Mythophile—a person with an obsessive fascination for myths, folklore, and legends. Some called them paranormal enthusiasts, while others simply dismissed them as dreamers chasing impossible fantasies.
Gino had been a mythophile for as long as he could remember.
To him, myths were more than bedtime stories or ancient superstitions. They were an escape from the harsh reality of everyday life. While others spent their free time partying, traveling, or climbing the corporate ladder, Gino devoted every spare moment to researching forgotten folklore, investigating urban legends, and searching for traces of the supernatural.
His coworkers often laughed at him.
"You're crazy," they would say whenever he returned from another expedition with nothing but muddy boots and another notebook full of theories.
Gino never argued.
Perhaps they were right.
But if pursuing the unknown made him crazy, then he gladly accepted the title. After all, there was no greater thrill than standing before a mystery that had yet to be explained.
One day, his obsession brought him to a remote coastal village. Local legend spoke of an underwater cave hidden beneath the cliffs—a place said to be the lair of sirens. Gino knew better than to take the tale at face value. Stories like these were often embellished over generations, kept alive to attract curious tourists and adventurous divers.
Still...
Truth or fiction, it didn't matter to him.
The journey itself was worth taking.
With his diving gear secured and his camera strapped to his chest, Gino descended into the cold, dark sea, chasing yet another legend.
He never resurfaced.
Whether it was a powerful current, failing equipment, or simply fate, no one would ever know. The ocean silently claimed another life, and the world would remember him as nothing more than a reckless man who had taken one risk too many.
As consciousness slipped away and darkness consumed him, Gino found himself smiling.
He had no regrets.
If reincarnation truly existed...
Then, in his next life—
He wished to see just one mythological creature with his own eyes.
Pain.
That was the first thing Gino felt.
A sharp, throbbing pain spread from the side of his head as warm blood trickled down his cheek. His body swayed gently while an icy wind brushed against his skin.
"..."
His eyelids fluttered open.
Above him stretched an endless blue sky, dotted with drifting clouds.
The sky...?
His thoughts were sluggish.
The last thing he remembered was diving into the sea in search of an underwater cave rumored to be the lair of sirens.
Then...
Darkness.
He had drowned.
So why was he alive?
As his vision slowly focused, Gino realized he wasn't lying on the ground.
He was moving.
No...
He was flying.
Bony arms held him tightly against a frail body.
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He slowly lifted his gaze.
The old woman carrying him looked as though she had stepped out of an ancient nightmare. Wrinkled skin clung tightly to her skeletal frame, wisps of gray hair danced wildly in the wind, and an impossibly long hooked nose dominated her face. She stood effortlessly inside an enormous wooden mortar, steering it through the sky with a giant pestle.
Gino froze.
"...Baba Yaga."
The words escaped his lips before he could stop them.
There was no mistaking her.
The flying mortar.
The giant pestle.
The terrifying appearance.
Every description matched the legendary witch of Slavic folklore.
For one brief moment...
His heart filled with excitement.
His lifelong dream had come true.
Every myth.
Every forgotten legend.
Every expedition people mocked him for.
It had all led to this impossible moment.
He had finally seen a mythical creature with his own eyes.
Then reality came crashing down.
His hands.
They were too small.
Thin fingers.
Short arms.
A child's body.
His clothes were torn, soaked with blood.
He instinctively reached toward the side of his head.
His fingers came away crimson.
"I'm..."
His voice was high.
Young.
"I'm a child..."
Memories flooded back.
The ocean.
The cave.
The crushing current.
His lungs burning.
He had died.
His breathing became uneven.
"...I really reincarnated."
The old witch glanced over her shoulder.
Golden eyes narrowed.
"...I thought I killed you."
Her raspy voice sent chills down his spine.
"You woke up, naughty child."
Every trace of excitement vanished.
She hadn't rescued him.
She had kidnapped him.
Images from countless books flashed through his mind.
Children stolen from the forest.
A giant oven.
