Surviving a Cruel Fairy Tale

18 – Act 1. Little Red Riding Hood’s Forest – Third-rate Writer (1)

After parting ways with the woodcutter, I arrived at Little Red Riding Hood’s cabin without wasting time.

She wandered here and there with her, but nowhere else did she feel the grace of the earth as bright and warm as this place.

The soft wind bathed in sunlight tickled my nose carrying the delicate scent of flowers and the refreshing scent of grass.

After Little Red Riding Hood arrived at the cabin, she sat in the middle of the field looking after the wolf pack.

The wolf, which only looked ferocious, was meek like a puppy in front of her, showing off his charms, and there was also an individual that roared and opened its belly with a low cry.

I think while watching the scene where my face melts just by looking at it.

The previously targeted Mystic Reinforcement has been achieved.

I’m sure this gave me other means of resistance besides Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, but is this really enough to stand against the hunter?

“Um… ….”

The hunter’s strength lies in the oral storytelling.

Hunters in fairy tales have always belonged to those who hunt, but never fall into the role of being hunted.

It was the limit of the fairy tale story, but it also maximized the concept of simply being a hunter.

The hunter.

Compatibility that has nothing to do with strength or weakness.

At least, no beast in this forest can defeat him, and in addition to this, his role in the fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood is like a mechanical god who solves everything.

…… My head hurts just thinking about it.

I know that it’s a world created in a fairy tale, so I can’t overturn the relationship, but is it enough to overturn the physical reaction?

Since I haven’t seen it myself, I’m not sure what it is.

So I cautiously approached Little Red Riding Hood surrounded by wolves and tapped her on the shoulder with her finger.

“Hey, you know.”

“Why?”

Little Red Riding Hood turns her head with a calm expression.

Her golden eyes caught my attention for a moment, but I blinked and regained consciousness before opening her mouth.

“There is something I want to ask you about the hunter.”

“What is it?”

“You said you couldn’t beat a hunter. I said it was impossible even for wolves, but I wonder if wolves can’t kill hunters in any number of cases.”

There are things that cannot be understood just by hearing them in words.

I don’t doubt her words, and in fact, like a world made up of fairy tales, the Tin Woodman also wandered around hoping for a heart, but the question remains whether the relationship of the fairy tale can be twisted at all.

To the question with some expectations, she answered as if it was natural.

“Never.”

“In any case?”

“He has a tradition. Legend has it that he killed a wolf. It is just the absolute that dwells in him, regardless of how he has lived and what actions he has taken.”

The word absolute is heavy.

It was already a completely different world from the original, but even in the midst of that, the existing nature remained as their basis.

“So I need you.”

“Me?”

“We have no ability to change ourselves. So do I, and so do hunters. The woodcutter wouldn’t get a heart without you, and he’d be lost in the woods all along.”

Existences that cannot create variables.

Inhabitants of a fairy tale world.

They seemed to be saying that they exist as one of the characters in a fairy tale world before being residents of this world.

“This world is a world of fairy tales. The inhabitants here are merely actors acting out the original story.”

“…… That.”

“If there is someone who can change this trivial world, wouldn’t it be a man who calls himself a writer while walking in the world of stories?”

The characters can change the story.

Only the writer can do that.

Of course, I’m not that great as a human being to actually hear it and shoulder the responsibility.

I called myself a writer to Little Red Riding Hood.

At the time, I definitely thought of myself as a writer, but can a third-rate person who has failed one after another without leaving anything behind can really be called a writer?

Only I can change this world.

If you listen to it like this, you will be mistaken as if you are the main character, but in reality I was just a foolish person who only dreamed and distanced himself from reality.

Don’t be mistaken for having acquired a little special ability.

That would be conceit and narcissism that would only make me lack even more.

“I’ve been thinking about it all along. If the hunter is stronger than anyone else in this forest, how can I break that absolute?”

“What is the answer?”

