Chapter 130: The Tale of “Fairy Tale”
Irene slipped out from Miss Foxy’s embrace. She stood atop the table, gazing absentmindedly at the clearing beyond the window, her eyes mirroring the daze in Little Red Riding Hood’s.
“The initial outbreak of ‘Fairy Tale’ happened right here,” murmured the little doll, her voice low and uncertain. “But the victims later started calling this place home… it just feels weird.”
“Everyone needs a home,” said Little Red Riding Hood, turning back with a faint smile. “I don’t know how the ‘Elders’ made their decision back then, but the Cursed Children who live here now treat this Orphanage as their haven. To me, too, this is a place that brings peace of mind… even if so many terrible things happened here.”
“Only orphans are affected by ‘Fairy Tale’?” Yu Sheng frowned. “Or do ordinary children who fall under its influence get sent here as well?”
“Only orphans,” Little Red Riding Hood sighed.
“Why? Is there a known reason?”
“Because their hearts lack protection,” she replied calmly. “Though much about ‘Fairy Tale’ remains a mystery, we’ve determined that its influence correlates with a person’s personality pattern and social ties. Orphans, devoid of parental or familial bonds, living in chronic psychological instability and social isolation, are its ideal prey. After all…”
She paused, then gave a slight shake of the head. “After all, if reality is too cold, then the warmth of fantasy becomes that much more enticing. When ‘Fairy Tale’ first begins its influence, its power is actually weak. A slender ‘thread’ is all that’s needed to anchor a child to reality—but for many orphans, even that one thread doesn’t exist.”
Yu Sheng’s brows remained furrowed. After a moment, he asked again, “What triggers it? The Squirrel said… it starts when they read the corresponding Fairy Tale story?”
Little Red Riding Hood nodded. “That’s the most important factor.”
“Then why not just ban those stories altogether?” Miss Foxy asked, curiosity gleaming. “Back home, we had a Cultivator who merged himself into a legend just before death. Nearly succeeded in coming back to life through people repeating the tale. This feels just as terrifying.”
Irene’s eyes widened at that. She stared, dumbfounded. “Holy crap, your hometown’s got some messed-up stuff… So what happened? How did you get rid of that Cultivator? Did you seal the corrupted legend?”
“Nah,” Miss Foxy waved a hand dismissively. “They tried, but his lingering will was too widespread. The seal never held. But then came the era of social media.”
Yu Sheng’s expression froze. “Uh… huh?”
“Yeah, with all the memes, remixes, and video snippets, the Cultivator died miserably,” Miss Foxy gestured animatedly. “His last cry for help got turned into a meme. By the time the Celestial Alliance noticed, he was already destroyed in a wave of global laughter.”
The room fell silent. Little Red Riding Hood, Yu Sheng, and Irene sat frozen on the sofa. Miss Foxy, however, kept talking in her dreamy tone: “Since then, even our tribe’s big Demon Foxes don’t dare embed themselves into stories. If they do, it’s into math equations or physics formulas—less likely to get distorted.”
Little Red Riding Hood blinked slowly, then turned to Yu Sheng. “Um… I lost track of the logic somewhere.”
“It’s fine. I lose track of her hometown tales all the time,” Yu Sheng waved it off. “But Foxy’s question is the same as mine. If those Fairy Tale stories are such a key factor, why not control their spread? Or ruin them like she suggested?”
Little Red Riding Hood didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she asked a question of her own: “Do you remember why we didn’t just demolish the Old Theater to permanently seal the Otherworld-Museum?”
Yu Sheng’s expression shifted subtly—he understood.
“Anomalous Otherworlds follow the same rule?”
“Yes. Anomalous Otherworlds are still Otherworlds. The underlying rules remain the same,” she nodded. “‘Fairy Tale’s’ true form is hidden within a deeper layer of ‘information.’ The stories are merely its gateways into reality—just like how the Museum’s core is a warped space, with the Old Theater stage as its entry point. Removing the entrance only forces the Otherworld to erupt in more bizarre and unpredictable ways. It might even become more dangerous. And…”
She looked up, her expression grave.
