Grimm could never forget the scream of his daughter, even after an entire year.

The scream of poor Alicia, as her neck was snapped by a falling branch from the old apple tree that he grew from a sapling in his childhood.

Nor could he ever forget the way that her eyes looked into his, as she knew that she was paralyzed, and slowly, but surely, going to die a painful death.

If only he had never planted, nurtured, and fed that little apple tree.

Apples are truly the fruit of witches, huh?

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“I love it so much, dad!” Alicia exclaimed.

For her twelfth birthday, Grimm had painstakingly made his daughter a polished mirror.

Damn the fact that those things were meant for noble ladies; he’s going to get one of those things to celebrate his daughter’s important age of becoming a true adult!

A month ago, he had sold several bags of his harvest to the village blacksmith, exchanging it for a flat disk of iron, along with a flask of polishing oil and a durable rag.

Every day afterwards, once he knew his daughter was asleep, he polished the iron disk. Tediously, painstakingly, he oiled the cloth and rubbed the disk, until he could no longer keep himself away from the strain.

He loves his daughter far too much to be held back by such trivial pain.

And now, gifting it to Alicia on her most important birthday, he knew it was all worth it.

A birthday present fit for his beautiful, wonderful Lady.

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After burning the apple tree into the worthless ash it deserved to be, Grimm trudged to the tavern to buy more beer.

At least alcohol is a comfort that won’t die.

“Hey Grimm, ya doin’ alrighty, there?” asked the owner, Peter.

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“Same as usual, I guess,” Grimm responded with barely a thought. “How’s the wife and kids?”

“Ah, they’re doing quite well at the moment,” Peter responded carefully, as he collected the coins from Grimm’s calloused hands. “It’s such a shame that Alicia had to leave this world so early on… “

Grimm just grunted in response.

“Right… Well, I won’t hold you up any longer. Here’s your beer, hope you get better.”

As he downed the mug of beer, Grimm couldn’t help but resent Peter, who just seemed like he had all the luck in the world.

Of course a happy-go-lucky kind of person would have a perfect life, with no goddamn issues like a family dying of stupid accidents.

Why the hell does everything go wrong for my family? What have I done to deserve this?

As Grimm downed the beer, he couldn’t help but feel that the alcohol tastes like disgusting apple vinegar.

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Alicia’s thirteenth birthday was today. Traditionally, Grimm would’ve had a huge party with all the other farmers in the village, along with “attacking” the nearest boy ogling his daughter.

Now?

There was no large feast, no party.

Grimm trimmed the grass around the graves of his wife Maria, and his daughter Alicia.

With his scythe gifted by Maria’s family, he sheared through the overgrown grass with ease. It was so light and sharp that he could’ve sworn it was enchanted by a wizard or witch from those stories that Alicia always loved as a child.

As he raked away the grass clipping, he had an idea.

He should engrave Alicia’s headstone with her mirror. It was, after all, her most prized possession.

Using a piece of chalk to trace the mirror, he realised a problem.

How do I even carve this?

Shrugging, he picked up the scythe and whacked his hand against the oak handle to start chipping the stone away.

Unfortunately for him, his foot slipped on a pile of grass clippings that he forgot to rake. As he fell, his grip on the scythe loosened, and the blade dropped onto the mirror.

The mirror was made out of a rather low-quality, brittle iron; scrap metal from the village blacksmith.

The scythe though?

It was made of a steel forged of the purest iron, polished by the hand of a master, and enchanted by a witch.

It shattered the mirror into splinters.

And then those splinters began to hover.

Forming a hideous ring not unlike the maw of some wretched beast.

And that maw swallowed Grimm, shredding his flesh and sundering his limbs from his body.

As Grimm screamed from the pain, he couldn’t help but think,

At least I’ll be with my family once again.

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When Grimm woke up, he had the worst hangover in his life.

Hnnnng… I probably fell asleep crying drunk. Ughhhhhhhh…

Grimm vomited.

Or he would have, if he actually had any food or bile to throw up.

Instead he just painfully.

“It’s alright honey, you got all the time in the world for it to pass,” The voice of his wife sounded in his ear.

After all, before she died, Maria had always comforted him through the hangovers, never mind that she also had some jobs to do.

“I… I miss you and Alicia so, so much,” Grimm’s eyes became shrouded with tears. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry that I couldn’t help you enough…”

“There there, it’s alright, we’re here now. What’s happened has happened.” A familiar hand cupped over Grimm’s teary cheek.

“Ugh, is dad drunk again? It’s been almost a year!” A voice that could only come from the well-loved daughter of a peasant sounded out.

What…?