Two years passed since the day she first met him.Fortunately, after that day, no one directly picked fights with Angela anymore.“Ugh, just seeing her puts me in a bad mood. Why’d she come into town today?”“Right? And that pitch-black cloak—doesn’t it creep you out?”“No kidding. Have you ever seen one of the dolls she makes? They say they look exactly like living people. There’s even a rumor she skins real humans to make them.”That did not mean the negative gazes toward her had disappeared. Of course not. The labels that followed her were still the same:“Half-breed born of a wooden doll.”“Witch who casts curses through dolls.”“They say if you make eye contact with the witch, she curses you. Someone saw her pupils turn thin like a snake’s!”The golden irises that should have been considered beautiful and rare had, in her case, become ominous. And her black hair—uncommon within the kingdom—only fueled the rumors.So Angela had grown accustomed to covering her entire body in a jet-black cloak whenever she went into town, hoping to give them less to criticize.I don’t even know how to curse anyone….As always, the only place she could protest was inside her own mind. She wondered if she might have lived differently had she possessed a stronger, more outspoken nature—someone who said what needed to be said without fear.“…Haa.”In the end, the true reason Angela was subjected to all of this stemmed from her ancestor, Geppetto Faber.The fairy tale Pinocchio, known in every nation. The Geppetto of that story was modeled after her ancestor—the founder of the Geppetto Doll Workshop Angela now ran.The real puppet-maker Geppetto had talent that approached divine craftsmanship.His works were praised as masterpieces incomparable anywhere in the world. Collectors from far-off continents had fought to obtain them.When the princess grew especially fond of one of his dolls, the king—who adored his daughter—granted Geppetto the surname Faber and the rank of baronet, even though he was merely a craftsman.Inspired by that event, a minor writer penned the fairy tale Pinocchio. As the book spread, Geppetto’s fame soared beyond imagination.The problem came after.Geppetto lived his life as a respected master craftsman and eventually left behind his workshop and returned to the earth with honor. However—his children and grandchildren did not inherit even half his talent. Naturally, the workshop’s prestige faded with time.What remained were only the rumors that the workshop’s founder was the real Geppetto of the fairy tale. So the descendants were mocked as the children of a “wooden doll,” and faced constant scorn.But they could not shut the workshop down. The king who granted the title had commanded that the Faber family maintain the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° workshop across generations.Yet the title was in name only. They received no noble privileges, no benefits. It was a burden without reward.In truth, the name was more of a curse. Even without talent, the heirs were forced to continue crafting dolls.Pinocchio is just a fairy tale…No matter how often they explained that the story was fiction and Geppetto had merely been its inspiration, people still rejected the Fabers.Creating cloth dolls or harmless children’s playthings changed nothing. The rumors clung stubbornly on.“Let’s just get what we came for and go back.”Even now, when education had spread and everyone knew wooden dolls cannot become human, the villagers still did not welcome Angela.The workshop’s tarnished reputation, combined with the rumors of witchcraft, had stuck to her like a brand.People could not understand why her dolls looked so lifelike. So they called her terrifying. They called her cursed.I only ever wanted to make something beautiful….Angela feared people. Feared the groundless malice, the blame, the way no one stood on her side.She had no family to shield her, no one who would stand beside her simply because she existed.Her relatives had all run from the Faber name, sick of Pinocchio, vanishing without a trace. Only Angela’s father had remained to uphold the workshop—but when she was seven, both her parents died of an epidemic.Left alone so young, Angela survived only thanks to the help of a doll shop owner who visited the workshop periodically.“Angela, you’re here?”“Good afternoon, Uncle Mark.”Mark ran the largest and oldest doll shop in the kingdom—Pupellis Doll Shop. Angela supported herself by supplying dolls to him.“That cloak of yours can’t be comfortable. Don’t you have trouble seeing with it pulled so low?”Angela only bowed her head. Mark sighed heavily—he knew very well why she dressed this way.“So you must have finished early this time. You’ve brought the doll already?”“Yes. Here.”Mark accepted the wooden box she carried, eyes full of expectation. The moment he opened the lid, his breath caught in genuine admiration.“Good heavens, Angela. How do you create masterpieces like this every single time? This is far beyond what I imagined!”“Thank you for the compliment.”“That’s not a compliment—it’s reverence! The idea that I have to hand this beauty over to someone else…”Though he ran a doll shop, his real work was serving as an intermediary—acquiring dolls from master artisans for collectors.He had met countless craftsmen. None had ever matched Angela.“Just look at the skin texture… the expression… The completion of the eyes and clothing! Angela, I’ll secure a far higher payment than we discussed. Trust me.”Angela had developed a new crafting method that went beyond simple carved wood or baked clay.It allowed color, texture, and softness to appear more lifelike than ever.Unlike wooden or porcelain dolls, hers did not crack easily and had a gentle, supple feel like real human skin.Because of that, Angela’s dolls were considered rare, coveted treasures among collectors. Ironically, the rumors surrounding her only drove the prices higher.So the number of people desperate to obtain one of her dolls was countless—like stars scattered across the sky.

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