"Margaret, Margaret! Get out!"
"You don't have to grow according to others' wishes; you can choose your own life." Margaret took a sip of absinthe, the sour, bitter, and spicy taste flowing down her throat, burning her esophagus. "You don't have to be beautiful and avoid criticism, you don't have to be excellent and endure mockery, you don't have to be diligent and avoid mistakes, you don't have to be obedient to be loved, you don't have to be ordinary and be ostracized or cold-shouldered. There's a chance to correct mistakes, and there's more than one right path."
Feria set down her fork and stared at Margaret for a long time.
"My dear," the witch with chestnut-red hair said, "you're too greedy, even more so than me. You're a full-fledged dreamer."
"Is it a dream?" Margaret countered.
"It's a dream," Feria affirmed.
She got up and took Margaret's hand.
