Even if Your Regret Holds Me Back (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16
“The wind is sharp. You’d best be careful until your body fully recovers.”
This time, his tone was somewhat gentler.
Helena slowly brought her body, which had been leaning out the window, back to its original position. She hadn’t even considered doing otherwise.
After all, as he’d said, it was merely the second floor—she’d only wanted to catch a whiff of the street below.
But she couldn’t help feeling irritated anyway. Turning around, she faced the man with cold eyes.
“Why should I listen to someone I’ve just met?”
“…….”
“…….”
Thirty seconds passed in complete silence.
He seemed as if he wanted to say something, then finally reached out his hand. Helena’s body instinctively flinched.
Seeing that, his outstretched arm halted midway. His face twisted slightly in evident discomfort.
His knuckles stood out as his hand clenched into a fist just beside her cheek, then opened again. After repeating this motion several times, he finally extended his arm fully and closed the window.
Helena watched his every movement closely. The bitter expression on his face washed away with the sigh he let out.
“Since we’re strangers, how about adding a brief clarification—like the fact that I saved your life?”
With the window now shut, she felt a solid support behind her back. Helena crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill.
“I have nothing to give you. I own nothing.”
“You can give something.”
Helena tilted her head back. To properly look at him from this distance required considerable effort.
He seemed slightly taller than Eugene. She’d rarely seen anyone as tall as Eugene in her life—and looking up at him now made her neck ache even more than when she looked up at Eugene.
Unsatisfied even with this height, she frowned slightly and asked,
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
She truly owned nothing now. The only thing she could possibly offer, if anything, was this.
She’d only asked to confirm—but Helena had to admit, the question wasn’t half bad.
For the first time, she saw him genuinely flustered. His violet pupils briefly contracted and expanded.
Though the bitter expression soon returned to mask everything.
“I already told you,” he said.
“What I want…”
Ian’s hand slid up along her arm until it reached her shoulder, maintaining a hair’s-breadth distance as if brushing against downy feathers, his fingertips catching the loose fabric.
“…is for you to live.”
Her garment, which had slipped off her shoulder, was now neatly back in place.
Perhaps because her undergarment had been exposed—where his fingers had brushed, her skin tingled, and Helena averted her eyes.
Both fell silent once more.
After a moment, Helena slowly straightened her body from the windowsill. In response to her movement, Ian stepped back a pace.
Now she no longer had to crane her neck. Instead, she gave a tiny nod.
“……What are you doing?”
“Expressing my gratitude. Upon reflection, I suppose I can afford this much.”
Helena walked past him, scanning the room. Beneath the side table, she spotted a long leather strap—her nearly empty bag.
She strode over and snatched it up, slinging it onto her shoulder.
“I’ll show just as much gratitude as I feel, so don’t take it too personally. Consider this a lesson: next time, don’t meddle needlessly in other people’s affairs.”
“It wasn’t meddling in someone else’s business.”
He approached with an unusually resolute expression. Anticipating yet another endless argument, Helena simply turned her head away.
The door was locked, and she needed to escape this room.
Unfortunately, the only visible exit was the window.
At worst, she’d break something other than her limbs. Helena moved to pass him again, heading back toward the window.
But Ian seized the moment and caught her wrist. His grip was firm yet not overly forceful.
Helena’s eyes widened.
“You won’t let go, will you?”
“You know that well.”
“Then why can’t you understand this? Stop meddling in other people’s affairs!”
“It’s because it’s you, Helen.”
“Don’t pretend you know everything about me. How do you even know my name—?”
Grrrrumble…
“…….”
“…….”
Unbelievable. Of all times, it had to happen right now.
Helena’s face flushed hotly. Her carefully constructed argument crumbled instantly before this primal, unapologetic instinct.
It had been so long since she’d felt genuine embarrassment. She’d long thought herself immune to most insults—even enduring mockery from every statue she passed without a flicker of emotion.
Yet this utterly simple sound had dredged up a feeling she’d long forgotten.
As though that emotion itself had settled atop her head, Helena couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze. Even after his grip on her wrist loosened, she remained frozen in place.
Ian, however, acted as if nothing had happened and calmly suggested,
“Let’s go get something to eat.”
“……I’m not hungry.”
“You’re still as bad at lying as ever.”
He was smiling. Helena didn’t need to look at his face to know—it was evident in his voice.
Even if he wasn’t laughing outright, she could tell he wore at least a faint smile.
Refusing to meet his eyes, Helena kept her head down stubbornly, maintaining her silence. Then something enveloped her.
“……?”
It was a light, warm cape made of blue marten fur. Soon, his hand slipped around her neck as well.
