<CHAPTER 5>
It looked like the comb would break or her hair would be pulled out.
“Miss, don’t do that. Come over here.”
The innkeeper, Anne, who had suddenly received guests late at night, had already set up overflowing hot water and a table full of food. She gestured to her. Bellona glanced at Sol, leaning against the stable fence.
“I’ll fix your hair a bit.”
Sol nonchalantly pointed to the innkeeper with his chin, as if telling her to go ahead. Bellona put her fiddled-with belongings back into her cloth bag, got up, and walked to the innkeeper. The woman placed a chair in the center of the yard and spread out some old newspapers. Then she wrapped the newspaper around Bellona’s neck.
“Sit here. I was going to let it slide, but I just can’t. Who would cut hair like it’s been eaten by rats?”
Interesting guests. A man with his face hidden and a somewhat dazed-looking woman, surely with a story. But the innkeeper didn’t question the ten gold coins the man handed over immediately. Surely, the payment included a hush fee.
“Oh… the dye is a mess too.”
Bellona moved her feet slightly under the newspaper. So it was dye.
“Ah, how did someone do this to your hair?”
The innkeeper was increasingly shocked as she checked Bellona’s hair. She first dealt with the immobile comb, then groaned for a while before speaking decisively.
“Miss, we need to cut it. It’s hopeless. The hair is tangled and knotted, and someone cut only one side. We’ll need to trim a lot.”
“Okay.”
As she had since losing her memory, Bellona quietly accepted it without question.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it very pretty. I cut all the local girls’ hair here. I even cut my daughter’s.”
“Yes.”
Following her gentle voice, scissors snipped through the green-dyed hair, falling to the floor. Now the longest strands reached past her elbows, and the shortest hugged her ears.
What color was her hair originally? With the ugly, blotchy green dye, there was no way to tell.
Who cut it like this? What had she gone through? Did she have a mother like the innkeeper? A father? Did anyone know her? Why not? Was it because of a crime? What crime?
She didn’t know. She knew nothing. Watching her hair fall, her vision blurred. Tears fell along with the hair.
“It’s okay. I’ll make it pretty, fresh and light. Don’t cry. It’s okay, it’s okay…”
The stars, once blazing in the height of summer, now cooled as the season shifted. The last autumn sun bent low, shining over the green crown of her head.
The small girl wrapped in newspaper cried silently as her long hair was cut to her shoulders. She cried without knowing what she had lost.
As the trees put on and shed their glorious golden robes, the lone weeping girl and the man who had taken away her home were watched.
Having eaten and rested enough, it was time to move. With her hair tidied, Sol lifted Bellona onto the horse. The green hair now slid smoothly without catching, brushing over her swollen cheeks and eyes.
“Is the place we’re going far?”
“Eat.”
“How far?”
“A lot.”
“Where?”
Instead of answering, he urged the horse faster. Bellona leaned back, clutching Sol.
“Relax your waist and keep your mouth shut. Bite your tongue.”
The inspector was intimidating enough that anyone at the inn would have felt uneasy.
Her husband, Pull, had done many things and was tall and strong, but the inspector in front of her was even taller and broader.
From under the hood, his piercing eyes were fierce, and Bellona had to summon courage each time she spoke.
She had tried asking a question, only to be ignored. But once off the horse, she promised herself she’d ask again. Unlike Momona, who poured out information without prompting, he at least seemed honest.
The horse carried them along a vast wasteland bordered by black mountains. The wind was bitter, and Bellona gripped the horse, repeating what she knew as if memorizing it again.
‘My name is Bellona, my hair isn’t green, and I have only a mirror, a fountain pen, a comb, and a key with the number 219.’
‘I see the snowy peaks, the two dense forests like walls below them, and the farmland appearing slowly in the wasteland.’
The short hair no longer blocked her view. After a while, the horse moved through tall grasses, red and yellow mounds rising across the land.
Suddenly, Sol pressed down on the hair she had been holding with his gloved hand.
“Bow.”
The horse’s hooves kicked the ground faster. Despite the cold, the horse ran, sweating. What was happening? Bellona wanted to look back, but she couldn’t. The wind and narrowing view obscured everything.
Seconds later, the ground they were running on suddenly rose, blocking them. A short mound, enough to obstruct their path.
“Hiiiii!”
The horse a few steps behind reared, turning sharply as directed. Bellona, nearly falling, was held by Solishar’s arm. The horse drew a graceful semicircle and returned the way they had come. Only then could she see the pursuers: three mounted people.
Two men in dark clothing and a woman in a robe. The woman’s face was pale and panting. The middle man, appearing to be the leader, pointed a sword at Solishar.
“A felon leaving the magistrate’s jurisdiction is—huuh!—illegal! I come under orders from the Northern Sarotop Magistrate! Submit to arrest—huuh!—immediately!”
He tried to sound loud, but having run all the way, he panted heavily, and it didn’t sound too scary.
But for Bellona, who thought Sol was just doing his duty as an inspector, it was terrifying.
She looked at Solishar in shock.
Leaving illegally? That’s illegal?
“What should we do? They came to catch you.”
But Sol, looking down at Bellona, spoke playfully.
“I’m Inspector Sol.”
Then why is it illegal?
“Ah, that.”
The afternoon sun blazed behind him like a halo.
“It’s a lie.”
Her ears rang, but the weightless, casual tone hit clearly.
Bellona froze.
“I am Herbert, the sheriff appointed by the Ki-en Sarotop Magistrate!”
The sheriff shouted toward the hooded rider whose face was completely hidden. Breathing hard and bracing his bulging stomach, he spoke proudly. This time he spoke continuously.
“Refuse arrest and you will be punished immediately!”
Bellona was the only one terrified by his panting, earnest words. Her face turned pale.
“I didn’t think the ones looking for you would arrive faster than the ones looking for me.”
Solishar honestly admired it. More competent than a day-old northern magistrate than the ones trying to capture the prince.
“Your friend really likes you, Bell.”
