Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Setting Thirty-Five

Setting Thirty-Five: Fairy Tale (Part 3)

Shan Ziwei closed his eyes—not only to fulfill the invisibility skill’s activation condition, but also to ease the psychological pressure and calm his nerves.

In the darkness, the child’s form blurred, yet took on a different kind of tension. His shallow breaths brushed against her face, picking up her sweet, milky scent and bouncing back softly, spreading across his nose.

He gritted his teeth and quickly lowered his head, hoping to get it over with in one swift motion.

But reality was not so kind.

With his eyes closed, unable to see, and his head moving too fast, he missed his target—his nose brushed against softness, while his lips landed below the child’s, kissing her delicate chin.

For a moment, Shan Ziwei heard the sound of his brain leaking out.

The unexpected failure threw him into chaos. His thoughts tangled into a knot: kiss the princess and leave immediately—he’d already kissed her so he should leave—but he’d kissed her chin, which didn’t count—so should he leave or not—

It was a disaster.

In his hesitation, his lips remained pressed against the little princess’s chin—he was getting a full taste. Soon, the contact point warmed with their mingled temperature and scent. This particular sufferer’s shameless body was predictably ignited. Now he no longer felt his brain leaking—it was boiling.

The princess’s skin was as smooth and delicate as it looked, like milk pudding. He fought the urge to lick it. His mind screamed “stop!” under the command of high morals, while his body instinctively craved a better experience. The conflict’s result: his lips parted slightly, the tip of his tongue hovering between them, undecided.

…Dammit!

Biting his restless tongue, he struggled to think amid the pain and pleasure: even after all his perverted behavior, the princess hadn’t stirred—so the mass-sleep hadn’t been lifted. “Kiss” had to be a proper, solid “kiss.” That meant he needed to immediately shift his lips up a fraction and end this mistake!

Their missed lips finally met, overlapped, and parted.

Such a small motion, yet it felt like sprinting 1000 meters. He forced himself not to think, not to feel, just to get through the motion.

His back was soaked with sweat, his whole body weak from overexertion. But the next moment, that heat turned to ice-cold sweat—because of the hand gripping his skirt.

Invisibility, by definition, meant hiding your form, not vanishing into thin air. Though invisible to the eye, you could still be touched. He’d barely straightened up, trying to catch his breath silently, when he felt a tug on his clothes—the hem of his skirt being touched, grasped, pulled. With only two living beings in the room, he knew exactly who it was. Half his soul fled in terror. The breath he’d been trying to take caught in his throat, carrying a sound—no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, it came out as a hoarse cough.

“Cough…”

The silence was heavy. Not only did Shan Ziwei freeze, but the little princess also stopped her fumbling. He forced himself not to open his eyes and see the child’s expression. He was still invisible, though that cough had thoroughly betrayed his presence.

It wasn’t Shan Ziwei who broke the silence first.

“Ghost…”

His heart leaped. He heard the princess ask in her sweet, childish voice: “Are you a ghost?”

In fact, the princess had spoken entirely in English, with the system translating it into something Shan Ziwei could understand. But the word “ghost” was too special to him. His first reaction wasn’t the translation—it was his old screen name. Taking it that way, the princess’s words gave him an eerie sense of temporal dislocation.

—Why “Ghost”?

—Because I live like a ghost in real life.

The little princess asked: Are you a ghost?

“…I am.”

His voice was low and hoarse. The disorientation from the familiar word faded quickly. He’d answered that way because “ghost” was the best explanation right now—and also quite useful for what came next.

In short, this particular sufferer was preparing to scare a child by posing as a big bad wolf.

“I eat anyone who grabs me.”

His deliberately hushed voice echoed eerily through the room. Instantly, he felt the princess timidly let go of his skirt. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but he couldn’t help a small smile. He was about to continue coaxing (tricking) the child when her soft voice came again.

“Ghost… were you just kissing me?”

His smile froze. Had he not pulled away fast enough? She’d noticed!

Like being caught red-handed in the women’s restroom, his first response was panic and embarrassment. Then he channeled all that into a cover story, bluffing: “I was sucking out your soul!”

The little princess let out a soft “Oh.” Her voice carried surprise, a dawning understanding—but lacked the crucial element: fear.

