The Pikers were well-off farmers. Mrs. Piker's father owned a plot of land that he transformed into proper farmland, with cows, sheep, horses, and even potato fields. Since Mrs. Piker had no siblings, she inherited everything, and in turn, her husband became the one managing the farm.
When Sisi was brought into the farmhouse, she was given her own room, a set of dresses, and even her very first doll, a little girl doll wearing a fairy dress, complete with butterfly wings made of handwoven wool.
Of course, many donors gave used dolls to the orphans, but Sisi had always needed to share them with the other children. There was no "me" in the orphanage because they were taught to share everything.
Sisi thought it was normal to share, but the moment she got her hands on her own doll, she realized how nice it was to have something she didn't need to share at all.
Thus, she named the doll Little Sisi, something that embarrassed her a little whenever she remembered it.
As a little girl, Sisi had always dreamed of becoming a faerie, an uncommon fantasy, since faeries were known as mischievous creatures living deep in the forest who brought bad luck to travelers and hunters.
But it was her fantasy nonetheless, and she hugged Little Sisi every night as she fell asleep.
Though she was officially adopted, she became more like a servant and caretaker in her own home. Mrs. Piker's health was fragile, so she ordered Sisi around like a servant maid; fetching water from the well, cleaning the house, and even cooking. Sisi did everything Mrs. Piker couldn't do.
She didn't mind, though. She had worked hard in the orphanage before, so this didn't feel very different. It was also her way of showing gratitude to her adoptive mother.
But that didn't last long.
Mrs. Piker died when Sisi was twelve, and her life flipped upside down the moment Mr. Piker drove her back to the house after the funeral.
She was treated harshly by her adoptive father. Aside from doing the housework, she now had to help Mr. Piker on the farm as well. She woke up at dawn and slept just before midnight because she had to do everything, or else she would be beaten.
Yet still, it didn't break her spirit. At least she still had a safe place to rest at night. She knew better than to be ungrateful toward her benefactor… until she turned seventeen, one month ago.
Her adoptive father had begun eyeing her with a look that wasn't right. It didn't feel like a father looking at his daughter, it was like a man staring at a woman.
Filled with lust.
His gaze often trailed down to her collarbone, chest, waist, and lingered at her bottom. Sisi wasn't stupid. She knew that look, but she pretended not to notice, hoping he would eventually forget whatever he had in mind.
Sisi recalled everything that had happened to her. How he dragged her to the bed, and how she fought him fiercely. She was beaten until she turned blue and purple each time, but she never stopped resisting.
She recalled every memory she had from her seventeen years of life every time she fainted after being beaten, as if she were breathing her last.
But she always woke up again, still filled with the blazing flame of resistance. She didn't know where to go, because she had nobody except Mr. Piker in her life.
She couldn't return to the orphanage; it was in a town far from the farm, and she wouldn't trouble the Matriarch.
So in the end, she was trapped on this farm, simply waiting for death while she fiercely resisted her adoptive father's advances almost every single night.
Every night, as her memories flashed through her fading consciousness, she vividly remembered her time in the nursery, and her simple wish never changed.
I just want to go back to the nursery.
The cold wind of autumn blew harder as dark clouds gathered over the deep forest. A wounded boy was treading unsteadily through the woods. Sometimes his body swayed as the wind shook the trees, and the wounds across his body ached as if the wind had seeped into his bones.
But the boy continued. Though no older than four, resilience and determination shone clearly in his eyes. He had only one goal: to leave the forest and escape the enemies who wanted his head.
He gritted his teeth as he recalled the last thing he saw before his father threw him off the hill while fighting their enemies. That image of his father locked in combat with three tiger beastmen, bloodied but unyielding, was burned into his memory.
It was already dark when the boy woke again. With his battered body, he pushed forward, searching for an exit.
He still remembered his father's words:
If you are ever in a pinch, try to find a faerie. They are mischievous and can be dangerous, but they are kind to beast cubs and the pure-hearted.
Unfortunately, no matter how long he walked, he couldn't find any faerie. He began to think his father had lied to him, but his stubborn little heart refused to give up, so he kept going.
Fortunately, he finally arrived at the edge of the forest. As he stepped out, he saw a vast, flat land with no tall trees in sight, but plenty of buildings.
Four-year-old Jojo had lived deep in the forest all his life. Such a sight stunned him. He felt unsafe without trees to hide behind, but returning to the forest would only mean danger. He didn't know whether his father's enemies were still searching for him.
So, he decided to shift into his wolf-cub form for better concealment and approached the nearest building: a large wooden shed. He spotted a hole at the back, just big enough for him to squeeze through.
The cold wind was unbearable on his tattered body, so he slipped inside without hesitation.
The shed was dark, but as a wolf beastman, he had excellent night vision.
He looked around and found horses sleeping in their respective stalls.
Jojo was shivering, but curling up beside horses was too dangerous, they were big and not gentle. They could accidentally squash him in their sleep.
So he continued scanning the shed for warmth, and finally, his eyes landed on a human lying weakly on the ground.