The defeated ghost, Aurelia, sat quietly on her knees in the snow, fidgeting awkwardly, her eyes darting away, too embarrassed to meet anyone's gaze. The haunting chill of winter surrounded her (even though it's the autumn season now in Evendelle), but it was nothing compared to the silent tension of waiting to be questioned by Detective Ryo.
For the first time, Ryo had a proper moment to really look at Aurelia. Earlier, her 'misunderstanding trope' antics had stolen the spotlight—but now, with the ghost mother sitting still and quiet, no longer bound by denial or hostility, he could finally see her face as it truly was.
And it nearly knocked the wind out of him.
She was beautiful. No—overwhelmingly beautiful.
Even more than the gorgeous stepsisters—though Ryo had thought they were ugly at first. And that was saying something.
Her face was gentle and smooth, with high cheekbones and a soft jaw. Her clear blue eyes, framed by long lashes and soft brown eyebrows, held a quiet sadness but also calm.
Her golden hair flowed down in soft waves, shining like silk in the light. A few strands fell across her cheeks, like they were gently placed there by something magical. Her lips were soft and pink, like rose petals, quiet, delicate and beautiful.
She had died in her twenties—and now, as a ghost, she remained forever frozen in the full bloom of youth.
Ryo couldn't help but wonder.
"If Cinderella's mother is this beautiful… then how beautiful must Cinderella be in this world?"
He looked dazed, practically spellbound as he stared.
Aurelia noticed. Her eyes widened, and she turned her head slightly—then instantly looked away, blushing like a high school girl who'd just caught her crush staring from across the classroom. Soft steam puffed from the top of her ghostly head.
Fairy Greatmother watched the whole thing unfold and sighed long and deep.
She gave Ryo a sharp but non-aggressive tap on the back.
"Ahem!"
Ryo blinked and snapped out of his daze. "Oh!"
Fairy Greatmother shook her head with her eyes gently closed, her voice half amused, half scolding.
"Mr. Detective, I know you're the type who likes to charm women… but please, focus on your job for now instead of trying to charm Cinderella's mother as well."
"Huh?" Ryo blinked and turned to her, confused—like the dense protagonist he is.
Then he glanced back at Aurelia—who had now buried her glowing red face in her hands. Steam kept rising.
"Oh! Sorry about that, Madam Aurelia…" Ryo laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. He had unknowingly almost charmed a mature ghost character who still looked like she was in her twenties.
Aurelia slowly lowered her hands from her face, still flushed with embarrassment, peeking at him from behind her golden hair.
Ryo gave himself a light slap on both cheeks, snapping back into detective mode. He reached into his backpack, pulled out his notebook and pen, and clicked it open with a serious expression.
"Are you ready, Madam?"
Aurelia, placing both hands gently on her knees, gave a small but firm nod.
But before Ryo could begin questioning anything about the cracked glass slipper… or dive deeper into Cinderella's mysterious disappearance—if Aurelia knew anything about it—he knew there was a more important place to start.
The beginning.
He studied the woman kneeling before him—not just as a grieving ghost or a mother—but as a legend.
The Snow Queen.
Ryo had read the story of the Snow Queen as a kid, a tale of winter, loss, icy hearts, and cold kingdoms. But nothing in those books ever told him this… that the Snow Queen was real, just like the Cinderella characters he'd met.
And that the Snow Queen was Cinderella's mother.
It was like two fairy tales had collided—an impossible crossover come to life.
Earlier, during her misunderstanding trope meltdown, Aurelia said something strange—something that stuck with him:
She was the former Snow Queen of a place called Glacindor.
That name never existed in the storybooks. In the original Snow Queen story, the icy domain was never given a name. But here in this world, it had one.
Glacindor…
A kingdom that must've once shimmered in frost and mystery.
And now… the once-regal queen of that land knelt before him, humbled and lost.
But that wasn't the only thing burning in Ryo's mind.
There was one more truth he needed to hear from her lips. Something cold… and brutal.
Her murder.
Back in yesterday's subtle interrogation, Stepmother had told him that Aurelia died from a slashed throat. But that was all… no further details about the real murderer.