A hut walking on chicken legs.
Parents warning their children never to wander too far from home.
His instincts screamed at him to escape.
But logic prevailed.
He was injured.
Hundreds of feet above the forest.
Even if he somehow slipped free, the fall would kill him instantly.
Think...
Not every version of Baba Yaga was evil.
Some tales portrayed her as a cruel cannibal.
Others described her as an ancient guardian who tested those who sought her wisdom.
Many heroes survived by remaining respectful.
Some even left her hut with magical gifts.
If the folklore was true...
Then perhaps the rules were as well.
He steadied his breathing.
"...Miss Baba Yaga?"
The old witch raised an eyebrow.
"What is it?"
Gino swallowed.
"...Are you a bad Baba Yaga?"
Silence.
Then the old woman laughed.
"What a peculiar child."
She studied him with curious eyes.
"I've carried many children."
"You're the first to ask me that."
Gino forced himself to smile despite the fear gripping his heart.
"If you're good..."
"I'll do my best to behave."
"And if I'm evil?"
She grinned.
"Then..."
Gino lowered his head respectfully.
"I suppose being polite is still the right thing to do."
For a brief moment...
Baba Yaga simply stared at him.
Then another laugh escaped her lips.
"Interesting."
She said nothing more.
But she also made no attempt to kill him.
Gino silently released the breath he had been holding.
Maybe...
Just maybe...
The stories hadn't lied.
The forest stretched endlessly beneath them until something massive emerged from the trees.
At first, Gino mistook it for an ordinary wooden cottage.
Then it moved.
Two gigantic chicken legs stepped over the forest floor, each one thicker than the trunks of ancient pines. The wooden hut swayed with every heavy stride, its windows resembling watchful eyes.
Gino's heartbeat quickened.
The Hut...
It's really here...
Every illustration he had ever collected suddenly came to life before him.
Baba Yaga guided her mortar gently to the ground.
The walking hut continued wandering through the clearing until the old witch called out.
"Little House, Little House! Turn your back to the forest, your face to me!"
The earth trembled.
The enormous chicken legs came to a halt.
Slowly...
The hut turned.
Wood groaned loudly as the entire cottage rotated until its front door faced Baba Yaga.
Gino stared in amazement.
The command...
It worked exactly as the legends described.
The witch smiled with satisfaction before speaking once more.
"Hut of brown, now sit down!"
The gigantic legs bent at the knees.
The entire house lowered itself toward the earth.
As it knelt, the roof leaned forward, bringing the doorway gently to ground level like a loyal servant bowing before its master.
Goosebumps spread across Gino's arms.
Every detail...
Every impossible detail...
Matched the folklore from his previous world.
Baba Yaga stepped from her mortar and adjusted Gino over her shoulder.
"So..."
She chuckled.
"Let's see whether you're truly a good child."
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
She was only a few paces from the doorway.
Then—
A deafening screech echoed across the forest.
Something enormous plunged from the heavens.
Before Baba Yaga could even react...
A gigantic talon burst through her back.
Blood sprayed across the clearing.
The witch screamed as Gino slipped from her grasp, tumbling across the moss-covered ground.
He rolled several times before crashing into the roots of a tree.
His vision blurred.
His ears rang.
He forced himself to look up.
A monstrous winged figure landed between him and Baba Yaga.
The old witch staggered backward in shock.
"What—"
A massive claw seized her face.
With a sickening crack...
Her head was ripped clean from her body.
Blood splattered across the forest floor.
The headless corpse collapsed with a dull thud.
Silence followed.
The creature slowly spread its enormous wings.
Its lower body belonged to a giant bird of prey, ending in razor-sharp talons stained with fresh blood.
Its upper body, however...
Was unmistakably human.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Gino's eyes widened.
A Harpy...
His body refused to move.
He had survived Baba Yaga...
Only to find himself at the mercy of another creature from legend.
He slowly closed his eyes.
Perhaps...
His second life was about to end just as suddenly as it had begun.