“If you feel awkward, why not cover your hair with a hat or headscarf?”

“Hmm…”

“I hear red is trendy among the canaries these days. Good for attracting customers’ attention.”

Canaries were cabaret performers and one-night companions. In cabarets, except for lead actors and main dancers, most worked the streets. 

After Lloyd Whitaker’s preferences became known, red hair became fashionable among them.

The sight of women competitively dyeing their hair red was bizarre, and the cabarets disciplined their canaries, fearing they might lose customers. Still, the desire for red remained strong, so they eventually agreed that only canaries of a certain rank could dye their hair red.

“Really?”

Jacqueline’s expression darkened instantly.

“Why red of all colors… It’s the symbol of the deposed king.”

“The deposed king must have been disgustingly beautiful.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Red hair became a symbol of depravity because of the deposed king. Vulgar, incompetent, and inherently licentious, King Marius’s reign was madness and the flashpoint for abolishing the monarchy. 

Even nobles fighting against revolutionaries strongly insisted that King Marius had to be removed, considering him the worst of the worst rulers.

People who vividly remembered those times shuddered and removed everything symbolizing the king and royal family. Even now, in Telia Palace, which served as the Prime Minister’s office and residence, only King Marius’s portrait remained unhung.

“Sometimes things become popular for inexplicable reasons.”

Like how King Marius’s portraits were trading popularly among collectors.

Melinda vaguely recalled the back view of the deposed king being dragged to the execution grounds. His hair was a sinister blood-red color. It made one wonder if a person could truly exude such sensuality.

“Perhaps a famous actor turned out to have red hair like mine?”

“Perhaps. Anyway, be careful of anyone in uniform.”

“Even the police?”

“I don’t trust laws or public authority.”

“So Melinda only trusts money.”

“Money doesn’t lie. It just reveals what kind of person you are.”

Gabriella had nearly been cast out for carrying a commoner’s seed. Marriage talks with a high-status family fell through because of that incident.

Pushed by her incompetent parents, Gabriella became a maid in a duke’s household, ironically the very family she had nearly been engaged to. There she performed all sorts of menial tasks while supporting her incompetent parents and immature siblings.

Then one day, Gabriella was dressed up and dragged to the duke’s bedroom. That’s when she realized that a hen without reproductive capabilities was an excellent delicacy that could be eaten anytime without causing trouble.

Gabriella obediently became the duke’s concubine. She naively thought she should follow her parents’ wishes. It wasn’t naivety but stupidity, though at the time she hadn’t realized what was wrong.

Anyway, as the duke’s favored concubine, Gabriella tried to revive her ruined family. But her efforts alone were futile. 

Her father squandered large sums of money under the pretext of business, her mother put on airs beyond their means, and her siblings, while claiming to dislike their sister for being a concubine, still lived off her. To them, she wasn’t family but livestock.

Gabriella no longer wanted to cling to them hoping for their affection. But these parasites wouldn’t let go. They invoked legal blood ties and wouldn’t release their host. Law and public authority couldn’t sever family bonds.

So Gabriella decided to die, forever. Not literally, of course. She merely erased her records from the legitimate world and became a resident of the shadows. With a few coins spent on document forgery, she completely severed her family ties.

Gabriella had lived for others, but Melinda lived for herself. Money was her only salvation, and she ignored anything that wouldn’t bring profit. She found friends’ dedication and lovers’ sacrifices annoying. 

Melinda viewed humans as consumables. There were humans to use and humans to discard soon, and anyone not in these categories was vermin.

One day, a girl came to Melinda’s office, holding out a pocket full of fairy tales, asking for a room. With her keen eye, Melinda recognized from the dye stains on the girl’s nails that she was a factory worker. Having just left the orphanage and started working at the factory, she must have been about ten or twelve years old.

Melinda categorized the girl as vermin. She could have shown her suitable accommodations, but she didn’t want to do that for vermin. She disliked the girl’s shabby appearance and judged her gentle face and naive behavior as cunning attempts to evoke sympathy.

So she drove the girl away. But the girl came back every day, insisting on being shown a place. The girl probably had no other options besides Melinda. And Melinda knew this.

Later, the girl who had been coming regularly suddenly stopped appearing. Melinda was relieved that the girl who had been bothering her was gone.

