"Your choice is absolutely perfect." Carlo’s smile was as enchanting as ever. "Tell me your wish, my dear Cinderella."

Cinderella struggled to steady her wildly beating heart, an inner voice whispering that what she longed for was within her grasp.

"I want to attend the ball... No, I want to become the princess."

"Granted," Carlo said, extending his hand with elegance. "But first, you’ll need a splendid carriage."

From the cracks in the stone, a spider the size of a fist crawled out. With a gentle tap of Carlo’s finger, the spider swelled rapidly, transforming before her eyes. In an instant, a luxurious, intricately adorned black carriage appeared before Cinderella, gleaming under the light.

"And now, the finest horses."

Carlo’s fingers never ceased moving, and this time, a grotesque centipede emerged, its many legs and fearsome appearance making Cinderella recoil in disgust. Yet in the blink of an eye, the hideous creature morphed into powerful black stallions, their muscles rippling under their sleek coats, their manes thick and flowing.

"Next, the coachman and attendants."

Carlo wasn’t finished. From the grass and cracks in the earth crawled countless insects, swarming together and transforming into a retinue of strong, elegant servants. Only the strange, glowing red of their eyes hinted at something unnatural. Otherwise, they were perfect in every way.

"My goodness," Cinderella gasped, covering her mouth in disbelief. Her eyes were wide with astonishment and joy she could hardly contain.

This was nothing short of a miracle, she thought. Or perhaps, a beautiful trap.

Eager to depart, Cinderella took a step toward the carriage—the prince was still waiting for her at the ball.

"Not so fast, my dear," Carlo's voice stopped her in her tracks, his smile filled with amusement. "You’re not quite ready yet."

"What do you mean?" Cinderella asked, blinking in confusion.

"Do you plan to go to the ball looking like that?" Carlo’s gaze swept over her, his tone playful. "The carriage and attendants won’t win the prince’s heart."

Cinderella glanced down at her drab, tattered clothes, her face flushing in embarrassment. But soon, her shame turned to a flutter of excitement.

"Graceful..."

"Beautiful..."

"Elegant..."

With each word Carlo spoke, Cinderella began to transform. Her loose golden hair was woven into an intricate braid, sprinkled with golden dust and petals of every hue. Her worn maid’s dress turned into a flowing black gown, so soft it seemed like it was woven from the finest velvet, trimmed with shimmering gold at the hem. Her ragged shoes became radiant crystal slippers, sparkling more brilliantly than diamonds.

"Now, you’re ready," Carlo said, bowing like a magician concluding a grand performance. "Go and win your prince. No one at the ball will shine brighter than you. Your beauty will outshine the very moon."

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Cinderella stared at herself in awe, her heart brimming with overwhelming joy. She stepped forward and kissed Carlo on the cheek. "Thank you, mysterious stranger."

Carlo’s smile held a trace of something deeper. "There’s no need to thank me, Cinderella. This is simply a deal—a perfectly fair one."

But in her excitement, Cinderella didn’t dwell on the word "deal." Even if she had noticed, it wouldn’t have mattered.

A deal? A carriage, attendants, a gown, crystal shoes—none of these were things she could have ever afforded. Surely, this was her mother’s blessing, a gift from her guardian angel.

Cinderella climbed into the carriage, eager to reach the palace. Carlo watched her disappear into the distance, his smile lingering.

The curse-bound magic "Transmutation," which had cost him five hundred points of dark energy to master, combined with a touch of illusion, had worked wonders. And unlike the typical spells, this one wouldn't end at midnight.

Once a demon’s contract is signed, there’s no turning back. Carlo chuckled softly to himself.

Cinderella enjoyed the most magical night of her life. When she stepped out of the carriage, gasps echoed through the crowd. The palace guards, struck by her beauty, forgot to even ask her name.

Cinderella quickly found her prince and effortlessly captured his heart. She was so dazzling, so radiant, that the entire ball felt like it had been arranged just for her. Even the torches on the walls couldn’t compete with her glow.

The prince danced with her all night, never once letting her go. Cinderella’s feet ached as if they might break, but her heart soared with joy.

For the first time, Cinderella experienced the intoxicating thrill of being the center of attention. The jealous gazes of the women, including the hateful Lady Temani and her two foolish daughters, filled her with immense satisfaction.

Cinderella returned home before Lady Temani and her daughters arrived. As the first rays of sunlight touched the ground, the carriage and attendants returned to their insect forms, scurrying away. Oddly, Cinderella felt a pang of loss for those little creatures.

Her gown and crystal shoes vanished, and she returned to being the unnoticed servant girl.

"Who on earth was that woman?" Lady Temani seethed, her mood foul, while her foolish daughters fanned the flames.

"She was stunning! Her gown, her hair… and those diamond shoes! Have you ever seen shoes made from diamonds?"

"You idiot, those were crystal… The prince couldn’t take his eyes off her all night, and every other woman was focused on her gown and shoes. Mother, I think we should just give up."

"Shut up," Lady Temani roared, her eyes gleaming with malice. "One of you will marry the prince, I swear it!" Her gaze was filled with a sinister light, scheming as always.

"Cinderella, you wretched little thing! Go to the tailor and order us more gowns."

"Yes, my lady," Cinderella replied, feeling a wave of humiliation. She couldn’t wait for nightfall again. Or perhaps she should just rid herself of these three vile women, so she could revel in her beauty both day and night.

The kindness in Cinderella’s heart was slowly being torn apart, devoured by darkness.

At the heart of the continent stood the mighty Kingdom of Oraton, its lands stretching far beyond those of the Kingdom of Lor. Here was the center of the Church, home to the revered Holy Knights, the Pope, and the Saintess.

From within a sealed chamber, violent coughing echoed.

"Stop this. You’re killing yourself," Peter’s eyes were filled with sorrow and compassion as he looked at the girl before him, who seemed to be withering away.

Or perhaps she couldn’t even be called a girl anymore. Her face was aging rapidly, her once smooth skin wrinkling, her dark hair turning white at the roots. She looked like an old woman nearing death.

"Using the Eye of Foresight too often is draining your life, Maria. The future is fluid—it can change at any moment… You’re throwing away your gift." Peter wore a simple white robe, but the divine light radiating from him made him appear more devout and noble than any other cleric. He was the Pope.

"No, you’re wrong..." Maria’s voice was rough, like sandpaper scraping against stone. Her skeletal hand clutched the crystal ball in front of her as she coughed and spoke slowly. "The future is set… All I see through the Eye of Foresight is fire, death, and endless darkness."

Peter sighed, murmuring a prayer as a soft white light enveloped Maria, easing her pain.

"I’ve already dispatched four cardinals and all the knightly orders. The King of Oraton has agreed to send his army… Oliver and Elijah’s souls will rest in peace."

"The Light will cleanse all."

But Maria’s eyes were filled with doubt and sorrow. She could only hope he was right.