“Bel…?”

“Bellona. For short, Bell.”

After repeating it several times, Solishar—who had been about to scoop up some soup—set his spoon down with a sharp clink.

“Who on earth gave you the name Yanke? Who was it?”

“A friend…”

At her quiet, obedient answer and innocent expression, his disbelief tipped into irritation.

“You call someone a friend after they give you a name like that?”

“…That’s what they claimed.”

She answered cautiously, trying to read his mood, and Solishar pressed his fingers to his temple, a headache forming.

“Tell me everything that person said to you.”

He had never intended to show this kind of kindness to the woman who had betrayed him.

Since the fortress descended into chaos the previous night, he had been exhausted both physically and mentally.

More than anything, she had stabbed him in the back, offered no explanation, and repeatedly called out another man’s name.

There should have been nothing left for him to say to her.

And yet—

Before he knew it, he was listening to her recount everything that had happened that morning as though she had never raised a blade against him.

“That ‘friend’ helped you avoid execution?”

“…They said I tried to harm someone important. A crown prince… or something like that.”

Bellona, whose memories had been completely sealed off, hesitated as she spoke.

Then, just like him, she put down her spoon.

The girl who had been ravenous at the sight of food had suddenly lost her appetite.

“Eat while you talk.”

“They said I did it.”

“Right. And I said—eat while you talk.”

But she still didn’t move her hands.

So Solishar picked up his spoon again, this time deliberately.

He knew that if he wanted her to eat, he would have to eat too.

“Did that important person… die?”

“No.”

“Were they… badly hurt?”

Only now, after everything that had happened today, did the weight of it truly sink in.

Bellona, who disliked everything about herself except the name given to her by the man beside her, lowered her head.

‘Why would I do something so terrible?’

No matter how hard she tried to think, there was nothing.

Her memories were gone.

“They’re fine.”

‘How does he know that so confidently?’

He spoke about it so casually and carelessly that it seemed as if it had nothing to do with him.

Was it because he was a guard?

Did he know everything?

Seeing the doubt in her eyes, Solishar pushed the steaming bowl of soup closer to her and replied bluntly.

“They’re tough.”

“But if it was enough to warrant execution, then they must have been seriously—”

“With those arms? As if.”

Bellona looked down at the arm he pointed to.

What was wrong with it?

It was a little scratched, sure—but it seemed perfectly sturdy to her.

“The magistrate lied. It was never serious enough to warrant execution.”

He spoke without hesitation.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t even a lie.

From the outset, Solishar had only ever intended to report Bellona for stabbing him clumsily and then refusing to speak, and to uncover her accomplice through proper legal channels.

Negotiating a lighter sentence in exchange for information wasn’t uncommon.

Even in a case as serious as the attempted assassination of the Crown Prince, where the expected punishment was death, if the victim chose to bargain with the offender, no one had the authority to interfere.

Solishar let out a sharp, impatient laugh.

Not only was it outrageous that they had overturned the Crown Prince’s decision, but to go further and seal her memories and erase the records at will was beyond the pale.

The sheer arrogance was unbearable.

And every word that came from the girl he had brought back only made matters worse.

Deceived completely by the magistrate’s careless lies, she had fallen into quiet despair. Even now, she had no appetite.

This irritated him even more.

So Solishar carelessly forced the utensils into her scabbed-over hand.

“That man’s walking around just fine, so eat.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him. Eat.”

Just moments ago, he had been scolding her for eating too easily—and now, it felt like he wouldn’t let her off unless she ate.

‘What does he even want?’

He was a strange man.

Bellona had no choice but to scoop up a spoonful of soup and eat it.

Despite feeling upset, it still tasted good.

The guard’s expression seemed to soften slightly.

“What other nonsense did that magistrate say?”

He was bothered by the fact that she was only eating soup.

Solishar pushed a plate of sausages towards her — the same ones she had eaten so eagerly earlier.

He had paid extra for them. She had to finish them.

“He said… I shouldn’t try to remember the past…”

Solishar let out a scoff.

The very thing he needed most right now was her past.

“And that a guard would come and make me work…”

“Do you even know how to work?”

“I don’t. But if I’m told to, I’ll do my best.”

For some reason, it felt like he was teasing her.

So Bellona answered with more conviction.

“Just focus on eating.”

