Chapter 24 : Storybook

I decided to read Ruby a fairy tale.

Why?
Yesterday’s scene wouldn’t leave my mind.

Maybe I’m overreacting.
Kids, out of curiosity, often torment small creatures like rats or ants—not a big deal.

Plus, Ruby had a reason:
The rat stole her candy.
She even said she’d forgive Mary if she did it.

Still, I couldn’t shake the unease.
Feeling guilty for not fully trusting my only sister, but if there’s a problem, I’ll fix it slowly.

Mary said the best way is to stay close to Ruby.

So, I’ll start doing things I haven’t done for her yet.

The first step?
Reading a fairy tale.

But an unexpected problem arose.

‘No fairy tale books…?’

More precisely, paper books are rare antiques.
Digitalization has taken over, leaving e-books as the norm.

In Rat Town, where childlike wonder died long ago, finding a paper fairy tale book?
Impossible.

Desperate, I shared my dilemma with the team.

“What?
Fairy tales?
Your sister ain’t a baby.
Forget that—buy her food.”

Karen’s scoffing reprimand stung.

I couldn’t deny it.
To me, Ruby seems adorably young, but she’s 11.
In modern terms, a fourth-grader—too old for childlike wonder.

Still, my resolve didn’t waver.
Ruby has few childhood memories, so a pure fairy tale might work wonders.

“It’s a good idea, but paper fairy tale books are hard to find.
How about an e-book or a VR fairy tale?”

Mary’s suggestion was practical.
VR, having experienced it myself, was tempting.

But my will was firm.
No matter how vivid VR is, it can’t match a paper book’s warmth.
Imagining Ruby and me, snuggled together, turning pages one by one, filled me with cozy joy.
I can’t give this up.

“Heh.
Your sister’d prefer a gun-making kit over fairy tales.
She seems into that… hic!”

“Don’t put weird ideas in her head!”

Franklin’s dangerous.
I need to keep him away from Ruby for now.
How dare he try to turn my pure sister into a gunner?
Unacceptable.

“Fairy tale book…
Now that I think about it, I once won one in a bet and stashed it in my room.”

“Really?!”

Spade, whom I hadn’t expected much from, hit the jackpot.
Who knew a gambling addict would be this helpful?

“Not free, though.
It’s a rare antique with demand.”

“Ugh…
Fine, I’ll buy it.”

Filthy expensive.
I drained all my savings, except the 100 million saved for the Reaper deal, to afford it.
Feels like a ripoff, but since I don’t need money elsewhere, I bit the bullet.

“…”

Finally, a tattered fairy tale book.
Reading the faded title on the cover, I froze solid.

Karen, watching the deal, frowned, grumbling.

“Witch of Emberfire?
Why pick such a gloomy fairy tale?”

“If it was a famous fairy tale, it wouldn’t end up in a slum gambling den.”

Witch of Emberfire.
The all-too-familiar name made my heart pound, my mind blank.
Biting my lip, I barely regained composure and thought.

I haven’t read this book.
But its title appears in the original novel in a different form.

The nickname of the worst psycho villain.
The Witch of Emberfire, burner of cities.

Ember.

Her real name?
Ruby.
The other name people will fearfully call my sister in the future.

When I read the novel, I had no clue why Ruby was called the Witch of Emberfire.
Now, I realized it likely stemmed from this fairy tale before me.

Ruby must not read this.
I don’t know the story, but one thing’s clear:
She can’t see this book.

“Here, take it.
Great deal.”

Spade handed me the book.
Flinching, I stepped back.
Seeing their puzzled looks, I swallowed hard.

I’ll take it and destroy it later.
No, burning it might be safer.

But first, shouldn’t I check its contents?
Maybe it holds the reason Ruby becomes a psycho villain.

Pretending calm, I took the book, thanking him.
Planning to quietly dispose of it, I turned—

And locked eyes with Ruby, who’d snuck up unnoticed.

Her sparkling, gem-like eyes fixed on the fairy tale book in my hands.
I knew then—it was too late.

Back in our room, sitting side-by-side on the bed with Ruby.

“…Really want me to read it?”

“Yup!
Ruby’s never read one.
I want to hear the fairy tale book Sis got for me.”

Exactly as I’d imagined.
As hoped, Ruby was excited about the book.

So why does my heart feel so heavy?
If only Ruby had shrugged off the book, like Karen or Franklin predicted.
If I’d followed Mary’s advice and gotten a VR fairy tale.

Regret was useless now.
I wasn’t an older sister who could ignore her sister’s eager eyes.

Fine.
Let’s think this is for the best.
I’ll read it with Ruby, find the cause, and prevent it.

“I’ll read it…?”

“Yup!”

I won’t let her become like the book’s title.
Steeling my resolve, I opened the first page of Witch of Emberfire.

The story began with a clichéd, typical fairy tale opening.

*‘Long ago, in a village, lived a girl.

The girl, raised without parents, was bullied by other kids.
Adults, too, ignored her like she was invisible.

Lonely, the girl went to a forest outside the village, playing alone to pass time.

One day, she found a beautiful bluebird in the forest.
Even approaching closely, the bluebird didn’t flee—instead, it happily welcomed her touch, singing sweetly.

Then, a miracle happened.
Her touch sparked shimmering light, transforming the bluebird into a mystical being.
The bluebird could speak, and for the first time, the girl laughed and chatted with someone.

From that day, they became friends.

The girl visited the forest daily, spending time with the bluebird.
Over time, the bluebird introduced her to other forest friends.

A gallant wolf.
A haughty fox.
A gentle deer.
A lazy bear.

With more friends, the girl was happy.

But trouble arose.
Village kids, curious about the girl’s daily forest trips, secretly followed her.

Discovering the bluebird, who spoke and wielded magic, the kids envied the girl.
They rushed at her, demanding she hand over the bluebird, tormenting her.

Of course, the bluebird didn’t stand by.
Using magic, it scared off the kids and comforted the girl.

Meanwhile, the fleeing kids cried to the village adults, tattling about the forest.
Greedy for magic’s power, the adults threatened the girl to bring the bluebird when she returned.

The girl rushed back to the forest, urging the bluebird to flee.
But the bluebird couldn’t abandon her to the village.

Worried the girl might be harmed if she returned, the bluebird urged her to stay in the forest for a while.

Village adults, enraged that the girl didn’t emerge, grabbed weapons and stormed the forest.
Of course, they too fled before the bluebird’s magic.

But it didn’t end there.
The adults lied to the kingdom, claiming a witch in the forest planned to kill the village.

Immediately, kingdom soldiers invaded the forest to hunt the witch.
Realizing it couldn’t fight alone, the bluebird begged the forest friends for help.

The battle raged long.
Over time, the forest friends fell, one by one.

The bluebird entrusted the last wolf.
It would hold here, so the wolf must escape with the girl as far as possible.

The wolf agreed.
The girl tried to take the bluebird, but it stayed, creating a strong barrier to block the soldiers from pursuing her.

After fleeing the forest for a while, the wolf, too, collapsed from exhaustion.
The girl had no friends left.

For a very long time,
The girl wept.

Until no tears remained.

When even those dried up,

The girl became a witch.

The witch people feared was created by their own actions.

The witch burned everything, advancing slowly.

People, trembling in fear, called her—

The Witch of Emberfire.’*

The story ended there.
The last page of the fairy tale book was torn out.