19. Love Severed
2023.11.19
“If only Basil is alive… what about me?”
“Eugene, I—”
“Then what about the one you want to live, me?”
Her voice hit the white sheets like a blot of ink, sharp and heavy. Eugene ground his teeth together.
“No matter how much I try to care for you…!”
Helena knew. Eugene loved her. Precisely, he loved only her.
He wanted to bring her alone from the Owen household and cut everything else away. Often, he even showed signs that he wished never to see the rest again.
But she couldn’t sever herself. Eugene, loving even that foolishness, had sent money until now.
As long as her attention shifted to Evergale, it didn’t matter to him if he tossed a little money her way, as if offering charity.
But today, it seemed the timing was wrong.
Perhaps she had touched a sore spot. Every trace of expression vanished from Eugene’s face, terrifying in its emptiness.
He swallowed the words he could not finish, his breath trembling, and spoke with a voice perfectly calm.
“Do you know what people say about you?”
“…….”
“They call you a parasite clinging to Evergale. I can’t understand why someone bearing Evergale’s name should hear that.”
The sharpness in Eugene’s words drained the color from Helena’s face. Even though she had heard those words embedded in her heart dozens of times before, hearing them from Eugene pierced her the deepest.
Helena’s eyes darted nervously as she stammered,
“I’m sorry… but Basil—”
“That damned Basil, Basil! Aren’t you tired of him?”
“Eugene…!”
“I’d rather you had nothing to tie you to that household at all!”
Crash! Boom!
A violent storm of lightning and thunder struck with Eugene’s roar. Helena froze, feeling as though her very breath had been cut off.
Her fingertips had turned pale, lifeless. Slowly, moisture gathered in her wide eyes.
“What did you just say…? How can you say that, knowing what Basil means to me…!”
“And do you even know what you mean to me? Watching you being talked about like that by everyone else is far more unbearable!”
Eugene released her arm and snatched the painting. Helena screamed, but his rage came first.
“You are the lady of Evergale, not a street girl living under scorn in Hyer!”
Shhhik… snap… shhhik.
Helena’s eyes widened further, and finally, the tears she had held back fell.
Outside, thunder shook the earth, yet the small sound of paper tearing was painfully sharp to her ears.
“Please, don’t… stop… stop it…”
Tears streaming, Helena clung to Eugene. The torn pieces fell to the floor one by one, and she collapsed atop them.
She scrambled to gather the fragments, her frantic movements leaving deep scratches on the soft carpet, like her heart, cut to shreds.
Eugene watched silently for a moment before turning his back.
Stopping a few steps away by the door, he looked at her from the edge of his vision.
“Forget everything else. Remember only this, Helena.”
Thud. The door closed, and Eugene left the room.
Lightning struck several more times. Helena couldn’t tell whether the trembling she felt was from the thunder or from her own sobs.
From that day onward, Eugene and Helena spoke no more. It wasn’t until the fifth evening, at dinner, that the first words were exchanged.
Eugene spoke first.
“The storm sank ships and caused huge losses in my trading business. I was on edge and took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
“…….”
Helena said nothing, her gaze fixed on her plate as she quietly mashed her potatoes.
Eugene scanned her expression, then filled the silence with his voice again.
“I sent some extra money yesterday, just in case. Next time something like this happens, don’t try to handle it alone. I can do this much for you.”
“……Thank you.”
Helena spoke for the first time in five days. Her voice was calm, quieter than expected.
Eugene resumed cutting the roasted lamb on his plate.
“Still, for a while, it’s best to avoid Hyer. At least until the rumors die down. I understand how you feel, Helena.”
“I understand. I was thoughtless. I shouldn’t have been stubborn. I’ll be careful.”
Seeing her respond obediently, Eugene relaxed and continued cutting.
“Next week, the royal family will hold the princess’s birthday celebration. Stay at the townhouse and focus on social activities. It may be difficult at first, but you’ll gradually secure your position. I might be away again at any time.”