But the man only gestured at the food again, as if he were still teasing.

“How am I supposed to talk and eat at the same time?”

“Figure it out. You were doing just fine earlier.”

Bellona stabbed a sausage with her fork.

“Anyway… that’s what he said. Anyone who approaches me claiming they know me is a liar. I shouldn’t trust them. He said he’d come find me later.”

She spoke slowly, chewing her sausage thoroughly, but the story was still absurd.

Solishar ran a hand down the back of his neck.

It was obvious.

They had intended to completely separate Bellona from him.

At the same time, they wanted to isolate her and make her look foolish.

They wanted her to believe that the magistrate was her only ally, so that they could draw everything out of her and keep her under control.

It was a fate worse than death.

The cruelty of it was calculated. Vicious.

“You know… Guard.”

Solishar, who had been silently thinking, replied,

“Sol.”

“…What?”

“Call me Sol.”

Her memories had been sealed away.

Her records had been erased.

Even her name and appearance had been altered to mock her.

And yet, despite knowing nothing, the woman answered immediately.

“…Okay.”

Her eyes remained fixed on him.

Clear. Transparent. Like water.

Something twisted painfully inside him.

‘The guard’s name was Sol. The swindler who insisted he was her friend was a magistrate named Momona Kien. The overly kind innkeeper was Anne, her husband was Paul, and the daughter she had mistaken for a maid was Nancy. And the criminal’s name… was Bellona.’

Of all the names she had learnt recently, she liked Bellona the best.

To her, it simply sounded beautiful.

It was far better than the strange name Yanke.

So she decided not to choose a new name after all.

Instead, she stepped out into the inn’s courtyard and began going through the few belongings that Momona had given her.

Most of them were simple, unremarkable items — harmless enough to be returned to someone even if they had been accused of a crime.

As she sorted through them, she found a smooth, well-worn hairbrush with a scratched surface from years of use.

There was also a small, round object made of the same material.

‘What is this?’

‘A mirror.’

The moment she opened it, her reflection in the mirror revealed her green hair so clearly that she snapped it shut immediately.

Next, she pulled out a fountain pen.

Engraved clearly and boldly on the pen was the character “ㅎ”—a mark that had nothing to do with either “Bellona” or “Yanke.”

“What does this mean?”

She had no idea.

And although she had a pen, there was no notebook or paper to go with it.

She searched her bag again, but the only other thing she found—tucked deep inside—was a single key.

“How about this?”

It looked like an ordinary key.

A small number was engraved on it. It wasn’t large, nor was it decorated in any unusual way.

“2… 19.”

With her memories gone, neither the key nor the number meant anything.

Resting in her palm, the key was slightly worn smooth.

That was all.

‘Was I someone who liked brushing my hair?’

She ran the brush through her hair once, but it snagged immediately on the tangled mess.

It wouldn’t glide through at all.

So she simply stuck the brush into her hair and began fiddling with the key instead.

‘What could this be?’

‘If I pass through a door this key opens… would I find someone who knows me?’

“Where did you get that?”

Sol, who had been checking something nearby, had approached without her noticing.

Except when they were eating alone, he always wore a mask and hood.

Bellona quickly clenched the key in her hand, hiding it.

“It was mine.”

Her lips pushed out in a slight pout as she emphasized that it was something that belonged to her—one of the few things she had.

“Oh. They gave that back to you?”

His tone sounded faintly surprised.

As if he hadn’t expected it.

She loosened her grip slightly and showed him the key.

“Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a key.”

“I mean—what kind of key is it?”

“How would I know that?”

Sol shrugged casually.

‘Then why did you say it like you knew?’

He really was strange.

Bellona pursed her lips where he couldn’t see and clutched the key tightly again.

“Why are you wearing that? Is it decoration?”

Though she wished he would just leave, he stepped closer instead, tapping at the brush she had forgotten was still stuck in her hair.

She quickly stepped back, avoiding his hand, and grabbed the brush.

“It’s a brush.”

“A brush?”

“Then why are you just sticking it in your hair instead of using it?”

Sol asked with a faint smile.

“My hair’s too tangled—it won’t go through.”

“Ah.”

He was strange and kept teasing her.

Frowning deeply, Bellona tried once more to brush her hair.

But no matter how hard she tried, the tangled strands wouldn’t budge.