The villa appeared in front of her like a castle of modern fairy tales, and behind her, majestic and solemn, the Cathedral of Thiene stood out against the sky. It seemed to Giulia like a magical mountain, a gentle giant made of stone who watched over the secret garden.

With a small snap, he left his father’s hand and climbed the access staircase, his light steps on the stone. The balcony that ran down one side of the house instantly became her patrol walk, from which a princess could peer into the horizon of her kingdom. Beyond the large door of dark, massive and ancient wood, the wait dissolved into silent amazement.

He found himself in a very long corridor, so bright that it seemed to be crossed by its own sun. The light danced on the floor and illuminated, at the end, the elegant curve of a large staircase. But that wasn’t the one that stole her gaze. On the wall, a huge mirror with a sculpted and ancient frame captured every reflection. “Look, Dad!” he whispered, his voice a mixture of reverence and excitement. “It’s like the Queen’s! The one speaking!”. He approached slowly, almost on tiptoe. In the sparkle of the glass, her image smiled at her, but for a moment, a distorted reflection showed her not only her parents behind her, but the rooms that opened like doors onto parallel worlds: the living room, large and airy, a theater of light; the living room, welcoming, with its large window which was a living picture of the garden.

But it was by walking through the dining room door that his breathing stopped. A large wooden table, solid and majestic, towered in the center. “All seven dwarfs can fit here!” she exclaimed, turning around with open arms. And there, a French window invited her towards a small terrace and a staircase that went straight down into the garden, her personal Enchanted Forest.

The kitchen was a triumph of light and modernity, with its central peninsula. He reminded Giulia of the witch’s, yes, but in a good version, where the poisoned apples became fragrant apple pies and the magic potions were juicy smoothies.

Then it was time for the climb. The marble staircase wrapped around itself, mysterious. “Get to the towers!” he announced decisively, placing his hand on the polished and cold brass handrail. They climbed. Above, the kingdom of rest and dreams opened wide. Immediately, on the left, such a spacious walk-in closet made her eyes widen: “Here all the Queen’s ball gowns fit!”, she thought, imagining sumptuous dresses hanging in a row. “This is the Princess’s room,” he later declared, entering the large, light-filled master bedroom, with its private bathroom all to itself. The other rooms were for guests, for dwarves, for anyone who needed a safe haven where stories could be born.

But the magic wasn’t over. The descent into the underground tavern was the last, surprising chapter. Not a dark place, but a warm lounge divided into three rooms, perfect for large parties or intimate gatherings, which opened directly onto a patio, another stage for adventures.

In the end, he no longer held back the impulse. He ran into the garden, a green lung of almost 900 square meters in the heart of Thiene. The trees whispered stories to the wind. He turned to look at the house, every window a winking eye, every door an invitation. It was no longer just a house for sale. It was the place where fairy tales stopped being books and became life. And maybe, just maybe, the magic mirror was already looking for the new owners, wondering, “Who is the bravest of all, to start this new story?”.