<CHAPTER 03>
Here is the full translation of your passage, keeping tone and flow natural while staying faithful to the original:
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The dim eyes visible beneath the hood scanned her up and down.
“You didn’t wash—you fell into the water.”
His voice clearly carried amusement. A faint light reflected in those dark eyes as he looked down at her, making them brighter. Only then could she clearly see their color.
Purple.
It was incomparably more beautiful and rare than her own hair, which looked like chewed-up grass spat out by a cow.
“Finish washing.”
He pulled the doorknob back.
“I’ll have them bring more clothes and hot water.”
He glanced once at the plain clothes the prisoner was wearing, then simply shut the door and left. Once soaked, the clothes felt heavier and stiffer. She absentmindedly grabbed the rough fabric, then let it go.
She still didn’t know what the problem was.
“Miss, I’ve brought hot water.”
But it wasn’t like there was only one thing she didn’t know. So what?
With a bright face, she opened the door for the innkeeper, who had brought a large amount of steaming hot water.
The woman, who looked kind-hearted, was smiling widely for some reason, even as her skirt got soaked. Together with a maid, she carried the heavy buckets several times. By the time the bath was filled to the brim, she even brought spare clothes.
Thanks to that, her body, which had been slowly cooling down, could once again sink into hot water.
“Yap!”
The rippling water still didn’t float.
But she wasn’t disappointed. For something mysterious to happen again just a day after her memories had been sealed!
Maybe she was an incredible mage.
No—she definitely was.
“Wow…”
Staring at her hands, now wrinkled from soaking too long, she kept marveling.
“Hey.”
At the call, the woman raised her head.
The crown prince swallowed a sigh.
Stuffing food into her mouth without pause, her cheeks were already bulging, and she even had a piece of brown bread clenched between her lips. With such a small mouth, could all that even fit?
After calling her, he just stared, and she tilted her head in confusion—yet kept chewing diligently. Both her hands tightly gripped a fork with sausage and a knife. Even then, she widened her eyes as if to show she was listening.
Her wavy green hair, like trailing seaweed, made the whole sight even more absurd.
It wasn’t a situation to laugh, but it was strangely amusing.
“You eat well.”
The woman chewed her bread and looked at him curiously.
He had removed his hood and was now looking at her with his face fully revealed. His expression and gaze were… a bit strange.
“Is it good?”
She had to answer somehow.
“Mmm,” she hummed vaguely and nodded eagerly. Even the large lump of food in her cheek bobbed along. Solishar let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Goes down well, huh?”
She paused briefly and looked at him. He had ordered so much food for her, so why was he asking that now?
Not understanding, she nodded again. It went down smoothly.
“Ah. I see.”
While someone had completely lost his appetite, the cause of it was eating very well.
At the absurdity of it, he lowered his hand beneath the table and brushed over his abdomen—the place she had stabbed him last night. It had been a deep wound, yet now there wasn’t even a scar.
Just like the woman in front of him, who had forgotten everything and was absurdly cheerful and unfazed.
There were countless things he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t.
Even earlier, when she had been drenched in the bathroom and looked at him, she must not have had a single thought. The only one who had frozen at the sight of her pale face and clear eyes—just from being soaked in water—was him.
The woman, who had hesitated, glanced at him nervously before slowly moving her jaw again. Her eyes flickered between the food and him.
“Eat a lot.”
At least she was eating well—that was something. With a hollow gesture, Solishar waved his hand and turned his head away.
Everything had ended as of yesterday. It was no longer his concern.
Munch, munch—the bread bounced energetically before his eyes.
It was incredibly irritating.
Unable to endure it any longer, Solishar reached out and grabbed the wildly moving bread. At the same time, the woman was pulled forward with it.
“Put something down.”
No!
With the bread clenched tightly in her mouth, she tightened her grip on everything in her hands.
“I’m not going to take it. Just eat one thing at a time. Eat slowly. Put down what you’re holding. Now.”
After a mix of scolding and coaxing, he finally managed to pull the bread away.
“Don’t just swallow it down. Chew twenty times.”
At that, she chewed in clear dissatisfaction—it was quite a sight. Even so, her eyes kept following the bread he had taken. When he waved it around, her gaze followed intently, until she frowned slightly as if dizzy, looking at him like he was strange.
He set the bread back on the plate.
“Finish what’s in your mouth, eat what’s on your fork, then have it.”
Who told them to seal her memories? Instead of properly interrogating her after lawful arrest, he was now teaching her how to eat slowly.
Surely she at least knew how to count to twenty.
Leaning back in his hard chair, he watched her chew twenty times, swallow, and then puff out her cheeks in displeasure.
Seeing her sulk as if he had taken her food—it was a first.
“Drink.”
He handed her a glass of water. She quickly took it, drank, and let out a relieved breath—like someone who had been starving.
“Did the mages starve you?”
Resting his chin on his hand, he watched.
She nodded again, then took a big bite of sausage. As the juices burst out and the rich flavor spread, she silently marveled.
The bread was good—but this was even better!
“I said chew twenty times.”
She froze mid-bite and looked at him.
There was something oddly oppressive about him. No one could ever ignore him. Even a magistrate would probably tread carefully around him. His gaze was that sharp and heavy.
His tall frame and broad build stood out even more now.
Lowering her eyes, she obediently began chewing.
Chewing twenty times took longer than expected. Still, she diligently counted. But she felt his heavy gaze on her.
Glancing sideways, she saw him staring right at her.
She was doing exactly what he said—so why was he staring again? She’d already reached twenty. Was she not allowed to eat more?
Her eyes anxiously flickered between him and the food.
Then suddenly, he sighed.
“…Aren’t you curious? Or scared of anything?”
The words slipped out before he realized it. Solishar rubbed his lips.
He didn’t want to be involved anymore. But the emotions that had shattered still hadn’t settled. They floated messily, colliding and sparking again and again.
Of course they did.
It had only happened yesterday.
But the woman, who had forgotten everything from yesterday, tilted her head.
“…Name.”
A small voice finally came out.
Only then did Solishar realize—it was the first time she had spoken today.
“Name?”
“I want to change my name.”
Her voice was small but clear. As he froze, she pulled the soup bowl close.
“Why?”
Was it because it was a prisoner’s name?
But she lifted her head slightly and answered firmly.
“I don’t like it. I’m going to make a new one.”
Her answers were getting more and more absurd.
“Then what’s your new name?”
“I don’t know. I only know two names, so I haven’t decided yet. But I’ll pick a pretty one.”
Then she bit into the sausage he had cut for her and chewed diligently again. Her cheeks puffed up adorably as she ate.
She really did eat in a way that made others feel hungry just watching.
Having lost his appetite, Solishar hadn’t even touched his fork. Only now did he cut into his portion.
“Your original name is pretty too.”
She looked at him like he was completely strange.
Only then did she feel a bit embarrassed, tearing bread and dipping it into the soup as she asked:
“Is ‘Ugly’ a pretty name?”
But maybe people just had different tastes!
“I suppose some might think so.”
She hurriedly added, then opened her mouth wide to eat the soaked bread.
“Why is your name ‘Ugly’?”
Her eyes rolled nervously. He was staring seriously now.
His silver hair gleamed beautifully in the flickering candlelight.
She stiffened slightly and answered in a very small voice:
“Anke means ‘ugly.’ I know that much.”
“Anke?”
His sharp brows and piercing gaze became even more pronounced as he frowned.
Even in the dim light, his eyes shone like those of a beast.
“…Your name is Bellona.”
