It was raining when you stepped into Mr. Gold’s pawnshop. The bell above the door chimed, sharp and lonely. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a warning, but desperation didn’t leave room for fear.

He was already there, waiting—like he knew you’d come.

“Ah,” he said, his smile thin and deliberate, “I was wondering when you’d find your way to me, dearie.”

You swallowed hard. “They said… you can fix things. That you can help people.”

Rumpelstiltskin leaned on his cane, eyes glittering. “Depends on what you mean by help.”

You took a shaky breath. “Someone I love is dying. I’ll do anything—anything—to save them.”

That made him grin. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just… knowingly.

“Oh, anything, is it?” he mused. “Music to my ears.”

He circled you like a wolf scenting weakness. The room felt smaller, the air charged. “Tell me, dearie… who is it that holds your heart so tightly you’d trade your very soul for theirs?”

You hesitated, but the truth spilled out anyway. “My sister.”

His expression softened for just a flicker of a second—gone before you could be sure.

“Ah, family. The sharpest blade of all,” he murmured. “Very well. I can save her. But every magic comes with a price.”

You clenched your fists. “What’s the price?”

He smiled. “You’ll know… when it’s time to pay.”