops fell, pitter-patter,
disturbing the water's mirrored surface;
each spreading ring collided with the next—
and before long, melted away into nothing.
In that tiny reflection,
she once again saw herself—
filthy from head to toe, eyes like hollow caves—
gray, empty, and lifeless.
And she began to cry.
"The human world... is so scary... so scary...
I don't ever... want to go back..."
Her voice trembled like the ripples on the puddle's surface,
ready to vanish at any moment.
"But... if I don't bring money...
they'll bully me again...
they won't play with me anymore..."
The cold night wind bit into her back.
The fairy girl shivered, rubbing her frozen shoulders with numb fingers.
The rain that fell in that midnight hour
seeped all the way to her bones.
Compared to that icy rain, warmth was a far kinder thing.
For an instant, Baobhan Sith remembered the storybooks of humans—
those tales of princesses,
smiling with their families around a dining table.
It had looked... so happy.
But that was a world she could never reach.
So cold.
The human world was unbearably cold.
She wrapped her arms around herself,
curling tighter and tighter,
her hands instinctively clutching her bare feet,
squeezing them as if she could crush the cold itself.
She knew it was pointless.
And yet she couldn't stop.
If only it hadn't rained... maybe things would've gone better.
Maybe she would've found some human trinkets.
Maybe everyone would've smiled.
Maybe they wouldn't have been so cruel.
Then—she realized.
The rain on her shoulders had stopped.
Had the rain ceased...?
No—someone was there.
A human!
Baobhan Sith instantly held her breath.
Then, as if gazing up at the night sky, she slowly lifted her eyes.
"Wh-who's there...?"
The red-haired fairy tried to whisper,
but her parched throat let out only a faint breath.
"You—"
A silver-haired boy suddenly raised his right hand,
and reached out toward her.
Baobhan Sith's eyes tracked the motion in slow motion.
Her heart thudded hard.
Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut,
curling up, arms over her head in fear.
Then, a heartbeat later, she remembered—
this was a human, not a fairy.
Humans didn't hit her.
So she hurriedly dropped her guard again.
"Would you like to come inside?"
the boy said gently.
"Warm yourself by the fire."
He didn't seem angry.
His voice held no scolding tone—
only quiet, natural kindness.
"Ah... uh..."
The red-haired fairy just stood there,
staring dumbly at this silver-haired human she'd never seen before.
It was such a strange, even frightening situation—
and yet, somehow,
she didn't feel afraid.
There was a little surprise,
a little unease—
but no fear.
Why?
The question stuck in her throat, unspoken.
"On a cold night like this," Favia said softly,
"you'll catch a cold if you stay out here too long."
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