WFMW 49

Chapter 49

Don’t Cut That Hair

At the sound of Sidor’s voice, it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head — I instantly came to my senses.

I pushed against Grisha’s chest, which had come far too close, and hurriedly replied,

“I was making a magic potion. Grisha was a big help.”

Grisha glanced silently at Sidor, then sighed.

He bent his head — and kissed the ends of my hair that he’d been holding the entire time.

I froze, eyes wide, staring up at him.

Why?

That kind of gesture was one of deep affection — something you only did with someone very close. Why would he do that to me, now?

But I didn’t get a chance to ask. Sidor stepped between us.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Doesn’t seem like your business. The person involved isn’t complaining.”

Not exactly true — I just hadn’t had the chance to speak.

I wanted to correct that, but Sidor shielded me behind his back and wouldn’t let me move, leaving me once again without an opening to explain.

Grisha smiled faintly.

“Looks like the intruder’s here. I’ll get going, Nelly. Tell me your answer next time.”

“Get lost.”

Sidor practically growled as he drove Grisha out.

Peeking out from behind Sidor’s broad back, all I could see was the graceful arc of Grisha’s long hair as he turned away.

I hadn’t said goodbye, yet somewhere deep down, I felt a strange sense of relief.

Because I had never seen Grisha like that before.

That was the first time he ever seemed frightening.

His face devoid of a smile, his eyes fixed on me with unwavering intensity until he got the answer he wanted — it made me uneasy.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the spot where his lips had touched my hair.

Unconsciously, my fingers reached up to that strand.

After Grisha left completely, Sidor strode into the kitchen, frowning.

“What did he mean by ‘answer’?”

Should I be honest? I tilted my head, then shook it.

If you fumbled over words, things only got worse — especially for someone like me, who wasn’t good with talking in the first place.

So I shrugged.

“He said, if I want to set you free, I should divorce you.”

Sidor’s face instantly twisted. He growled, like an angry lion.

“What? Who does he think he is — talking about my freedom and our divorce? And why’s he asking you that?”

“I don’t know what he meant either.”

“So? You told him no, right? Wait — no, you didn’t answer, did you? That’s why he said crap like that.”

Sidor’s eyes were a pale, silvery color — brighter than Grisha’s.

At their edges shimmered a misty blue hue, like the dawn sky — mysterious, serene.

His eyes really are like a dragon’s.

Not just a descendant — but a real dragon soaring through the heavens.

Ah, so that’s why his order’s called the Azure Dragon Knights.

I’d learned one more thing about Sidor.

I found myself gazing into his eyes, spellbound.

And for a fleeting moment, it felt as though my body were rising — as if I’d turned into a ghost.

The line between reality and imagination blurred.

I felt like I had become a dragon myself.

From up high, people and the world must look so small — like ants.

The blue of the sky and sea would blur into one vast, endless horizon.

Even the flow of time that ruled all living things might feel meaningless to such a being.

That magnificent creature, soaring through the heavens, turned to face me — or rather, the hollow space in my heart.

{You’ve transcended the realm of humans.}

A voice that couldn’t possibly exist echoed through my mind.

{I’ve been waiting for someone like you.}

The vision was otherworldly — and yet, I felt no fear, no awe. Only calm acceptance.

In those silvery-gray eyes, the reflection of myself seemed utterly at peace.

And then—

“Nelly.”

Sidor bent down so our eyes met, frustration coloring his voice.

“Say it clearly. You’re not divorcing me.”

Those same dragon-like eyes reflected me like a mirror.

And from the lips of that majestic being came not divine words or cosmic secrets — but the most trivial of human concerns.

That ridiculous contrast finally snapped me out of my trance.

I realized the being before me wasn’t a dragon — it was Sidor.

Ah… was I daydreaming just now?

It was the first time I’d ever drifted off mid-conversation, and the realization embarrassed me.

I shook my head quickly. Sidor frowned.

“Nelly.”

He said my name again, impatiently — a rare show of unease for him.

Why was he so agitated?

The sight of such a big, tough man looking so flustered made me giggle.

“I already said that — I’m not divorcing you.”

“…You did?”