Now the victim herself—the ghost of the Snow Queen—sat directly in front of him.
It was time to hear her story.
From the very beginning.
But before Ryo could open his mouth, Fairy Greatmother spoke up first, her voice soft yet sharp with intent.
"Aurelia… are you really a Frostreaver?"
Frostreavers, as Fairy Greatmother had mentioned before, were vile beings known to wield terrifying ice magic. They were the leading suspects behind Cinderella's disappearance—especially after the discovery of that chilling ice bedsheet left behind in her castle bedroom.
Aurelia's expression dropped as she looked down, defeated.
"Yes, I am a Frostreaver." Then she glanced aside, her voice low and pained. "But is that really important right now?"
Fairy Greatmother nodded gravely.
"Why yes. Because Frostreavers are evil beings, I want to confirm if one of your kind truly did kidnap your daughter."
Aurelia frowned, her tone snapping back with a wounded pride.
"My people—who I once ruled—are never the type to do such evil! They would never kidnap my Cinderella!"
Before the tension could escalate into an argument, Ryo raised a hand between the two.
"Sorry to interrupt, but ma'am, can you explain what these Frostreavers, Aurelia's people, did that's evil before?"
Aurelia turned toward him sharply, voice raised.
"MY PEOPLE WOULD NEVER DO SUCH EVIL!"
Ryo held up a defensive hand, calm but firm.
"Easy, Madam Aurelia. Let's hear out what Ma'am has to say first."
Aurelia crossed her arms, pouting with a stubborn mumble.
"But my people are good people…"
Fairy Greatmother looked at Ryo and gave a small nod.
"Very well."
Ryo readied his pen and notebook.
Fairy Greatmother began explaining…
Frostreavers are not just ice magic users—they possess the forbidden ability to freeze time itself.
Eighteen years ago, a year after Aurelia's death, a rogue faction of Frostreavers invaded a realm beyond this one and cast a curse upon a distant kingdom.
Since then, that kingdom's time has moved forward—but at an extremely slow pace. While the outside world has aged and changed normally, that cursed kingdom barely progresses beyond the moment it was cursed.
The effects are chilling: The people don't age. The ruler never changes. Technological and social progress have halted entirely.
To the outside world, thousands of years may pass, but inside that kingdom, only days—or mere hours—or even minutes slip by. It's a broken hourglass kingdom, sealed by cursed ice and time.
Ryo paused writing.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Three times.
He slowly lowered his pen and notebook and let out the dramatic, sarcastic groan of the century, arms limp at his sides.
"Great. So evil versions of Aurelia's icy people can cause time dilations. This is perfectly normal. A kingdom stuck in time, and only a few hours or days passed even though maybe a trillion years flew by? Totally normal! Just your everyday cursed frozen magical clock spell moving slower than a turtle racing a bunny that's always screaming 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!'"
Fairy Greatmother and Aurelia just blinked at him—deadpan and silent, completely lost in translation because Ryo's Earth sarcasm came without a fairytale subtitle.
Ryo sighed and waved a hand.
"Nevermind… forget the sarcasm that always automatically comes out of my mouth."
He snapped open his notebook again, standing straight, pen ready.
"Finding Cinderella is more important now, ladies."
This time, Fairy Greatmother and Aurelia both nodded in agreement.
But Aurelia looked down, worried.
"Did my people really… do that? I never knew they held such cursed magic strong enough to freeze time…"
Unfortunately, yes.
But Fairy Greatmother remained silent.
The weight of regret pressed heavily on Aurelia's heart.
She thought. "If only I were still alive, perhaps I could have controlled my people… stopped them from committing such a crime as freezing the time of an entire kingdom in another realm."
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. She had been murdered. Everything spiraled out of her control the moment she handed baby Cinderella to stepmother.
Ryo adjusted his notebook, serious and steady.
"Madam, could you tell us everything? From the very beginning—your life as the Queen of Glacindor, all the way to the path that led to your death… and why you no longer trust humans, all except for your daughter."