“Ghost…”

The child’s syrupy voice dissolved into the air. Shan Ziwei’s eyelids fluttered violently—he nearly opened his eyes, but forced them shut at the last moment.

What nearly broke his composure was her next words: “You can kiss me again.”

Even in the darkness of his closed eyes, he could picture the little princess tilting her head up, offering her small face. Waves of shock rolled through him. It took him a while to find his voice, to repeat: “I’m sucking out your soul…”

“Mm.” Her crisp acknowledgment made her sound like a devoted believer sacrificing herself for her god.

He couldn’t hold back: “Why?”

Now it was the child’s turn to be puzzled: “Don’t you need souls?”

And then he understood. The princess before him was a pure, selfless, innocent, harmless little white lotus—in the best sense of the word. No need to overthink it. He just had to adopt the same simple mindset: kiss = soul rescue.

“And I liked your kiss.”

He’d barely steadied his mind when she delivered another critical hit. As his thoughts stalled, her voice came through, soft and a little sad: “I don’t have a mother anymore. No one’s ever kissed me.”

In the princess’s room hung a family portrait: a dignified king, a beautiful queen, and an adorable princess. That portrait had confirmed the little girl’s identity—and also revealed his own delicate position. The king was the same as in the wedding portrait, but the queen wasn’t. This queen had the same black hair as the princess, seated gracefully, her pretty face marked by a trace of illness and fragility—not at all the proud white-haired queen from the wedding mural.

Combined with the storybook’s opening, clearly Shan Ziwei’s role was the “third party” invading this family—the classic “stepmother.” The original queen was gone for unknown reasons (likely illness, judging by the portrait), and the king had married him, the “new queen.” His reign had lasted less than a day. So he absolutely didn’t want to expose himself to the princess—not just because of his shameful behavior, but because he didn’t yet understand the relationship dynamics. Showing up prematurely would probably derail the plot…

Actually, the plot was already pretty derailed! (:3」∠)

Shan · Queen · Zi · Stepmother · Wei felt unprecedented pressure. Even without seeing, he could sense the princess’s expectant, longing gaze, practically saying “take me.” He swallowed audibly; his voice was hoarse even without acting.

“…The sun is too bright.” He said lowly. “Go draw the curtains. Then I’ll have the strength to kiss—to suck out your soul.”

“Okay~”

Her voice brimmed with joy, the soft trailing tone like puffy cotton candy, sweet and light. He heard her little leather shoes click on the floor—tap, tap, tap—as she moved to the other side of the room.

Ready? Go—!

Shan Ziwei opened his eyes, glimpsed the child’s back, quickly located the door. He turned without hesitation, lifted his skirt, and strode out—all while keeping an eye on the princess, freezing and closing his eyes whenever she showed signs of turning. The elderly queen (233 years old) thus played a loving game of “Red Light, Green Light” with the young princess.

The moment he was out of the room, he ran—up several flights without stopping. Only when he was sure the princess couldn’t possibly catch up did he pause, leaning against the stone wall. Before he could catch his breath, he heard a startled cry: “Your Majesty the Queen—”

He turned to see a guard staring wide-eyed at him. It took him a long moment to connect that title with himself—by which time he was already surrounded by a crowd.

“We’ve found Her Majesty!”

“Your Majesty, are you all right—”

…

After the chaos, Shan Ziwei was escorted back to the original room. He sat on a chaise lounge while the court ladies twittered, “Thank goodness you’re safe, Your Majesty,” and “May Your Majesty be blessed with health.”

“His Majesty the King arrives—”

A guard at the door announced, and then the king from the portrait entered in his robes. He was a robust middle-aged man with handsome features and a natural air of authority—yet his demeanor was far gentler than his appearance suggested. The moment he saw Shan Ziwei, he broke into a warm, friendly smile.

“I heard there was an assassin.” The king patted Shan Ziwei’s shoulder reassuringly. “You must have been frightened.”

Shan Ziwei shuddered involuntarily at the touch, which others interpreted as a delicate trembling from fear.

“I’m fine.” His expression was blank—he genuinely didn’t know what expression to wear. Fortunately, everyone, including the king, seemed accustomed to this aloof (?) demeanor. “I felt stifled and went for a walk, so I missed the assassin.”

