Before Cinderella, who had found her way back after getting lost, a small car was waiting, ready to follow the signposts.
I, who had lost my way in the Forest of Love, met a little duck on the darkest, coldest path.
This duck
looked small and insigni cant,
but to me, wandering inficomplete darkness, it felt like the most brilliant light.
In the original story, I would have ridden in a pumpkin carriage and raced toward my predetermined fate.
But ever since I met the duck, the course of the story has been changing little by little!
Instead of a pumpkin carriage, a small car
that could follow the signposts was waiting for me.