Aurelia lifted her gaze to Ryo and gave a slow, solemn nod.
And so, she began…
Back when Aurelia was fifteen, she wandered the snowy mountains—alone, heartbroken, exiled. She had been cast out of her old kingdom by her own people… and by her parents.
Her ice magic had grown uncontrollable, triggering a brutal famine. Crops withered, rivers froze over, and fishermen could no longer cast their nets. She became a walking curse.
So, they banished her.
To escape the crushing loneliness, she began crafting a kingdom of her own. From frost and solitude, she shaped a new home in the mountains and named it Glacindor.
At its heart, she built a magnificent castle made of living ice. But even with her own throne beneath crystal spires, loneliness clung to her like winter air. Days passed, and she sat in silence.
One afternoon, while gathering food near a riverside far below the mountains, Aurelia spotted two teenagers around her age—a boy and a girl—sitting under a tree, telling stories and laughing together.
When they noticed her, Aurelia panicked and ran. But the boy chased after her, gently catching her by the arm.
She shouted for him to let go, and when he didn't, her reflexes triggered: a thin frost bloomed over his palm. Startled, he released her. The ice instantly melted, harmless… but Aurelia fled in shame.
Two days later, as she sat on her frozen throne, a knock echoed through the massive doors of her castle.
She opened them—and there they were. The same boy and girl, bundled in thick, fur-lined coats, trembling from the cold. They looked like they were on the brink of freezing to death.
Without thinking, and moved by concern, she let them in and brought them to a warmer room with a fireplace. As they slowly warmed up from the cold, they introduced themselves with warm, grateful smiles. The boy was Kaj, and the girl, Gerda—childhood friends.
Ryo abruptly raised a hand, pausing her backstory, his eye twitching.
"Madam… did you just say the boy's name was… Kaj? And the girl… Gerda?"
Aurelia blinked. "Of course. Are their names surprising to you?"
Ryo stiffened, his voice shaky. "No… not really. please continue."
But inside, his mind was a snowstorm only the Snow Queen could survive.
"HOLY CRAP!!! KAJ AND GERDA ARE REAL TOO?! JUST LIKE IN THE SNOW QUEEN TALE! THEY EXIST HERE IN THIS FAIRYTALE WORLD?! AND AURELIA KNOWS THEM?! SHE REALLY IS THE FREAKING ORIGINAL SNOW QUEEN!!!"
Aurelia tilted her head, puzzled by Ryo's reaction.
"I shall… continue…"
Kaj and Gerda asked for her name, and she gave it. They wanted to be friends. Aurelia hesitated. She feared hurting them with her unpredictable powers.
But when they held her hands with bright smiles, something changed. Her heart felt light. Her magic didn't lash out. For the first time, she felt in control.
From that day on, Kaj and Gerda visited once a week. They laughed, played, and built snow creatures together. Aurelia no longer felt alone.
One day, Kaj came alone. Gerda was sick, he said. Aurelia told him he should've stayed with her—but then he knelt down and confessed his love. Aurelia was stunned. No one had ever said such words to her, not after what she had done—especially not after being abandoned.
But Kaj insisted, and though she rejected him at first, he returned again and again—two, sometimes three times a week. Gerda's visits became rarer. She grew frustrated with Kaj's obsession.
After four years, Aurelia finally gave in. Kaj had proven his loyalty. They fell in love.
They married at age 21.
Kaj moved into her castle. With no servants to help raise a future child, Kaj suggested hiring some. But Aurelia was terrified—if word spread, the people of her former kingdom might find her and destroy everything.
So, she proposed a different idea... she would create servants. Not real humans—dolls shaped like them, formed from enchanted ice. As an experiment, she crafted a female maid in a frilly white dress."
Kaj was amazed and encouraged her to create more, hundreds of enchanted ice dolls. She breathed magic into them, and they came to life, serving them. Together, Kaj and Aurelia became rulers over these creations and called themselves the Frostreavers, the rulers and people of Glacindor.
Two years later, when both were 23, a baby was born.
They named her Cinderella.
