It took Ian 13 years to meet Helena Owen again.

For Ian, those 13 years were not just a simple wait. The times he imagined Helena were interlaced throughout.

As Heidi said, it wasn’t that he thought of her incessantly, like an unforgettable, passionate first love.

It was just once while enduring hunger looking at the night sky, once while collapsing exhausted during training, once while stabbing princes one after the other in the neck, and once when he finally ascended the throne.

He thought of her like that, occasionally.

How much would you have grown by now? Did you grow out your bob cut? Did you move out of the house to the place you wanted, or are you still there? Would you recognize me at first glance if we met again?

The scenes of their reunion he imagined more frequently.

Sometimes a green meadow was the backdrop, sometimes a night sky pouring with the Milky Way. Of course, the beach, as she had promised, occupied most of his thoughts.

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

“…Helena. What should I do with you?”

Ian gently detached the hair that was stuck to her face due to tears. Without the faint sound of her breathing, she looked like a dead person.

‘I didn’t come to see you like this.’

Initially, he just wanted to meet her.

To see if you have overcome the times like he did, if you’re living the life you wanted, to confirm and pay back what he received, then leave refreshed.

That’s what he had decided. He had vowed countless times. That’s what he was sure of.

‘But I can’t leave you because I’m too attached to you. I just can’t let you go.’

He just wanted her to live.

He hoped that this pitiful woman would somehow survive. From the moment he first saw her, that was his only thought.

Her lifeless face, empty eyes, and constantly listless attitude.

She wasn’t a person. She was just a living doll, breathing but lifeless.

So, he brought out anger, ready to be hated. Even anger was fine. He was content to bring any expression to her face, which seemed to have lost everything.

‘What should I do with you, so broken?’

Ian quietly stroked Helena’s hair spread over the sheets with his fingers, with extremely careful touches as if he might break her with a wrong move.

He only stroked her red hair, not daring to touch anywhere else. Her face, exhausted from crying herself to sleep, only hurt him.

He lay down beside Helena, propping his head on his arm. His delicate features looked even paler in the dim light of dawn.

‘Even in sleep, you’re bristling with thorns.’

He felt it every moment. As if to keep everyone away, he put up sharp thorns.

But it was too obvious that it wasn’t to protect herself, but rather to push herself away and get hurt instead. So,

‘I want to hold you. I want to embrace you, full of thorns. I want to hold you so tight that you burst in my arms.’

He didn’t want to love her. To call this feeling love, it was too pitiful.

It was just so haphazardly pathetic and miserable that he wanted to comfort her. Without any reason, he wanted to console her until she could laugh carelessly.

‘I don’t care if it’s my selfishness. I just want to see you smile one day.’

That night, Ian repeatedly pulled her slender wrist to check her pulse, placed a finger under her nose to feel her breath, and touched her forehead to feel her temperature.

As if he desperately needed to feel that Helena was alive.

Dawn passed slowly yet quickly.
No matter how stormy the night was, morning always came.

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

While waiting for the soup to cool, he sat numbly and wiped Helena’s face. Like caressing a child, he meticulously cleaned her eyes, nose, and mouth with a warm wet towel.

He took extra care to wipe the tear stains that had dried overnight. Surprisingly, her small, red head accepted his touch without resistance.

The problem was feeding her.

Helena’s hands trembled a lot. They were so unsteady that she dropped the spoon every few seconds.

Despite flinching every time the spoon clanged, she stubbornly kept holding it.

Soup dripped onto the table. Seeing this, Ian offered to feed her, but she firmly refused.

Finally, Ian sighed in surrender and took a string. Tying the spoon to her hand, Helena slowly ate the soup.

Ian sat in front of her, occasionally wiping her mouth with his finger. Thankfully, she didn’t reject this.

After barely managing to eat five spoonfuls, Helena finally opened her dry lips.

“I was a fish living in a fishbowl.”

Her voice was hoarse, either due to last night’s crying or the story she was about to tell.

She continued slowly, without clearing her throat.

“There was also a fish I liked in there. But I was alone because I was the only one who liked it, so lonely that I left the fishbowl. I thought I wouldn’t be lonely if I stopped liking it. I thought a new world would unfold outside the fishbowl.”