“Thank heavens for small mercies.” The king sighed and assured him: “I will have that assassin torn to pieces!”

The assassin, single, thought: Heh.

The king exhaled, dropping the subject for now and turning to another matter.

“My dear, though we’ve just married, I must soon depart to inspect my territories. Before I go, I’d like to introduce someone to you.” As he spoke, he waved toward the door. “Come in.”

The first thing Shan Ziwei saw was a shiny black leather shoe, then a white knee-length puffball dress, then the familiar small face and black hair—the princess he’d parted ways with less than half an hour ago.

He fought to keep his expression from cracking, looking stiffly at the king, his emotions having nowhere to go: No need to introduce! The one in front of you and the one behind you just had a 13+ rated moment!

The king called the little princess to his side. “This is our most beloved princess, Snow White.”

Shan Ziwei’s expression nearly shattered.

Snow White—not that Snow White, right?!

No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, the princess’s appearance and name, the king marrying a new queen, the new queen being a witch—it was all following the Snow White plot. He’d had a vague premonition, but the pathetic part of him had refused to accept it—because it meant the “beautiful princess” he was responsible for wasn’t one, not two, but three!

Completely unaware that his queen was on the verge of collapse, the king happily planned a future of domestic bliss for the family of three.

“My dear, I entrust her to you. While I’m away, you two must get along well.”

After the king left, Shan Ziwei and the princess stared at each other. The child had seemed a bit subdued when she first entered, but now she was bright and alert. She gazed at him fixedly, her dark eyes seeming to reflect no unclean thing.

Shan Ziwei studied his reflection in her eyes, checked his composure, and confirmed nothing was amiss—including his voice, which he’d disguised (easy for someone who frequented voice chat and occasionally did live commentaries). The princess shouldn’t connect her stepmother with the pervert in her room.

Seeing him staring, Snow White’s thick lashes fluttered. She called out obediently: “Mother.”

That crisp “Mother” could melt anyone’s heart—but Shan Ziwei got goosebumps all over. He really couldn’t handle that title. Well, his role was the princess’s mother—and Snow White’s stepmother. There was plenty to complain about, but knowing it was Snow White had its advantages—at least he knew how the plot would unfold and how the princess would find true love and her home.

“Don’t call me Mother!”

He shouted, his voice cracking. His impression of Snow White was mostly from Disney’s classic animated film—he vaguely remembered that the queen and Snow White were antagonistic from the start, and with the king absent, the wicked stepmother oppressed Snow White, making her life miserable. He followed the script, deciding to rack up some misery and resentment for the princess.

“From today on, you’ll wear rags and work as a scullery maid. Understood?”

Snow White stood frozen, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as she looked at her mother. She only saw the white-haired queen lift her gaze, as if dismissing her.

Shan Ziwei looked away, not daring to see the child’s frightened expression. From the corner of his eye, he saw Snow White slowly lower her head, exposing her vulnerable neck.

“…Understood.”

His heart was torn to shreds. This was so cruel—such a soft, adorable child deserved to be cherished. But he steeled himself and continued: “Go get your new clothes.”

Snow White said nothing. Her leather shoes made a dull sound on the floor as she walked away—the second time he’d heard the child leave, but this time it was far more agonizing than his fear of being discovered.

…To find true love, little princess, just bear with it!

The moment Snow White was out the door, he collapsed onto the chaise, letting his stiff back relax. But his mind kept racing.

He’d finally gotten through that disastrous opening—it had taken nearly an hour. And that was just the Snow White part. The thought of three princesses made him utterly despair—he had no time to rest. At the very least, he needed to find the other two princesses.

He summoned a court lady. The king had left him in charge of the castle, so no one dared question his orders.

“Do you know of Princess Rose?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Is she here?”

“Yes.”

Excellent! He was thrilled—he’d thought he’d have to search, but this seemed easier than expected.

“Where is she? I’d like to see her.”

The court lady replied respectfully: “She’s in the library, Your Majesty. Shall I fetch her for you?”

Fetch…?

The verb struck him as odd, but then he thought: Princess Rose seemed to be a newborn, so “fetch” for an infant was understandable. He nodded: “Yes.”