They vowed to raise her as the future Queen of Glacindor. For a moment… all was perfect.
But the joy didn't last.
Four months after Cinderella's birth, Kaj changed.
One day, Aurelia entered his room with her servants—and froze.
Kaj wore a twisted grin, his eyes wide and distant. At first, he stared out the window, then turned to them when Aurelia called his name. He walked past her and the servants without a word. Day after day, he grew colder. He no longer touched Cinderella and no longer smiled like before.
Then, one day, he apologized. Aurelia didn't forgive him right away. He tried to cheer her up with a surprise family trip.
She agreed, though reluctantly.
They rode by carriage. Aurelia, holding her sleeping daughter, was blindfolded by Kaj because he wanted to surprise her with their destination. After four hours, the carriage stopped.
They exited the carriage, but for some odd reason, it rolled away on its own. Aurelia heard the horse's trot fading into the distance. Then Kaj gently lifted her blindfold.
What she saw… broke her heart.
They stood in the farmlands of her old kingdom. But the fields were frozen solid. And they were surrounded—villagers, soldiers, even her parents. All glaring.
Aurelia turned to Kaj, terrified, and asked him what was going on.
He just smiled smugly.
Then he shouted to the people, pointing at her. "Aurelia is the one who froze the fields!"
He lied.
He betrayed her.
He falsely accused her.
He threw all the blame on her.
And the mob believed him, remembering the times Aurelia had lost control of her ice magic before.
Rocks flew. Torches were raised. Her own parents called her an evil witch. They attacked with pitchforks, axes, blades.
Clutching Cinderella close, Aurelia protected herself with her ice magic while doing her best to shield her baby.
Then Kaj kicked her in the gut. She fell but quickly picked herself up, clutching Cinderella tightly as she endured the pain and ran.
For five days, she fled—secretly finding food, breastfeeding Cinderella while hiding in caves and forests, never resting. All the while, Kaj and the people from the old kingdom kept searching for her, determined to punish her and, even worse, end her.
At last, she reached Evendelle.
On a stormy night, she found the manor of a kind woman—the Stepmother, Ms. Rosalind—and handed over Cinderella before running off after saying a final farewell to her beloved daughter, drenched in the rain.
She had to protect her daughter, even though she knew she might not be alive the next day, or even survive at all.
Aurelia kept running.
She reached the village square… and collapsed, exhausted.
On the ground, she heard a sinister chuckle. Her breath caught, eyes wide with horror, as she turned around and saw Kaj again, alone this time, knife in hand, his eyes mysteriously dark, the blade dripping with black miasma.
She demanded answers in a loud but weary voice.
"WHY? WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"
Kaj grinned—and lunged.
Aurelia quickly stood up and they fought—dark magic against ice—but she was too weak from days of running like a fugitive while being pursued. Kaj overwhelmed her, and she fell onto her back. He bound her hands and feet, then stomped on her chest, laughing like a madman.
"You were always a burden," he sneered.
Aurelia gasped, and tears began to fall. Kaj—the man who had once desperately begged for her love—was now her executioner. It felt like all the love and memories they had shared were nothing but a waste of time, only for it to end in betrayal… and her death.
She spat in his face, defiant.
"Go die, you monster,' she whispered, her eyes filled with hatred.
Kaj clenched his teeth, rage twisting his face. The black miasma on his knife thickened—and with one brutal slash across her throat…
…Aurelia died.
Alone. Betrayed. Forgotten.
One cold evening, she awoke above her own grave… drifting silently in the shadowed grove. She looked down at her hands fragile and translucent her very body fading like mist.
Tears welled up, spilling down like sorrow made visible, her fingers trembling. She was no longer alive, yet couldn't find peace—a restless ghost bound by unbearable grief and burning rage.
Her mournful cries shattered the stillness, echoing through the silent trees, a heartbroken wail that would not be silenced.
She remembered everything. The betrayal, the lies, the hatred from the people of her old kingdom, and the person she once loved.
She could no longer trust humans.
Only Cinderella, her daughter, still held her love.
And that… was Aurelia's story.