Every ti she tried to enter the crowd, the crowd would disperse.
They called her a "little witch," a "man-eating demon."
But even a little witch can feel lonely.
Sitting alone in a corner, she would gaze at the fire, lost in thought, then ask sadly, "Why does nobody like ?"
She was adorable—her mother used to say she was the cutest little princess in the world.
But why did they all abandon her?
At five years old, she would secretly wipe away her tears; at six, she stopped crying, just sitting alone in a daze.
By the ti she was seven, Archer had co into her life.
Archer would comfort her, rub her head, and tell her, "Hannah, you’re a beautiful star. Many people will like you, starting with ."
In her mories, the boy was always gentle.
He was like that at ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen years old.
As the boy grew older year by year, he always looked at Hannah with a gentle and indulgent gaze, like a brother who would forgive you for any mischief you caused.
His eyes were truly beautiful.
On nights without starlight, his eyes hid the lting glow of the moon.
But everything was forced to stop when the boy was thirteen.
That year, Hannah was ten.
She had grown taller, her hair had grown longer, and she still loved to wear that red cape.
Like a princess who grew up alone deep in the fairy tale forest, she was innocent and cheery.
The spring sunshine was warm but not glaring, with birds singing and flowers fragrant in the distance.
She picked flowers and ran back to the stone house, overjoyed.
The house was quiet; the table was set with prepared dishes, but Archer was nowhere to be found.
Hannah searched the entire stone house but did not see him.
"Are you playing hide-and-seek with ?" She looked around, then went to Archer’s room.
The space inside was larger than before, big enough for a bed and a wardrobe, everything neat and tidy.
Just as it always had been.
Hannah thought to herself that Archer must be hiding from her in a ga of hide-and-seek.
She searched for a long ti, couldn’t find him, and could only forlornly rest her head on the table, waiting for him to co out and coax her.
From morning to noon, and then from noon to evening.
Night fell, the food grew cold, and the flowers in Hannah’s hands wilted, "Archer, where are you?"
Finally, unable to bear the panic, she stood up and left the stone house.
"If you don’t co out, it’s okay, I don’t want to play anymore," said ten-year-old Hannah, feeling lost and scared for the first ti.
She no longer confined Archer, because she believed he would never leave her, never abandon her.
"Archer, won’t you co out?"
She stood still, not knowing where to start searching, and in her panic, she dropped the bouquet to the ground, only to trample it into the soil herself.
"Archer, where are you?"
She ran forward, darting into the darkness; the red cape enveloped in the night’s deep shadows.
No longer bright, no longer vibrant.
A flower blooming in the dark night is ultimately dood to return to the abyss.
Hannah searched for Archer for a long ti, from the refugee area to the north.
She always believed this was just a ga that Archer was playing with her.
It was just that this ga had lasted a little too long.
Just like before, she could hide the whole night in the secret base in the north, waiting for Archer to co find her.
When found, Archer would be angry, he would keep a stern face, but he still couldn’t bear to scold her—when most upset, he would just rub her head, ss up her hair, and then ask her, "Aren’t you hungry?"
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