[ALSO KNOWN AS "MATCH MADE IN HELL" ON WEBTOON ORIGINALS]
He's. . . hot, popular, and proud.
She's. . . plain, eccentric, and persistent.
There's nothing common between them except that they hate each other. Not good, right? But why is he determine...
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ღ Finding Cinderella-16 ღ
-Tristan-
The rest of the week went on smoothly, although there was a part of me that remained quite uneasy. Fiona had been watching my every move, and it seemed that luck hadn't been on my side these days. The social media wasn't of any help to me. I tried asking for the Queen's real identity on the campus group page, but no one really provided serious answers. Many girls claimed that they had been her, but my guts always told me otherwise.
"Here's the final one." Grey tossed a picture at my desk. "She's from my Economics class."
I gathered all the photos that the guys had collected from each female participant of the Fate dance and scrutinized them one by one.
First picture: a blonde with freckles across her face. Nah, Cinderella had dark hair.
Second picture: a ginger... nope.
Third picture: a pretty brunette. Ronnie Sullivan.
"Flip the photos," Grey suggested, leaning closer to my side. "We made them write the name of their Fate strings for you to be able to recognize them easily."
I flipped over Ronnie's photo. On the back was written: The Mask. I put it aside.
As I kept on turning each photograph, I felt as if I was sinking into the deepest part of the ocean, dissatisfaction drowning me in huge waves.
Seventh picture: a dark-haired one, The Hourglass.
Eighth picture: a short-haired, The Sunrise.
Ninth picture: a brunette, The Harp.
Tenth picture: a blonde, Monique Mayfield, The Turquoise.
Eleventh picture—
My fingers froze.
This last girl had long, curly black hair that was very familiar to me. Small, oval-shaped face... small nose... huge eyes... I covered her eyes with my finger like a mask. Her features were similar.
Was she the one?
I gulped.
"T, have you found her?" asked Grey.
Some doubt still lingered in my mind. I motioned for him to wait. Then I held my breath as I flipped the photo.
The Mirror.
Sighing, I threw the photo back to the pile. Justin picked it up.
"Hey, this one's cute," he said.
"But she's not her," I muttered. "None of them was Cinderella."
My friends fell into silence. We had come up with five plans, but they didn't seem to work out when we put them into action. There might as well have been 'epic fail' signs plastered on our foreheads.
