Even If Your Regret Tries to Hold Me Back - Chapter 24

Thirteen years until he met Helena Owen again.

For Ian, those thirteen years were not merely waiting. Time spent imagining Helena was interspersed throughout.

As Heidi had said, it wasn’t as if he thought of her constantly like some heartbreaking, unforgettable first love.

Just once when enduring hunger while gazing at the night sky, once when collapsing from exhaustion during training, once when thrusting his sword into the necks of princes one by one, once when finally ascending to the throne.

He thought of her occasionally like that.

How tall have you grown by now? Have you grown out your short hair? Have you moved away from home to the place you wanted, or are you still there? Will you recognize me at first sight when you see me again?

He thought about their reunion scenes a bit more often.

Sometimes a green meadow formed the backdrop, sometimes a night sky with the Milky Way pouring down. Of course, the seaside, as she had promised, occupied the largest portion.

But he never even imagined it would be in the middle of the ocean.

“…Helena. What am I to do with you?”

Ian carefully peeled away the hair stuck to her face from tears. If not for the breathing that could only be heard by listening very carefully, she would have seemed like a dead person.

“I didn’t come to see you like this.”

At first, he had only wanted to meet her.

To see if she had endured well through time as he had. Whether she was living the life she wanted. He had planned to confirm this, repay what he had received in kind, and then leave with relief.

That’s what he had resolved. He had sworn to himself countless times. He certainly had.

“You’re too precious for me to bear leaving. I can’t just abandon you.”

He simply wanted her to live.

He wished for this pitifully wretched woman to somehow survive. From the moment he first saw her, that was his only thought.

Her lifeless face, completely empty eyes, consistently helpless demeanor.

She wasn’t human. She was just a doll that was alive because breath still clung to her.

So he had prepared to be hated and drawn out her anger. Even rage was good. He was satisfied that he could bring even an angry expression to that face that seemed to have lost everything.

“What am I to do with you, so utterly broken?”

Ian quietly stroked Helena’s hair spread across the sheets with his fingers. His touch was extremely careful, as if she might shatter if he carelessly brushed against her.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch anywhere else, only stroking her red hair. The face that had fallen asleep from exhaustion after crying was simply painful to look at.

He lay down beside Helena, propping his head on his arm. Her delicate features looked even paler in the dawn’s twilight.

“Even when you sleep, you raise your thorns.”

He felt it every moment. She had raised them tightly to keep everyone away.

But it wasn’t to protect herself—it was too obvious that she was telling others to abandon her rather than get pricked too. So.

“That’s why I want to hold you. I want to hold you, thorny as you are. I want to pull you into my arms so tightly that you burst under the pressure.”

It wasn’t that he wanted to love her. This emotion was too wretched to be called love.

He felt randomly pitiful and wretched for her, wanting to comfort her. He wanted to comfort her without reason until she could laugh without thinking.

“I don’t care if it’s my selfishness. I want to see you smile someday.”

That night, Ian repeatedly pulled her slender wrist to check her pulse, placed his finger under her nose to confirm her breathing, and felt the temperature of her forehead.

As if desperately trying to feel that Helena was alive.

****

Dawn passed both slowly and quickly.

No matter how stormy the night, morning came.

As soon as Helena opened her eyes, Ian brought hot soup and lukewarm water.

While the soup cooled, he wiped the face of Helena, who sat there dazedly. With a warm wet cloth, he carefully wiped her eyes, nose, and mouth one by one, as if tending to a small child.

He paid special attention to wiping away the tear stains that had dried overnight. That small red head, for once, meekly accepted his touch, though he wondered what she could be thinking.

The problem was feeding her.

Helena’s hands shook terribly. They trembled so much that she dropped the spoon every few seconds.

Every time the clanging sound rang out, she flinched but stubbornly continued to grip it.

Thin liquid dripped onto the table. Unable to watch any longer, Ian stepped forward to feed her directly, but she firmly refused.

Eventually, Ian sighed in surrender and picked up a string. When he tied the spoon to her hand, Helena slowly ate the soup.

Ian sat in front of her, occasionally wiping away what got on her mouth with his finger. Fortunately, even this wasn’t rejected.

Had she managed perhaps five spoonfuls? Finally, Helena opened her dry lips.

“I was a fish living in a fishbowl.”

Whether from last night’s sobbing or because of the story she was about to tell, Helena’s voice was completely hoarse.

Without clearing her rough throat, she continued speaking slowly.

“There was another fish I liked living with me. But I was the only one who liked them, and I was so lonely that I left the fishbowl. I thought if I stopped liking them, I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. I thought a new world would unfold outside the fishbowl.”

Her tone was monotonous, as if reciting the manual for some object. Not even a speck of emotion was mixed in, and if not for the breathing between pauses, it wouldn’t have felt like a person speaking.

She poured out words in an endlessly dry voice.