His lips curved awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to smiling. I blinked.

“Why are you smiling?”

He pouted a little.

“Wh-who’s smiling? So what did he want you to answer?”

“He said that if not divorcing you means I’m keeping you trapped, then divorcing you would actually set you free. He told me to think about it.”

“What kind of nonsense— Why would—”

His muttering stopped abruptly.

His face hardened, darker than before, as if he’d realized what Grisha had meant.

Then he mumbled something under his breath — sharp syllables that sounded like curses.

Wow. They really don’t get along.

That was about all I could guess.

After venting for a while, Sidor grabbed the hand I’d been using to play with my hair and pulled me toward him.

My hair rustled softly as it came undone.

He spoke firmly:

“Forget everything Grisha said. It’s all useless.”

“Grisha doesn’t say useless things.”

“Yes, he does.”

“How would you know? You haven’t seen him in ages.”

“I just do. I know him better than you.”

That smug tone, brushing off my connection with Grisha, pricked at my pride.

I puffed my cheeks like a goldfish.

“Grisha and I are really close, you know!”

“Maybe were. That was years ago. Don’t you feel like he’s a stranger now?”

“He…”

At that moment, an image flashed in my mind — those deep blue eyes, staring at me without blinking.

“…No.”

My reply came a beat too late.

Sidor’s gaze sharpened as if he knew exactly why. Then he tugged my hand again.

“Anyway, I bought you new clothes.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“But before you change, there’s something we need to do.”

“Huh?”

I hadn’t even planned to change clothes.

Then — smack.

Sidor pressed a light kiss on my fingertips.

Following Grisha’s earlier kiss, the gesture froze me in shock.

What was this now? Was that some kind of Granite family greeting ritual?

While I stood dumbfounded, he chuckled softly and whispered—

“Don’t cut your hair.”

I hadn’t cut my hair once since entering the Academy.

Meaning — I hadn’t had a haircut since I was seven years old.

They said the split ends were from never trimming it. That’s why it’s dry and frizzy too.

But cutting it myself felt strange, and it wasn’t that inconvenient to keep it long, so I just let it grow.

It wasn’t because I was saving it for today — or because I was scared of scissors.

Still, who’d have thought my husband would be the one to cut it?!

Well, “husband.” By contract or not, the title was accurate.

But he wasn’t a hairdresser — he was a Swordmaster.

I’d been the first woman to hand a Swordmaster a shovel and pickaxe…
and now I was handing him a pair of haircutting scissors.

Not exactly a title of honor.

Sitting in a chair, a wide cloth draped over my shoulders like a cape, my heart was pounding.

I sat straight-backed, forcing myself to stay calm.

“I’m not the kind who cares much about appearances, so even if you leave a huge bald spot…”

Snip.

“Oh, heavens.”

Before I could even finish, a lock of hair fell cleanly to the floor.

I’d expected him to be cautious, gentle — but the chunk that dropped was long.

Wait, did you even think this through before cutting?!

Would watching help or make it worse? I couldn’t decide, just flinched helplessly.

Then above my head came a soft, amused laugh — like the sound of bread crumbs scattering.

“Didn’t know you were the religious type.”

Of course I was nervous! Anyone would be, trusting their lifelong hair to an amateur barber!

His teasing irked me, but his remark itself piqued my interest. I shrugged.

“I believe something’s out there. Not that I’m devout, but the Academy has priests, you know.”

“Theology department, right.”

“Yes. And they really perform miracles sometimes, so denying their existence seems irrational.”

Snip.

“Ahh…”

Another thick strand fell the moment I got distracted.

Seeing my long, silky hair pooling on the floor made me groan aloud.

Sidor ran a comb through what was left, saying casually,

“Didn’t expect you to be so attached to your hair.”

“It’s not attachment — I just don’t trust your skills! Have you ever even cut hair before?”

“No.”

The man who probably didn’t even shave his own beard said proudly,

“But I’m good at slicing and cutting things. I guarantee I’m better at it than you.”

“How can you sound so confident?”

“Because it’s true.”

Well… he was a Swordmaster, after all.
He probably was good at cutting — just maybe not this.