Living her usual life, Melinda suddenly found it difficult to breathe and went to see a doctor. She thought she might have contracted an illness from her dissolute lifestyle. But the doctor’s diagnosis was a hereditary disease. 

Come to think of it, her father had always drunk herbal tea good for the heart. Ah, family ties couldn’t be severed after all. She had only thought they could.

Carrying this ticking time bomb, Melinda collapsed on the street one day. It was a heart attack. She needed to take the medicine the doctor had given her, but her consciousness was fading. 

Finally, she swallowed her pride and reached out for help. But no passerby helped her. Even the baker, known for his kindness, ignored her. Ah, perhaps it was because she had asked for a rent increase last month.

She had treated people like vermin, but in the end, she was the vermin. Squirming, dying. 

In that dying moment, she recalled the faces of a friend and a lover. They had formed a bond through loving the same person and being hurt by them. Melinda had secretly watched their wedding and slipped a check with a large sum into the bride’s bag. 

Even then, she couldn’t sincerely congratulate them and had put her pride first. If only she had lived a little more kindly.

Standing before hell’s gatekeeper, Melinda was grabbed by the girl she had treated like vermin. The girl opened Melinda’s mouth with fingers stained with dye and tilted a medicine bottle.

That day, Melinda met the only light in her life.

To Jacqueline’s question about whether she only trusted money, Melinda answered yes. People don’t change easily even after nearly dying. They just do fewer trashy things than before.

“I don’t only trust money.”

“Does Melinda have something else to trust?”

“Yes, certain people.”

“Wow! People? Who?”

Jacqueline asked with a grinning face.

“Could it be me?”

“No!”

“Come on, you should say it’s me. You’re being too serious, it makes me sad.”

Words different from her true feelings had escaped, and she couldn’t bring herself to say she was sorry for her clumsy expression. Whenever she saw Jacqueline smiling knowingly, she felt her own inadequacy. It was too embarrassing.

“I wanted to pay at least the Hennessys’ rent for this month today.”

When Jacqueline took out silver coins from her pocket, Melinda waved her hand.

“It’s fine. Just find a new job. You must be in dire straits if you’re selling your hair.”

Melinda suddenly felt choked up and put down her knitting. Before selling her hair, she could have at least mentioned something. 

If she had asked to delay the rent, Melinda would have allowed it, and if she had asked to borrow money, Melinda would have lent it. 

She had planned to wait until Jacqueline asked for help, but sharp words came out without her meaning to.

The flushed, embarrassed face looked pitiful.

‘What should I do with this child?’

Jacqueline spoke with difficulty.

“Um, could you wait just a few more days for the overdue rent on my room?”

“I can wait a few more days, but do you have a way to get your unpaid wages?”

At Melinda’s sharp question, Jacqueline closed her mouth and hung her head low. Melinda called to Jacqueline, who stood there looking dejected.

“Come here. Closer. Yes, that’s perfect.”

Melinda wrapped the half-knitted scarf around Jacqueline’s neck. She gathered the scarf back, thinking this length would be about right.

The wool yarn was emerald, similar to the color of Jacqueline’s eyes. Melinda’s knitting skills, practiced since childhood, were as good as a machine’s. Before being sold as a concubine, she had supported her incompetent parents and numerous siblings with this talent. What had been tiresome work then was now…

Knitting was enjoyable. Thinking about the person who would be happy to receive the gift made it not boring at all.

“You’ve grown taller.”

“I thought my skirt length seemed shorter. You’re knitting this for me, aren’t you? Right?”

“The weather’s getting quite chilly. Since you wouldn’t accept a new coat, I have no choice but to make you something like this.”

“Thank you, Melinda.”

Seeing her shy smile, she finally looked her twenty years. Looking at the young lady who resembled a rose about to bloom fully, Melinda suddenly realized how long their relationship had been.

“Time has passed so quickly.”

Jacqueline had grown significantly taller since last year. Her once skinny body, which had been so thin it was hard to tell whether she was a girl or a boy, now had curves, giving her a womanly appearance. 

Melinda mulled over Lloyd Whitaker’s name. She still thought he was dangerous.

If their relationship had been merely landlady and tenant, it would have ended long ago. But the small and large narratives built over years had become the thread connecting them. They couldn’t be family by blood, but she considered it something similar.

That’s why Melinda felt disappointed.