It took 13 years to meet Helena Owen again.

For Ian, those 13 years weren’t just a simple wait. Thoughts of Helena were interspersed throughout that time.

As Heidi said, it wasn’t like he thought about her constantly like an unforgettable, heartbreaking first love.

Just once when looking at the night sky while enduring hunger, once when collapsing from exhaustion during training, once when stabbing the necks of the princes one by one with a sword, once when finally ascending to the imperial throne.

That’s how he thought of her occasionally.

How much have you grown now? Have you grown out your short hair? Did you move out to the place you wanted, or are you still the same? Would you recognize me at a glance if you saw me again?

He thought about the reunion scene a bit more often.

Sometimes with green fields as the background, sometimes with the Milky Way spread across the night sky. Of course, the seaside she had promised took up the largest portion.

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

‘…Helena. What should I do with you?’

Ian carefully removed the strands of hair stuck to her face due to tears. If not for the faint breathing that could only be heard if you listened very closely, she looked like a dead person.

‘I didn’t come to see you like this.’

At first, he just wanted to meet her.

To see if she had endured well like the time he had gone through. If she was living the life she wanted. He intended to confirm that, repay what he had received in kind, and then leave with a clear conscience.

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

‘You’re so pitiful that I can’t bear to leave. I can’t just leave you be.’

He just wanted her to live.

He hoped this utterly pitiful woman would somehow find a way to live. From the moment he first saw her, that was his only thought.

A face devoid of vitality, empty eyes, a consistently lethargic attitude.

She wasn’t a person. She was just a doll that was alive because it still had breath.

So he drew out her anger, prepared to be hated. Even anger was good. He was satisfied to be able to bring an angry expression to that face that seemed to have lost everything.

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

Ian quietly stroked Helena’s hair spread out on the sheets with his fingers. It was an extremely careful touch, as if she might break if he brushed against her wrongly.

Unable to touch anywhere else, he just stroked the red hair. The face asleep after crying to exhaustion was just painful to see.

He lay down next to Helena, propping his head up with his arm. Her delicate features looked even paler due to the dim light of dawn.

‘Even when you sleep, you put up thorns.’

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

But it was so obvious that it wasn’t to protect herself, but to tell others to abandon her rather than get pricked. So.

‘So I want to hold you. I want to hold you, covered in thorns. I want to embrace you so tightly that you burst in my arms.’

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

It was so randomly pitiful and wretched that he wanted to comfort her. He wanted to comfort her for no reason until she could smile without thinking.

‘Even if it’s my selfishness, I don’t care. I want to see you smile someday.’

That night, Ian checked her pulse by pulling her slender wrist over and over, confirmed her breath by placing his finger under her nose, and felt her forehead for temperature.

As if desperately trying to feel that Helena was alive.

The dawn passed slowly yet quickly.

No matter how stormy the night, morning always came.

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

While the soup cooled, he wiped Helena’s face as she sat blankly. He carefully cleaned her eyes, nose, and mouth one by one with a warm washcloth, as if caressing a young child.

He paid extra attention to wiping away the dried tear stains from the night before. For some reason, that small red head accepted his touch docilely, though what thoughts were going through it was anyone’s guess.

The problem was feeding her.

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

Though she flinched at each clanging sound, she stubbornly kept holding it.

Thin liquid dripped onto the table. Unable to bear watching, Ian stepped in to feed her directly, but she firmly refused.

Finally, Ian sighed in surrender and picked up a string. After tying the spoon to her hand, Helena slowly ate the soup.

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

After she had barely managed five spoonfuls, Helena finally opened her dry lips.

“I was a fish living in a fishbowl.”

Whether due to last night’s sobbing or the story she was about to tell, Helena’s voice was very hoarse.

Without even clearing her rough throat, she continued speaking slowly.

“There was another fish I liked there too. But I was the only one who liked it, so I was too lonely and left the fishbowl. I thought if I stopped liking it, I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. I thought a new world would open up outside the fishbowl.”

Her tone was monotonous, as if reciting the instructions for an object. It was so devoid of emotion that it hardly felt like a person speaking, if not for the pauses for breath in between.

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 could only breathe by pouring it out like this, no matter how miserably, she spoke without stopping.

“It was better when the fish I liked was at least by my side. 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 stopped with her.

In the infinitely floating space and time, she slowly raised her head.

“In the end, I was the only one suffocating to death.”

There was no focus in her empty eyes. They were just completely void.

Ian felt an intense pain in his chest once again. It was a pain he had felt occasionally since the moment he first saw her on the beach. It felt like bile was refluxing.

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

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

As he came back after clearing away the bowl, Ian brought a small wooden box from his coat pocket. It was an ointment he had obtained by wandering the streets early in the morning.

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

Ian sighed softly and opened the ointment box. He gathered Helena’s hair and draped it over her opposite shoulder, revealing skin that was red and inflamed from being scratched mercilessly.

He silently rubbed the ointment on it. Helena remained motionless, as if all her senses were cut off. She just stared into space until he finished applying the ointment.

“…It’s done.”

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

The morning passed like that. Ordinarily.

‘Still the same.’

The first place Eugene visited was the Owen family mansion.

Since she had left the grand duke’s residence penniless, the places she could go were limited. It was clear that even if she ran away, she would at most be relying on her own family.

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

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

Eugene tried to soothe his strangely uncomfortable feelings as he pulled out a heavy pouch and tossed it onto the table.

“Please contact me when Helena arrives.”

The Owen couple opened the pouch without even a pretense of face-saving. A considerable amount of gold coins gleamed brilliantly.

A merchant-like smile was smeared 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 Duchess never escapes again. Don’t worry.”

The Owen couple absolutely did not breathe a word about the fact that Helena had already come and gone.

Helena, who had been searching for a man, and Helena, whose whereabouts had become uncertain at just about the same time. It was clear that the clever girl must have had an affair behind the Grand Duke’s back.

So to keep receiving money in the future, concealment was the best strategy. After all, the Evergail’s aid was always essential in paying off gambling debts.

Moreover, on the day that man had visited, the house that had been put up for auction was sold, and they were about to be evicted. All the more reason to somehow keep hold of the source of money.

Eugene was well aware of their base motives.

‘Such greedy creatures who don’t know their place.’

He inwardly sneered as he rose from his seat.

But something felt missing. He turned back as he was leaving.

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

Eugene swept his gaze once through the silent interior of the house. Caught off guard by the sudden glance, Baron Owen fumbled for words.

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

“No. Wasn’t there a small boy? Helena’s brother, I mean.”

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

The only being Helena loved in this household.

‘His name was… Vasen?’

As Eugene’s expression became strange, Baron Owen continued speaking as if it was nothing to worry about.

“Ah, that boy. Most pitifully, he died of pneumonia. We tried every medicine, but there was nothing we could do. He was so weak to begin with…”

…Dead?

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

He moistened his dry lips and spoke with difficulty.

“…When, when exactly did he pass away?”

“It was the year before last, but… Is there some problem?”

A shock greater than money awakened all the senses in his body once again. Eugene struggled to maintain a calm face as he asked again.

“Was the funeral held properly?”

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

“By old hometown village, do you mean… Praeterita?”

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

Baron Owen repeatedly emphasized that it was by no means his intention.

And for good reason, as Praeterita was a poor village somewhat, quite far from the dignity of a duchess.

‘…I’ve been fooled again. There’s another side of you I don’t know.’

Uncharacteristically, Eugene couldn’t hide his displeasure. It felt more than a little uncomfortable, as if he had swallowed sand. The wife he had lived with for years suddenly felt so distant.