As she turned around, her feet got tangled, and she almost fell, but the owner of the voice quickly caught her.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry for startling you. That wasn’t my intention…”

“B-Brussel?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Brussel smiled softly as he helped her stand upright.

Ann’s heart pounded loudly, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the scare or because of the man standing before her.

“You couldn’t sleep, I see. A moonlit stroll is charming, but isn’t it a bit dangerous to walk alone at this hour?”

“I was planning to head back after a short walk.”

“Then, would you mind if I joined you?”

“No, of course not.”

Ann’s legs were already aching, but she began walking alongside him again.

Her gaze kept drifting toward his glossy bronze skin, dark brown hair, and kind brown eyes.

Trying to avoid being obvious, she deliberately turned her head the other way.

She wished he would say something, but Brussel remained silent as they walked together.

“Um, excuse me… Is your wife away?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Did she pass away? Or were they divorced?

Her attempt to start a conversation had turned into an awkward misstep.

Ann stared at the ground, berating herself.

“No, I meant I’ve never had a wife to begin with.”

“What?”

Was he a single father?

Brussel stopped walking and looked down at Ann with a smile.

Without realizing it, Ann held her breath.

She had entered the Hauser household at twenty, become the nanny and personal maid to young lady Merchen at twenty-four, and vowed not to concern herself with men until the young lady grew up and got married…

She was now twenty-seven.

Yet here she was, her resolve shaken by the warm, spring breeze-like smile of a suspicious single father who claimed to be a fairy.

“You must have already heard from young lady Merchen that we are fairies. Since you’ve stayed in our village for quite some time, you’re now a resident of Greenvalley. So, I’ll be honest with you. Fairies don’t have children the same way humans do.”

Ann had been staring blankly at his handsome smile, but she blinked in confusion as she processed his words.

“Don’t have children the same way?”

“Yes. You’ve probably seen the ancient tree standing tall in the center of our village. Although the timing isn’t exact, about every fifty years, a large flower blooms on that tree. After the flower wilts, it bears fruit, and inside that fruit, a baby is born. For one year, the entire village takes turns raising the child together. Then, on the child’s first birthday, they choose their guardian.”

Ann widened her eyes as she listened to what sounded like a story straight out of a fairy tale.

He spoke so seriously about babies being born from fruit.

Could all of this possibly be true?

Was this man really a fairy?

“Sprout chose me. That’s how I became his father.”

“….”

“Sprout is almost fifty years old now, so in a few years, the flower will bloom again. Then, you’ll be able to witness the birth of a fairy yourself.”

“Really?”

She could see it with her own eyes?

There was no room left for doubt.

Ann began to see this small, fairy-tale-like village in a new light.

The handsome, tousle-haired man standing before her also seemed even more mysterious.

The scene of “a baby being born from fruit,” which she had found absurd just moments ago, now seemed wondrous and awe-inspiring when she thought about it again.

“Yes, it’s true. On that day, the entire village gathers to hold a small festival.”

Brussel smiled as he gently tugged her hand.

Ann dumbly stared as his long fingers softly caught and took hold of her hand.

“And so…”

Brussel kissed the hand he had pulled toward him.

At the strange sensation of his lips lightly brushing against her skin, Ann gasped and inhaled sharply.

Under the moonlight, his deepened eyes gazed at her intently.

His lips, pressed gently against the back of her hand, moved subtly.

“I am single, Ann.”

***

Sprout guided Rory and me around the village, showing us every corner of Greenvalley.

Though it didn’t have a single shop, Greenvalley was a small yet perfectly self-sufficient village.

“It might not look like it, but this is a pumpkin patch. Fairies are good with plants, so we’re excellent at farming. But pumpkins don’t grow very well here.”

Among the vines and large pumpkin leaves, small green fruits were scattered here and there.

They were about the size of tiny tomatoes.

Sprout picked one of the undergrown pumpkins and showed it to us with a smile.

“Still, they don’t taste bad. If you make jam out of them, it’s actually pretty decent.”

There were vegetable gardens growing chicory, celery, and carrots, an orchard nestled on the edge of the forest, a garden filled with herbs, and flower beds everywhere.

The entire village was lush and beautiful.

Built without disturbing the forest, Greenvalley blended perfectly with nature and radiated vitality.

The fairies sang songs while playing instruments, farmed, climbed trees to nap, and enjoyed a peaceful, carefree afternoon.

Sprout approached a long, horizontal mushroom-shaped house and began explaining.

“This is the workshop where we make thread. Mamalu teaches her apprentices here.”

“Mamalu?”

“Yes. Among the fairies, Mamalu is the best at spinning thread.”

Sprout opened the door slightly to give us a peek inside.

The room was filled with spinning wheels, and fairies sat in front of them, spinning thread.

The sight of their hands deftly working was as if it had been plucked straight from an old masterpiece painting.

“When enough thread is spun to fill those sacks, Father takes it out to sell. The thread is our village’s main source of income. It sells for quite a high price.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

I peeked through the crack in the door, my eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Watching the unfamiliar sight of spinning wheels turning to create thread felt like being in a museum.

Rory, too, widened his pretty eyes in fascination.

“Would you and Rory like to try it?”

“Can we?”

“Go ahead, go ahead.”

Sprout nudged us forward and led us inside.

Mamalu welcomed us without any sign of surprise at our sudden visit.

“Oh my, how adorable. Come on in.”

It seemed Mamalu and the other fairies couldn’t see my true identity.

Their warm gazes were simply those of people looking at cute children.

So why was it that only Sprout and Brussel could see me?

Was it because Brussel was the village chief?

While I was lost in thought, Sprout spoke up.

“Mamalu, can we try spinning the wheel?”

“You can watch, but you can’t touch the spinning wheel. What if your delicate hands get scratched?”

“Delicate hands? You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“Of course not. I’m talking about these adorable little ones. Sprout, a little prick from a needle won’t even leave a mark on you.”

“That’s so mean, Mamalu. Worry about me too, will you?”

Sprout whined as he hugged her.

Mamalu shook her head but still lifted Sprout up effortlessly.

I approached her and asked, “Hello, Mamalu. Could you teach us how to spin the wheel?”

“Of course. I’ll show you. But don’t come too close. If you get pricked by the needle, you might fall into an eternal sleep.”

Mamalu set Sprout down and cackled like a witch, trying to scare us.

Rory, startled, grabbed my clothes and hid behind me.

“Is that true?”

“Of course. I always tell the truth.”

Mamalu looked like a natural-born trickster.

Caught off guard, Rory clung to my back as I tilted my head to glance up at his face.

He was examining the spinning wheel intently, his gaze filled with suspicion.

“Rory, what’s wrong?”