“I will.”
“I’ll make sure your mother stops spying on you, too.”
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
Helena’s gaze remained fixed on the mashed potatoes. Her responses were mechanical, flat, like a broken toy.
A few minutes later, she slowly set her knife down and spoke again.
“But, Eugene… no matter how petty or miserable it gets, even if people call me a parasite… I cannot sever that connection.”
Her quiet voice stopped Eugene’s knife mid-motion. His sharp gaze met hers, but Helena did not look at him.
Basil was in the Owen household—the only blood she had left.
If she were to save the red-haired child who resembled her, she could not let go.
“When everything I could hold onto is gone…”
Helena put down her fork without glancing at Eugene. Her hand tightened around the knife instead.
“…it’s the only thing left for me.”
.
.
.
And today, Helena finally scoffed at the versions of herself from past lives.
After all the endurance and protection, the only thing remaining was this tattered painting fragment.
She hugged it to her chest, holding Basil’s only trace to her heart, and followed Ian’s lead.
People here, people there.
The midday streets were crowded. Dion stopped in the middle.
‘My lord?’
The crowd made it hard to be certain, but he thought he saw Ian for an instant.
He pressed forward through the throng. Behind him, the knights Ian had left fell in step with light footsteps.
“What? Did I see wrong?”
He entered the main street, but Ian was nowhere to be seen. Chasing a trace already lost, his frustration grew.
He slowed to a trudge, and the knights stopped running. Dion glanced at them.
Instead of an elite unit in shining silver armor, he saw the disheveled five brothers—not much different from himself.
Even they must have been admired at court at some point, yet somehow they ended up like stray dogs chasing chickens. It was pitiful.
On such a fine day, they were witnessing only lovebirds flaunting their passion in hidden alleys.
‘Passionate from midday, I see. Enjoy yourselves.’
Dion turned his head in embarrassment. This was not the time to leisurely watch lovers kissing.
He unfolded the map he had bought from a shop to plan the next route. Finding the way in the crowd was no easy task.
“Ah, sorry.”
Despite trying to be careful, he collided with a passerby. In the scramble, one knight broke from the group.
Dion shouted, alarmed.
“Sakin! I said no solo actions! And that’s the right side! Are you trying to go back the way you came?”
The blue-haired man quickly braked, puzzled by a signpost. Then, realizing the mistake, he struck his palm in realization and turned left—clearly the wrong direction.
Dion closed his eyes tightly, unable to watch further.
How could someone so bad with directions be considered elite? Instinct? Skill? Stamina?
He gave up thinking further. His head hurt enough. He snapped at another blonde knight laughing nearby.
“What are you doing, Eli! Hurry and catch up!”
It was clear his lord intended to shorten his life.
Ian led Helena across the street. The screaming male voice faded behind them.
The aide, whining while he should have been with Helena, was unnecessary. A brief pang of guilt slowed his thoughts, but the conclusion remained the same.
‘Fortunately, Sakin is inadvertently buying us some time.’
Ian was glad if it continued this way. It was not his fault that Sakin was hopelessly directionless.
Ian left the main road and searched for an inn further from the center, finally stopping. The side street was empty.
“Helena?”
She stood there, holding the painting in both hands, staring. She looked up, her expression troubled.
“Is something wrong?” Ian asked as he approached. Helena placed the painting in her bag and spoke.
“I’ll ask just one thing.”
“Ask as many as you like.”
“Did Eugene send this?”
“…….”
Ian was at a loss for words. He hadn’t prepared an answer, but more than that, it was strange to hear that name spoken by Helena.
As silence stretched, Helena was about to speak again, but Ian asked,
“Who is Eugene?”
“I think I know.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Then why do you dislike him so much?”
“I’ve never disliked him.”
“You frowned just hearing his name.”
“The sunlight was too bright,” he lied, though Helena’s skeptical gaze remained. They were in the shade behind a shop.
“Or maybe you’re just dazzled. So stop staring like that.”