“‘Fairy Tale’ has a more sinister trait. Its ‘stories’ don’t even require a narrator. One recorded case involved a child who had never been exposed to the tale, yet dreamt their way into a ‘subset’ created by Fairy Tale. The investigation found the child had heard a voice reading the story from the void. That’s why, even though the Fairy Tale Otherworld isn’t immediately lethal, its danger is rated Level 3 or above—because it possesses a willful malice.”
The tale of Little Red Riding Hood had come to its close. Yu Sheng sat slouched upon the velvet sofa, a shadow clouding his features.
An inexplicable sense of agitation began to surge within him. He rose abruptly and paced the room, lost for words.
“This shouldn’t be happening… does the Special Affairs Bureau seriously have no means at all?” he suddenly turned, voice sharp, eyes fixed on the crimson-clad maiden nearby.
Little Red Riding Hood merely lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression as calm as a still pond. “Have Humans eradicated the common cold?”
Yu Sheng faltered into silence.
“Consider it a chronic affliction that strikes only a handful of orphans—doesn’t that make it easier to understand, easier to accept?” she continued, voice unwavering. “You can’t demand the extinction of a natural phenomenon just because you pity us Cursed Children. The Special Affairs Bureau is being asked to achieve the impossible. The Otherworld is not some malfunctioning factory you can shut the Door to and be done with it. It’s a phenomenon woven into the fabric of our reality. Fixing its entrance to a stable location… that is already its greatest mercy to mankind.”
Her words were quiet, yet carried the weight of conviction. And still, Yu Sheng felt something was off.
No—there was one Otherworld.
There was one Otherworld that had, indeed, been eradicated.
That Valley.
Yu Sheng’s thoughts spun into a storm, ideas lashing like lightning across the tempest of his mind.
Could the events of Night Valley be replayed within the Black Forest? Even if they could be mirrored there… how would that alter the core of Fairy Tale itself? After all, the Black Forest was but a fragment, a subdomain—a temporary chamber within the Invisible Building. And according to Little Red Riding Hood’s explanation, Yu Sheng currently saw no way to even brush against the Fairy Tale’s true form…
[How in the world do I smear blood onto a storybook?]
Little Red Riding Hood tilted her head curiously, watching as Yu Sheng stood by the window, face flickering through a kaleidoscope of emotions. She had no idea what this odd “adult” from Wutong Road No. 66 was contemplating, but she could sense it—this Dangerous Entity that even the Special Affairs Bureau approached with caution truly wanted to help her.
“You’re trying to do something impossible,” she said at last. “I know you want to help us. In fact, there were others before you. Deep Divers, Scholars, Investigators, even an Astrologer from the Alglade Star System. All adults who once sought to shield us Cursed Children from the nightmare. None succeeded. I don’t say this to discourage you, only to warn you—this is perilous. And until now, we have no path forward.”
But Yu Sheng seemed not to hear. Lost in thought, he finally looked up after a long pause.
“I may not have a clue about the Fairy Tale itself, but we can start with the Black Forest.”
Little Red Riding Hood blinked. “Uhh… did you not hear anything I just said?”
“I did, I just don’t think it’s a big deal,” Yu Sheng waved her off. “There are tons of things in this world I don’t have a clue about. Like where my water and electricity bills go. Or where my damn sewage pipe ends up. And as for danger… come on, what Otherworld isn’t dangerous?”
Little Red Riding Hood opened her mouth, then closed it again. No immediate retort came to mind.
At that moment, just as Yu Sheng was about to press the girl for more intel on the Black Forest, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, shattering the silence like glass.
The Door to the reception hall burst open. A young girl—perhaps a year or two younger than Little Red Riding Hood—rushed in, her long black hair trailing behind her like a shadow.
Little Red Riding Hood sprang to her feet. “Long Haired Girl? What’s wrong?”
The girl called Long Haired Girl cast a cautious glance at the outsiders in the room, hesitating until Little Red Riding Hood gave a subtle nod. Then she inhaled sharply and whispered with urgent swiftness: “One of the children has… ‘left’. It happened too quickly. We didn’t have time…”
Yu Sheng saw it—the way Little Red Riding Hood’s body trembled ever so slightly. Her breath hitched. She went still as a statue.
“…Which one?” she asked in a voice no louder than a breeze.
“The new one.”