Wolf Granny lay on the bed in the little house, keeping its claws, ears, and tail hidden. It swallowed Little Red Riding Hood whole, and then…
The hunter didn’t come.
Instead, it was a cook.
Yu Sheng sensed a sudden, fierce struggle in the air. The invisible Wolf Granny let out a piercing shriek. Where Yu Sheng’s knife slashed through the air, fresh blood appeared from nowhere. Skin, fat, and muscle peeled back, curling away midair along the blade’s path. A moment later, Yu Sheng felt a blast of pressure and an unmistakable warning by his side—a raised wolf paw and a snarling head.
But this wasn’t the towering monster lurking in Little Red Riding Hood’s deepest fears. It was only the Big Bad Wolf imagined by a six-year-old—powerful, but not more powerful than Yu Sheng; swift, but not swifter than a grown man. It was vicious, but Yu Sheng had battled far worse things in his time.
He lunged forward, grabbing the invisible wolf’s head and pinning its neck against the small bed. With his other hand—still gripping the knife—he kept slicing through the wolf’s hide. Blood gushed out, and the wolf’s horrified howls grew louder, taking shape as it began to materialize in front of them.
It was huge, much larger than an ordinary wolf—big enough to devour a child in one gulp. Its skinny body was wrapped in a ridiculous apron and drooping hat. Its face looked twisted beyond reason, and its swollen belly bulged grotesquely.
But now, it was dying. Those cruel eyes grew dim, its rasping throat gave out in weak gasps, and its limbs shook in their final, futile struggle.
“Shh, shh—it’s almost over…” Yu Sheng leaned in, his gaze calm as he peered into the wolf’s eyes, his voice low and reassuring. “I have to cut carefully. Don’t thrash around too much—you’ll only make it harder. There… all finished.”
Little Red Riding Hood hurried over and caught the girl before she fell. Her gaze flitted between the wolf’s half-gutted body, still twitching on the bed, and Yu Sheng, who was casually wiping his knife clean.
“How… how did you even see it?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why couldn’t I see it at all?”
“It’s… complicated,” Yu Sheng replied, rubbing the wolf’s fur with the blade to clear away the blood. Then he turned to her. “I have a few extra senses now—things wolves in this forest can sense, I can sense too. Maybe you didn’t see it because this wasn’t your Wolf Granny.”
Little Red Riding Hood froze, her expression clouded with conflicting thoughts.
Before she could speak, a chorus of howls erupted outside, shattering her focus. Seven or eight shadow wolves appeared around her, snarling in response to the calls from outside. Their rough cries echoed through the house, as if they were rushing to defend their “master.”
“They’re upset,” Yu Sheng noted, turning briefly toward the door. Then he looked at Little Red Riding Hood, who was coiled like a spring, ready to fight. “You should take the child and go. Now that she’s out of the wolf’s belly, all she has to do is return to reality and she’ll wake.”
“But it’s not time yet!” Little Red Riding Hood protested, voice quick and urgent. “The Black Forest has rules—you can’t just leave before the dream runs its course—”
Yu Sheng frowned and called out in his mind, “Irene, do it now—use your specialty and get them out of here.”
“Understood,” Irene answered. “Aren’t you leaving, too?”
“I’ll stay a while longer. I want to see if anything changes in this place. Don’t worry about me.”
“Alright, but if you die, at least warn me first.”
“Wow. Try being a bit more encouraging, will you?”
Little Red Riding Hood saw Yu Sheng’s lips moving but couldn’t catch what he was saying. Suddenly, she felt a powerful force tugging at her, breaking her link to the Black Forest. Something from the outside was dragging her away. The unfamiliar sensation made her blurt, “What are you—” ŕÂΝ𝘖ᛒЕṤ
“Irene’s bringing you both out,” Yu Sheng said calmly. “It might feel weird—just don’t throw up on me when you wake.”
Before she could ask another question, she and the little girl—Xiao Xiao—vanished from the small house. The seven or eight shadow wolves vanished, too.
Outside, the howls didn’t die down after Little Red Riding Hood left. In fact, they grew louder and angrier, and the forest bristled with tension.
“They’ve come for me,” Yu Sheng remarked without surprise. He understood that he was a “break” in the story—a presence that didn’t belong. Fairy tales weren’t fond of anyone who broke the rules.
Especially not adults. Fairy tales loathed adults the most.
Yet after a few seconds, Yu Sheng noticed something strange. Though the wolves circled closer, they seemed unwilling or unable to cross an unseen line around the cabin. They prowled and snarled outside but didn’t attempt to break in.
Puzzled, Yu Sheng studied the gloomy, silent house. The red cloaks everywhere, the long-dead hearth, and the extinguished candles gave a bleak impression, as if the house had been abandoned.
He recalled the squirrel’s words about how a house with no lit fire or lights would disappear, consumed by the forest just like all those vanished paths. These “safe places” existed only as fleeting illusions shaped by their light.
But somehow, this place was still standing.
Maybe, as Little Red Riding Hood had speculated, it was the “final place” of the story—spared from being swallowed but left abandoned in the forest’s darkest heart, the place where all Little Red Riding Hoods came to rest.
Ignoring the chaos outside, Yu Sheng set about exploring the cabin. The child was already rescued, so he felt more at ease. He turned over each red cloak, searched the cold ash in the fireplace, then pushed the wolf’s remains aside and flipped the bed itself.
And there, he paused.
Carved into the floorboards beneath the bed were strange, looping marks.
Yu Sheng crouched down, leaning close. In the dim house, it was tough to see, but his eyes flashed like a wolf’s in the dark. The marks were messy and random, almost like a jumble of letters—but so broken and scrambled that he could barely read them.
By straining his eyes, he managed to pick out a few words:
“… alive… dreaming… hidden in… all…”
His frown deepened. The writing was too fragmented to make sense. Instead of guessing, he ran his fingers over the rough grooves, trying to picture how they were made.
They felt like scratches from someone with sharp nails.
Human nails, but hardened like a wolf’s.
He followed the marks to the end, noticing that they got lighter and shallower as they went.
“Cold… hungry… can’t remember… wolves outside…
The final scratches were too faint to see clearly, as if the person making them had run out of strength. The carving stopped after “I am.”
Slowly, Yu Sheng stood, his face grim.
He guessed these scratches were left by some previous Little Red Riding Hood. Who else would have carved such messages?
But which one? Why here? And what had she discovered?
His gaze fell on the very first words:
Something here was alive? What was dreaming? What was hidden?
The wolf’s body lay motionless on the bed, most of its blood drained. Yu Sheng briefly wondered if the meat might be worth cooking.
A faint starlight trickled in through the dusty window.
The howling outside had disappeared. Now, the space beyond the little house felt deathly quiet.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation