Red Riding Hood - Chapter 38
Quiel blinked as he gazed impassively at the village.
Among the gray tombstones, a red butterfly flitted and fluttered.
To take a closer look, Quiel leaned out the window.
What he discovered wasn’t a red butterfly—it was a small girl wearing a red hood. Behind her trailed Vinya, the brothel keeper, and Six, the vacant-eyed harlot.
Resting his chin on his hand, Quiel observed the peculiar scene below.
The girl in the red hood, as if something delighted her immensely, flitted through the graveyard like a butterfly.
As she drew closer to the temple, Quiel could see her more clearly.
She ran eagerly toward a white dandelion by the roadside, blew its seeds into the air, and then stood at the edge of a puddle, peering into it despite the dry ground nearby.
Then she jumped straight into the puddle.
“….!”
For a moment, Quiel thought the little girl would nimbly leap over the puddle. But no.
With tiny, confident steps, she stomped boldly through the puddle, her cheap linen skirt instantly becoming soaked with muddy water.
Vinya, like a screeching witch, let out a sharp cry and raised her hand. Six quickly shielded the child. Hiding behind Six’s frail body, the girl stuck her pink tongue out at the old hag.
Quiel, without realizing it, burst into laughter.
“Ha ha ha!”
The next moment, he clamped his hand over his mouth in surprise.
He had laughed aloud.
This was a first!
But he soon lowered his hand.
It wasn’t as if he had intentionally refrained from laughing all this time—there simply had never been anything to laugh about.
And if someone could make him laugh, why should he suppress the laughter?
***
It was perhaps inevitable that Quiel became captivated by the girl.
He calmly gathered fragmented rumors to learn more about her.
Her name was Cinq. Vinya, worried that Six’s future alone looked bleak, had poured all her savings into purchasing the child.
Quiel ignored the other rumors. He didn’t want to know what sordid fantasies the beasts of Mindie harbored about that lovely child.
Instead, he simply kept watching her.
Through autumn and winter, the girl grew, as evidenced by her skirt hem inching higher and higher.
That miserly Vinya left her skirt hem above her ankles, even during the frigid season.
Though the sight of her tattered skirt and sagging socks was pitiable, the pearly sheen of her exposed skin remained unblemished.
In spring, bees buzzed around her red hood. She shook her head furiously to drive them away, but the bees were as persistent as his gaze, which constantly followed her.
Eventually, she burst into tears, pulling off her red hood.
When her radiant golden hair cascaded down like a waterfall, Quiel felt as if she were plunging straight into his heart, just as she had once leaped into a puddle.
But summer stood between them.
In summer, Quiel couldn’t even approach the window. He would lift the heavy curtain slightly and watch as Cinq and Six, hand in hand, roamed the fields.
In the faded red hood, Six sat beside the ever-vibrant red butterfly, picking wildflowers to weave crowns while singing.
Poor Six. Vinya, fearing her harlots might escape, kept them constantly drugged.
Despite her miserable life, Cinq must have been her salvation.
It was clear, even from afar, how much Six loved her.
When Cinq placed a flower crown on her head with those small hands, Six would smile radiantly, like a daisy, and embrace her tightly, as if to shield her from the horrors of the world.
Through autumn, the girl ran through the pampas fields, her arms spread like wings, basking in the golden sunlight.
With every step she took, the silvery tufts of pampas grass floated skyward, escaping earthly bounds to disappear into eternity.
Cinq.
Are you the symbol of freedom?
As the wind inevitably greets those standing on the hill, he couldn’t help but yearn for her.
Quiel stretched his hands toward her. Though a vast distance lay between them, he believed it would gradually narrow.
Someday, he hoped to walk beneath the sunlight hand in hand with her.