“It’s cold outside.”
Ian tied the cape’s knot with practiced ease. Only then did Helena slowly lift her head.
Meeting her gaze, Ian smiled just as she’d expected—a teasing, infuriatingly smug curl at the corners of his eyes—as he asked,
“Conveniently, I happen to have both the time to share a meal and the money to meddle in your stomach’s affairs. Ah, would that kind of meddling be permitted?”
Helena pursed her lips tightly and exhaled sharply through her nose. He truly was the most bothersome man. Clinging to her without warning and refusing to let go.
Resigned, she pointed toward the door.
“The doorknob’s bent because of you. How do you expect to leave?”
“Well… perhaps we could just break it down entirely.”
He reached the door in just a few steps and gripped the knob. With a sharp crack of splintering wood, the entire door panel fell away.
“Simple enough.”
Having opened the door in a manner she’d never seen before, he stepped aside. Apparently, even now, he intended to play the gentleman with that ridiculous “ladies first” etiquette.
Helena stepped forward, wearing the clothes he’d bought, wrapped in the cape he’d tied, carrying the bag he’d retrieved.
Without realizing it, everything now bore this man’s mark.
“That’s true. Unlike relationships, which can’t be broken so easily.”
She especially emphasized the word “relationship.” As she stepped through the doorway, she made sure to glare pointedly at Ian, clearly indicating the subject of her remark.
Ian propped the ruined door in the corner and matched his pace to hers.
“Even if it’s not simple, it’ll break someday.”
His words made a black-haired man flash briefly through Helena’s mind.
Another person who’d clung to her relentlessly, whom she’d never been able to push away.
Imprinted time was truly a regrettable thing. Helena shook her head to dispel the lingering image.
At that moment, Ian, walking beside her, came to a brief halt. When she looked at him questioningly, he spoke with an unreadable expression.
“Even so, I hope it won’t break just yet.”
Then he descended the stairs. His well-kept silver hair tangled slightly in his grasp.
Helena followed him toward the dining room, forcing herself not to think further.
Is it you I’m thinking of now—or him?
[This is the timeline separator]Ding—ding—ding—
The clear chime of the clock tower in the square rang out ten times.
Ten in the morning—an hour too late for breakfast, yet slightly early for lunch.
Helena sat facing Ian, each with a plate of food before them.
Despite the ambiguous hour, the café was quite crowded—likely because it was in a relatively bustling district. The clamor of chatter floated in the air like dust.
‘What am I even doing right now?’
Everything felt awkward—the noisy bustle, her own hands mechanically mashing potatoes, and the man calmly eating across from her.
Helena stole a cautious glance at him. His fingers, of moderate thickness and well-defined joints, moved deftly above his plate.
Upon closer inspection, small scars occasionally appeared on the back of his hand each time he used his knife.
‘Now that I think of it, there was one on his forearm too. I wonder if there are even more elsewhere.’
She was curious what kind of life he led to carry so many scars—but she didn’t ask. She didn’t want to seem interested.
“Your gaze is quite intense. The potatoes might burn.”
Of course—this was exactly what she’d feared.
His eyes, however, remained fixed on his plate. Helena pressed her fork harder into the potatoes as she replied,
“If I could, I would.”
“Well, I happen to like burnt potatoes, so that works out. Feel free to keep staring.”
“I’m not interested.”
He gave a small chuckle. His voice resonated pleasantly—just as Eugene’s did.
Reluctantly, Helena brought a forkful of mashed potatoes to her mouth. Chew, swallow, chew, swallow. Yet the awkward tension refused to dissipate.
The table was narrow; unless she kept her eyes glued solely to her plate, Ian would inevitably be in view.
She rolled a baked bean pod around with her fork and glanced up again. Though the knife nestled between his long fingers appeared slightly larger than hers, his precise movements masked any sense of incongruity.
Where had he learned such etiquette?
From his clothing alone, he seemed like an ordinary townsman of modest means—but she couldn’t take that at face value.
He was clearly far from ordinary. That much was obvious at a glance.
His voice, gait, even the smallest gestures blended ruggedness with refined grace. When not smiling, the sheer presence of his physique became even more imposing.
He also spoke with the clipped enunciation common among the upper class—particularly reminiscent of Eugene’s. Yet his tone carried warmth rather than coldness, which quietly surprised Helena.
‘I always thought that accent sounded inherently aloof.’
“If you’re not interested, why do you keep staring?”
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
Who cares? 😒 That mf deserves a lot of pain 😒😒😡😡
EXACTLY! She’s with someone else …now you aint shit
Me too 😒 she should have kicked his balls and cut them 🤔