“But I was still a small fish and still alone. I loved and loved and loved again, but no one was by my side. It was just me, as it had been from the beginning.”

As if she had to pour it out, however wretchedly, to be able to breathe, she spoke without pause.

“It was better when at least the fish I liked was beside me. I hoped that person would regret it, but look at me now.”

At that moment, Helena stopped breathing. For an instant, it seemed as if all time in the world had stopped with her.

In the infinitely suspended space-time, she slowly raised her head.

“In the end, I was the only one who would suffocate and die.”

There was no focus in her empty eyes. They were only thoroughly hollow.

Ian felt severe pain in his chest again. It was pain he had felt occasionally since first seeing her at the seaside. It felt like bile backing up.

Struggling to swallow the pain, he cleared away the soup bowl. Helena fell silent again.

Ian was the same. Silence had somehow become another form of conversation between them.

As Ian cleared the bowl, he brought out a small wooden box from his coat pocket. It was ointment he had obtained by wandering the streets early in the morning.

He approached Helena, who was still sitting there dazedly. Even when the bed sank deeply from the recoil, she didn’t turn to look.

Ian sighed softly and opened the ointment box. When he gathered Helena’s hair and swept it over to the opposite shoulder, skin that was scratched mercilessly and flushed red was revealed.

He silently rubbed ointment on it. Helena was motionless like someone whose senses had been severed. She only stared into space until he finished applying all the ointment.

“…It’s done.”

When Ian finally closed the ointment lid, she took a sip of water and then curled up and lay down on the bed. Then she fell asleep again as if fleeing.

Morning passed like that. Ordinarily.

****

‘Still the same.’

The first place Eugene went to find her was the Owen family estate.

Having left the Grand Duke’s residence penniless, the places she could go were limited. Even if she ran away, she would surely be taking refuge with her family at most.

However, contrary to his quite firm expectations, Eugene couldn’t meet Helena even after arriving at the Owen house.

“It’s already been over a month….Your rebellion is too severe, Helena.”

Eugene soothed his strangely uncomfortable feelings and pulled out a heavy pouch, dropping it onto the table with a thud.

“Please contact me when Helena comes.”

The Owen couple opened the pouch without any pretense of dignity. A considerable amount of gold coins gleamed brilliantly.

Merchant-like smiles spread foolishly across their faces.

“Of course. We’ll send a messenger as soon as we find her.”

“That Hel— I mean, we’ll make sure the Grand Duchess can never run away again. Don’t worry.”

The Owen couple absolutely didn’t breathe a word about the fact that Helena had already come and gone.

A man looking for Helena and Helena’s mysterious disappearance at a suspiciously similar time. That clever girl had surely been having an affair behind the Grand Duke’s back.

So to continue receiving money, concealment was the best policy. Evergale’s support was always essential for paying gambling debts.

Moreover, on the day that man had visited, the house that had gone to auction was sold and they were about to be evicted. They needed to hold onto their source of money somehow.

Eugene was not unaware of their base intentions either.

‘Greedy people who don’t know their place.’

He sneered inwardly as he stood up from his seat.

But something felt incomplete. He stopped mid-way from leaving and turned around.

“Are you all the people living in this house?”

Eugene swept the quiet interior of the house once. At the suddenly thrown glance, Viscount Owen hurriedly bowed his head.

“If you’re looking for servants or my son—”

“No. There was a small boy, wasn’t there? Helena’s brother.”

The child who always sat in a corner with a powerless face, waiting for his sister.

The only being Helena loved in this corner of a house.

“His name was….Basil?”

When Eugene’s expression became strange, Viscount Owen continued in a tone suggesting it wasn’t worth worrying about.

“Ah, that boy. Quite pitifully, he died of pneumonia. No matter how many medicines we tried, there was nothing we could do. His body was so weak…”

…Dead?

Eugene couldn’t utter a single word for a moment. It felt like ice-cold water was pouring over his entire body.

He moistened his dry lips and opened his mouth with difficulty.

“…When, exactly when did he close his eyes?”

“The year before last… Is there some problem…?”

A shock greater than monetary loss awakened all his bodily senses again. Eugene struggled to maintain a calm expression as he asked again.

“Was the funeral held properly?”

“Well… Matilda and I wanted to hold the funeral service here, but it ended up being held in the old hometown village.”

“The old hometown village… you mean Praeterita?”

“Yes. The Grand Duchess insisted that Basil must be buried there, so we couldn’t dissuade her. It absolutely wasn’t our intention.”

Viscount Owen repeatedly emphasized that it had definitely not been his intention.

And for good reason—Praeterita was a poor village quite, rather distant from a Grand Duchess’s dignity.

“…I was fooled again. Again, you’re someone I don’t know.”

Unusually, Eugene couldn’t hide his displeasure. His mouth felt as gritty as if he had swallowed sand. The wife he had lived with for several years felt far too distant.