The Stepmother Sister Should Have a Happy Ending with Cinderella - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I am the Wicked Stepsister of the gender-swapped, reverse-harem, danmei Cinderella.

When the memory of an explicit, adults-only novel inexplicably flashed into my mind,

I was sitting by a warm fireplace, eating toast and drinking sweet milk. Across from me, my sister was listening with keen interest as our mother told a dark fairy tale.

Oh, my dear God.

I have known the story of Cinderella since childhood: one wicked sister had her toes chopped off, and the other had her heel cut off.

But in this gender-swapped version, Cinderella would be forced by various powerful suitors, subjected to unspeakable acts. After resisting desperately at first, he would eventually fall into depravity, learn black magic, and set a fire to perish together with them.

Meanwhile, the three of us-mother and daughters-would suffer inhumane punishments at the hands of the Wizard, the Knight, the Godfather… and ultimately be tied to a stake by the Prince and burned alive.

This terrible news nearly made my fragile heart faint from shock. I couldn’t even hold the sweet berries steady anymore.

Noticing my dazed state,

Mother gently asked me what was wrong.

“It’s nothing. It’s just too stuffy inside.”

I shook my head and said I wanted to go out for a walk.

The snowy night was vast and boundless, with a biting wind.

In the great forest beyond the estate stood a gallows. When the wind blew, four or five hanging corpses in a row swayed creakily, staring coldly at anyone who passed.

Carrying a lantern, I pushed down my terror.

In the novel, tonight, after being driven from home, Cinderella would encounter evil spirits and snow wolves in the forest and lose his way. In his panic, he would stumble into a cursed castle and be forced into captivity by the brutal Prince, who had been transformed into a Beast.

As the days passed, the Beast would fall hopelessly in love with the cross-dressing Cinderella. After investigating his family, the Beast would be enraged and kill his wicked stepmother.

My poor, wicked mother.

I will save you.

I don’t know how long I walked.

My boots and the hem of my skirt were soaked with melting snow.

I was on the verge of losing consciousness from the piercing cold, my mind going rigid. I thought Evelyn must have already wandered into the castle. When my vision was darkening,

My fingers pushed aside a dead branch that blocked my view, and just then I spotted an unconscious silver-haired girl lying under a tree not far away.

No, it should be a boy.

The moonlight reflected coldly off the snow.

Almost weeping with joy, I ran over, only to see his body drenched in blood. His arms and back were covered with wounds of varying depths, dreadfully horrifying.

I set the lantern on the snow, bent closer, and brushed a thin layer of snow from the youth’s face. When my fingertips touched his forehead, it was burning hot.

“Evelyn, wake up.”

I gently patted his cheek, trying to rouse him.

His delicate and beautiful face was flushed red from the cold, his full lips also crimson like blood, as luscious as a ripe red berry, seemingly ready for the picking.

Paired with his soft silver hair spread across the snow, he looked like a wounded angel who had fallen from heaven, beautiful and fragile, evoking pity.

A poor, beautiful youth with only looks to attract unwanted desires.

In this forest, he was fortunate to have met me.

Evelyn was thin and frail.

I propped him up against the tree by his arms, brushed the snow off him, untied my red cloak, and draped it over his shoulders. Just as I was about to fasten the strings, the youth awoke.

Fine snowflakes landed on his trembling lashes. His light purple eyes flecked with gold suddenly opened, and he instinctively grabbed my wrist.

A grip vicious and cruel.

The red silk string slipped from my fingers. A sharp pain hit me. I frowned, trying to sound gentle, but still couldn’t help raising my voice:

“Let go, Evelyn! Have you gone mad?

I am your sister.”

The youth froze briefly, his consciousness gradually clearing. When he recognized me, he lowered his eyes, came to his senses, and released my hand.

My slender white wrist was reddened from his grip.

I rubbed it gently and glanced at the sickly pale youth from the corner of my eye. After hesitating, my fingertips moved toward the red cloak string at his chest.

Evelyn drew back with some resistance.

I understood his unease. At home, although I didn’t bully him like my mother and sister did, I rarely gave him good expressions either.

But thinking of the terrible experiences awaiting him,

I felt a surge of pity. I stood up, extended my hand toward him, and said softly:

“Can you stand?”

Evelyn didn’t ask why I was there; he kept silent, his lowered eyes unreadable.

From the Bright Moon Cliff, the howls of snow wolves rang out.

The forest was unsafe. Besides small animals, it was home to ferocious beasts and evil wizards. With bad luck, one might even encounter fearsome devils and cunning dwarves.

My heart clenched. Just when I thought he might be too weak to walk and considered carrying him home,

A cold, sickly pale finger rested on my palm.

Evelyn used the support to stand, let out a soft groan, and thanked me very lightly and humbly.

Watching his thin back as he limped away, I sighed, picked up the lantern from the ground, and followed unhurriedly behind him.