The court lady left and returned—carrying a book.

Shan Ziwei stared expressionlessly at the hardcover titled Princess Rose, feeling his intelligence had been insulted.

“This is… Princess Rose?”

Sensing the queen’s dark aura, the court lady replied nervously: “Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

“Princess Rose is a book, not a person? I mean, is there no actual princess named Rose?”

“No…” the court lady whispered. “The fairy tale kingdom has only one princess—Her Highness Snow White.”

“…One last question.” He took a deep breath, holding back the dam of emotions. “Is there a Princess Donkeyskin? If so, bring her to me!”

Five minutes later, two books sat side by side before him: Princess Rose and Princess Donkeyskin, written in ornate English. He’d already skimmed their contents—just the openings, enough to know that Princess Rose was Sleeping Beauty (he hadn’t known the Grimm version by that name), and Princess Donkeyskin was the Grimm tale Allerleirauh!

“So they’re all fairy tales?” He nearly groaned, pressing his forehead. “And incompatible fairy tales at that…”

He was in the fairy tale kingdom, where everyone told him there was only one princess—Snow White. Princess Rose and Princess Donkeyskin didn’t exist.

This seemed like a dead end—how was he supposed to attend the birthday banquet of a “nonexistent” princess? Or become the fairy godmother of a likewise “nonexistent” princess?

With Setting 1 about to activate, the game wouldn’t give him an impossible task. That left only one option…

He looked at the Jokers in his hand.

He drew one. He now knew the Jokers were like a “get out of jail free” card—appealing but hard to use. He’d learned that lesson through blood and tears, but since he still didn’t fully understand their mechanics, he didn’t know how to avoid the pitfalls.

So he decided to run a test. Recalling his previous experiences, he carefully chose his words and spoke slowly, deliberately:

“I have an item that can grant any wish. Using it costs nothing and has no side effects.”

Even he found the conditions too outrageous. As expected, the jester on the Joker gave him a knowing smirk—and vanished.

…Holy crap, it vanished!

He stared dumbfounded as the Joker dissolved into nothing—not blue particles entering the setting panel, but completely returning to the void.

Gaia hadn’t said that failed Joker uses would disappear!

He was on his knees. But aside from complaints, he could only draw another Joker. He hesitated for a moment, then steeled himself to continue the test. This time, he thought more carefully and said cautiously: “I have a magic mirror that reflects the truth and restores itself infinitely.”

This time, the Joker reacted immediately. Two new settings appeared in his panel.

[Setting 4: You carry a magic mirror that reflects the truth and restores itself infinitely.]

[Setting 4: You are attending Snow White’s wedding. (10:00:00)]

Exactly. He exhaled in relief—he’d mostly figured out the Joker’s mechanics.

Simply put, the Joker worked like a search engine for Setting Cards—it searched, rather than inventing from scratch. Gaia had indeed said the Joker would automatically match with similar existing Setting Cards. The fewer keywords used, the more matches; the more keywords, the more precise the search. If anything failed to match, the search returned zero results—meaning the Joker vanished.

Also, the power level of the Personal Setting was directly proportional to the difficulty of the System Setting—just now, he’d given himself a mostly useless magic mirror, and the system had handed him a nearly freebie “attend Snow White’s wedding” setting—which he’d have to do anyway, just with a time limit.

With this understanding, he felt more confident. He drew another Joker and carefully chose his words: “I have an item that can take me to the location of whoever I’m thinking of.”

The jester grinned, dissolving into blue light that entered his panel. His hand felt heavier—a metal object had materialized in his palm.

He looked down: a small golden key, delicate and bright—except for a small portion that was dark red, like rust or dried blood.

[Setting 5: You hold a key that can open any door and take you wherever you wish to go.]

His gaze moved from the Personal Setting to the System Setting. The Personal Setting was powerful—even more generous than he’d specified. But that generosity made him uneasy. Swallowing, he prepared for the worst as he looked upward—

[Setting 5: The key in your hand belongs to Bluebeard. When you use Bluebeard’s key to open a door, if the first person you see is female, nothing happens; if male, he will develop a necrophiliac (Active) relationship toward you.]