It is an open secret that no story ends well. That the only thing that can save us from sad endings is to stop our curiosity in time. If we insist on knowing, if we insist that things be revealed to us, sooner or later we will encounter decadence, pain, or tragedy.

Let's take an example: the beautiful, poor and abused girl has the opportunity to fall in love with a dream prince. We want to know more. We learn that they dance all night and fall in love. We need more data. They tell us that due to a problem with the punctuality of the spells, the girl leaves the dance and love, at exactly midnight. As an audience we feel that they cannot leave us with that anguish. They then make it clear to us that an improbable identity verification is unleashed throughout the kingdom based on a lost shoe. At that point we accept implausible things, such as that the state bureaucracy is so efficient as to quickly find the creature in question —discarding, incidentally, the imposture of a couple of half-sisters—, or that there are no girls in the whole region with feet small enough. And we accept that delusional conclusion because we need to know the ending. The end. THAT ending.