“…… To be honest, nothing comes to mind.”

To put it simply, it would be best to neutralize his biggest weapon, the gun, but I can’t come up with a way.

The power to modify the world that dwells within me was still extremely limited in scope.

Compared to my previous self, which was limited even by twisting the direction of the bullet, it has improved considerably, but there are still many restrictions.

In the future, if this vessel is further enlarged and expanded, and more mysteries are accumulated, it may be possible to modify a wide range of domains, but at least that is not the case now.

“I don’t have enough energy to realize what comes to my mind right now. For example, you can’t get hurt by firearms, you can’t use gunpowder weapons in this forest, things like that.”

“Isn’t it because the structure is poor?”

“What is the structure?”

Little Red Riding Hood nodded at me as I questioned.

After that, she took out a book that showed her own magic and opened it.

“I don’t know what the structure of the power you speak of is, but at least we witches don’t implement magic in such a simple way.”

Of course, Little Red Riding Hood continued her words, even though she was still immature and less than half a penny to call herself a witch.

“Magic is the power to make something that is not natural. If you have the power to follow your imagination, the directions are limitless, but on the contrary, there are many things to pay attention to, such as grasping the place, flow of power, and external intervention centering on the area of influence.”

“In short, what I am trying to do is too simple?”

“If you lack strength, I think it is common to maximize the effect by compressing the area more and subdividing the concept a little more.”

The power I possess is definitely different from that of a witch.

However, there is some truth to Little Red Riding Hood’s words, and if she lacks strength, it is common for her to adopt a method of concentrating on one point rather than condensing and confining it.

“Besides, you said I was a writer.”

“Yes, G.”

I am a writer.

A failed fairy tale writer.

At least that mindset hasn’t changed, but it can’t be helped that it’s hard to proudly tell someone that I’m a fairy tale writer.

“You are a writer. This world is a fairy tale world. Then the power you have is the power to change the story, but can a story be changed in such a simple way?”

…… A simple way?

Yes, the plan to simply block the opponent’s weapons is one-dimensional, but was there any other way?

“What would you do?”

“I am not a writer. Just a resident of this crazy fairy tale world. I had hoped for you because I had faith that you would do it.”

Little Red Riding Hood stopped talking resolutely.

It is not cheering.

A word that is more like a warning.

She supported me because I needed it, and I heard that she could break up with me anytime if there was no need for it.

“Just as we have our own way, you, the writer, must have your own way.”

“I’ll have to think about it a bit.”

“As much as you like. I’ve been waiting a long time already Waiting here will not change anything, so do everything you can.”

And Little Red Riding Hood stood up with the words to call him whenever needed.

“You want to go?”

“I need to get some rest.”

I watched her back as she walked away with light steps.

She has a slender body.

It’s hard to say that her back is reliable even with empty words, but she endured alone in the twilight forest where these hunters and woodcutter roamed until she became a witch.

I think that’s really great.

The daughter of a hunter and a fairy.

In some sense, it was difficult for her to survive alone, but as she became a witch, she escaped the clutches of hunters and became a strong person who could live alone.

Can I be the strength to her expectations?

A third-rate fairy tale writer who failed.

A mediocre dreamer who, living in a previous world, never left anything of his own and never shared his own story with everyone.

“…… Ha.”

As I was sighing, a wolf approached at my feet.

“What is it?”

“Gureureung.”

The animal roared low and rubbed its head against my leg, then took its place lying on its stomach between my legs.

Looking at it this way, it’s no different from a dog.

“Yes, yes.”

When I put my hand on his head, the wolf raises his head slightly as if feeling the touch and sticks out his neck.

I scratched the nape of his neck, felt the texture of the fur, and thought while stroking it for a while.

Me as a writer.

A resident of a distorted fairy tale world.

In Little Red Riding Hood’s fairy tale, how to break the hunter’s advantage and the most ideal ending in this forest.