The Harvest Mouse Exits the Fairytale Together with Cinderella

Packer faltered, startled by the sudden intrusion.
He had locked the door just in case someone tried to come in—
But now the door was shattered?

Who in the world—
‘No, could it be the Duke of Valkyrisen…?!’
Expecting to face a towering two-meter beast of a man, Packer tilted his head back in preparation—

Only to find nothing.
Confused, he slowly lowered his gaze.
And there, standing defiantly in the doorway, wielding an absurdly large white hammer, was a child.

‘…Gracia Ratson?’
Packer, still tense from the shock, scowled in irritation.
How humiliating—to have even a moment of hesitation because of a mere brat.

"Lady Ratson?"
Edmund, startled like a rabbit caught in a snare, immediately stepped toward Elodie.
"What’s the matter? Did someone bother you?"

That was the first thing he asked.
As if, out of all the reasons Elodie might have rushed to find him, this was the only one that made sense.
‘I’m literally holding a hammer.’

Even now, Edmund was worried about her first.
Elodie, gripping her hammer tightly, corrected him.
"No, I'm worried about you, Edmund."
"Me…?"

Edmund looked bewildered.
‘Of course, someone suffering from memory loss wouldn’t realize they’re being controlled.’
Elodie’s face grew even more serious.

The boy had just woken up, his face clearer and more transparent than usual—
And Elodie took that moment to grab his hand, gripping it tightly.
"Come with me, Edmund."

"I…"
Edmund hesitated.
I just admitted I was the one who killed my parents.

Could this child really look at him the same way after hearing that?
His usual composure cracked.
How could he act normal?

Now that everything had been exposed—
Pretending to be the perfect, model noble again…
That would be nothing short of deception.

He wanted to pull his hand away.
Even breathing in this moment felt like pressing down on the weight of his own sins.
But Elodie wouldn’t let go.

Edmund glanced down at her small fingers, barely managing to hold onto three of his own.
Such a tiny hand.
"Wait."

Packer felt a surge of unease.
Why isn’t she afraid?
A mere five-year-old had heard such vile, discriminatory words against beastfolk—

Shouldn’t she be locked in her room, devastated and broken?
But instead—
She was standing here, holding a hammer, looking like she was ready for battle.

Why is she reacting so extremely? Did she figure it all out?
And even if she did—
What could she possibly do?

Did she think she could undo all the work he had put into shaping Edmund into the perfect successor?
Ridiculous.
A mere five-year-old.

And yet… what if she really does ruin everything?
A dreadful premonition struck him—
A feeling that he could not, must not, let these two leave together.

"Lord Edmund has just woken up. He needs time to settle himself. I have prepared a calming potion—please, allow him to drink it first…."
What a load of nonsense.
As Packer spewed his deceit, Elodie’s eyes flared with fury.

Then, without hesitation, she swung her hammer straight at him.
"HIIIK!"
Packer gasped and reeled back, yanking his hand away.

No matter how small she was—
That hammer had broken down a door.
How could he not be terrified?

But fear quickly turned to rage, his pride once again wounded.
Eyes full of malice, he glared at Elodie as if he could rip her apart.
"No. You’re not needed anymore."

Elodie leveled her hammer at him once again.
"I can drive away anything that hurts Edmund."
Edmund looked down at her, speechless.

This translation is the intellectual property of .
He couldn’t even understand what she meant by "hurting" him.
"Lady Ratson, I think there’s a misunderstanding. Physician Packer has been helping me. He has the ability to erase the nightmares I have—"

"Edmund."
Elodie cut him off sharply, lifting her head.
"Yes, Lady Ratson?"

"I don’t erase memories."
Her golden eyes—gleaming like dawn’s first light, rippling as if caught in a storm—
Locked onto his.

"But I can make sure you never have nightmares again."
Her voice was steady. Certain.
A promise.

A vow.
How could he possibly refuse?
When the hand of salvation had reached out to him—

Like a miracle.
***
Edmund dreamt the same nightmare every night.

"Ed."
"Yes. What is it?"
"You came all this way just to read something like that?"

Liana Valkyrisen.
She plucked the book from his hands with a teasing smile.
"I brought you out here to get some fresh air, but all you do is study?"

The beginning of the nightmare—
The same nightmare.
Edmund felt his entire body go cold, his lips pressing into a thin line.

His fingertips trembled uncontrollably.
"Why are you in such a rush?"
"Because I will inherit House Valkyrisen one day—"

"Oh? I inherited my title too, and I never lived as stiffly as you do."
"I’m the eldest. No matter how much I train, it will never be—"
What was the point of saying any of this?

A hypocrite who destroyed everything with his own hands—who hadn’t even been properly punished.
"Being selfish isn’t always a bad thing. But a child like you should learn how to live for yourself."
Mother.

I have always lived that way.
"At the very least, you should never live your life solely for others. Because when you do, you will cease to exist."
Did you know—

That your kindness killed you twice?
That you were slain by your own son twice?
Once by the blade.

And once more when a clear act of murder was deemed an accident.
And then, the carriage lurched.
"I’ll be back."

No—don’t.
"Shh. Stay hidden."
Please—don’t open the door.

But as if to mock his desperate pleas—
Thick smoke billowed in through the carriage door.
The beginning of it all.

Everything that became a tragedy.
His vision blurred.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again—

Masked figures. They should have been there.
They had always been there.
But—

"Huh?"
There were no masked figures.
No time to even see them.

The moment the smoke filled the air, his eyes shut on their own.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
His consciousness faded.

At that moment—
Edmund blacked out completely.
‘…I was unconscious?’

He had never drawn his sword.
Never swung it.
Never saw the hallucinations.

Of course.
Because from the beginning—
From the moment it all started to the moment it all ended—

He had been unconscious.
Instead, through the haze, he had heard something.
Distant voices, overlapping with the fog in his mind.

"Do you really think anyone would believe a child did all this just because they put a sword in his hand?"
"He’s Valkyrisen’s heir—rumored to have inherited the Duke’s monstrous talent. Of course, they’d suspect him. And we don’t have to fool anyone. He just has to believe it himself."
It was a familiar voice.

A voice he knew.
That conversation—
It calmed his breath, which had been ragged from suffocating nightmares.

And it was that conversation—
That returned a frightened, guilt-ridden fifteen-year-old boy to House Valkyrisen as its rightful heir.
Slowly—

Doubt replaced fear.
Suspicion replaced guilt.
Rage burned away despair.

"Convincing him that he killed his parents in a hallucinatory frenzy… do you really think he’ll believe that?"
"You don’t know my ability? Amplify his anxiety to the limit, show him illusions every night in his sleep, and keep reinforcing it. Eventually, it becomes reality."
‘Just follow orders!’

The last thing he remembered was a hand.
A large, familiar hand pressing firmly against his forehead.