20. Don’t Run Away
2023.11.20
“…You actually don’t know what a joke is, do you?”
Helena frowned, pressing her lips together as she scolded him, but Ian strolled ahead at a leisurely pace, seemingly unfazed. He had just tossed out a clumsy, awkward joke as if it were nothing.
Well, to be that shameless, one must be bold enough to say nonsense like that. Helena gripped her bag tightly and followed him.
“So… where are we going?”
“Just walking.”
“Without a destination?”
“It’s boring if you only walk to get somewhere.”
“Of course,” Helena muttered, frowning again, but Ian didn’t seem to care. He led the nearly resigned Helena along the coastline and finally settled on a bench with a view of the sea.
He tied her arms to the bench’s armrests in a complex knot before stepping away briefly—just in case Helena decided to leap into the ocean again.
A few minutes later, he returned carrying two steaming cups of coffee.
Helena accepted the coffee awkwardly, and Ian noticed even that subtle expression.
“Don’t like coffee? I can get you something else.”
“No… it’s not that. It’s just… I haven’t had it in so long.”
Helena didn’t even know if she liked coffee. Evergale hadn’t had it.
Eugene, plagued by insomnia, had sourced all sorts of teas but never touched coffee. Following his preferences, Helena had naturally avoided it as well. Even at social gatherings or parties outside the ducal estate, she kept her distance from it. Drinking coffee seemed as though it might repel Eugene in some way.
She tilted the cup, inhaled the aroma, and took a small sip. Even considering it came from a street vendor, the sweetness was surprisingly pleasant.
Coffee wasn’t just bitter, she realized. Remembering Eugene’s frowning face, she took another sip.
Ian sat silently beside her, listening to the afternoon waves. They remained together in quiet, maintaining a comfortable distance.
As the waves began to take on a reddish hue, Ian finally stood.
“I thought we could buy dinner and eat at the inn. Is that alright?”
“Why ask me if you’re not going to follow what I say anyway?”
“As long as you’re not running away, I’ll comply with anything.”
“Then there’s nothing.”
“Then I suppose I can’t help you either.”
Helena’s brow furrowed sharply, but if Ian had cared about that, he wouldn’t have stayed by her side this long.
No matter how stubbornly she wanted to be alone, someone had to be there with her.
Leave someone at the edge of a cliff, and they’ll fall. Ian had known that from the moment he first saw Helena.
Leading her back into the shopping district, Ian scanned the area. His eyes landed on an old woman sitting by a street stall.
He entrusted Helena to her and went inside the shop to order food.
Helena sat beside the woman, clearly displeased.
‘She’s treating me like a child left at the water’s edge.’
Still, she didn’t push the woman away or try to escape; she stayed quietly.
Resting her chin on her hand, Helena watched the sunset over the street and noticed a box filled with quince nearby.
She picked one up, letting her thoughts wander.
‘…Eugene liked quince preserved in honey.’
Perhaps because of the coins and coffee earlier, her thoughts drifted naturally to him.
Even after saying goodbye, she realized, partings were never truly final.
After all, if a single word about divorce could erase twenty years, she wouldn’t have ended up in this state.
She stared at the quince for a moment before returning it to its place.
At that moment, a man roughly grabbed her wrist.
“You ruined the fruit and now you’re trying to run off? Pay for it, or don’t touch it in the first place!”
The man, seemingly the fruit stall owner, was harsh. Helena rummaged through her bag, but of course, she had no spare change.
A mischievous smile slowly spread across the man’s face as he watched her.
“No money, huh? What are you gonna do, miss? But if you just talk to me for a bit… I could let you have it for free.”
His thumb rubbed subtly against Helena’s wrist. The rough friction felt horrid, like insects crawling. Helena jerked her arm away—but unlucky.
In the motion of breaking free, she accidentally struck the man’s jaw.
His face instantly flushed red with anger. Just as he was about to explode, the old woman panicked and pleaded with Helena.
“Miss, you don’t want to provoke him. It won’t help. Just apologize and leave.”
But Helena didn’t move. The old woman turned pale, clinging to her, while Helena only grew more puzzled.
Why should I apologize? What’s the point? Do I even need to smooth this over?
Because…
“What’s there to be afraid of… he’s probably just mad.”
Her low murmur triggered the man’s explosion. He lunged and grabbed her by the neck.
“Are you ignoring me? Do you want to die?!”
Pressed against the wall and strangled, Helena’s face turned red. She could have coughed, but her eyes—still clear blue—remained calm.
Everything about her seemed numb, like the deep indigo sea.
“You think you could kill me?”
“…What?”
“I asked if you want to die. So… could you kill me?”
Struggling for breath, Helena forced the words out. Her gaze, filled with desperation, was strangely composed for someone facing death.
The man hesitated, unnerved by the odd energy he couldn’t control.
“What… what the hell…!”
His grip on her arm weakened. Helena, however, did not release him.
“I’ll stand here. Try killing me. Go ahead.”
She grabbed his arm tightly and pressed harder against her neck. The man panicked and tried to step back—but before he could twist his body…
Bang!
His upper body suddenly slammed onto the side of the stall.
“Ahh!”
He groaned, flailing his arms as boxes of fruit toppled, spilling and smashing everywhere.
Ian pressed him down just as the man had done to her.
Every time he struggled, Ian tightened his hold, forcing louder groans.
“What the—who are you?!”
The man tried to rise but couldn’t. It was as if his neck was encased in steel. He flailed helplessly like prey caught in a trap. Helena, breathless, thought dully, Why does it look like he’s hunting instead of helping?
Ian, expression unmoved, shook a cloth bag over the man’s head. Gold coins clinked down, striking his nose and jaw with a heavy thud.
“This should cover the cost.”
“Ugh… what the hell are you?!”
Pressing him further to cut off his air, Ian bent down and whispered something into the man’s ear. Terrified, the man nodded repeatedly.
Ian released him. He coughed violently, struggling for breath. Without looking back, Ian grabbed Helena’s arms, thanked the old woman briefly, and walked away.
No one followed. People who saw the gold coins rushed the man, scrambling for a share. Chaos erupted around them.
Holding Helena’s arm, Ian continued walking.
His strides were long, forcing Helena to almost run to keep up. He only stopped when her panting became audible, as if her breaths had hit the brakes for him.
In the sunset-drenched street, he slowly turned. The soft lavender of his eyes looked tinged with red in the light. Helena sensed his imposing aura but instinctively knew he wouldn’t harm her.
She spoke calmly.
“I could have handled it myself.”
“Of course you could.”
“Really. I didn’t need your help. See? My voice is fine. My neck wasn’t pressed that hard.”
She withheld the rest of her thoughts, wondering why he had been angry.
After a short silence, Ian slightly bowed his head and let go of her arms.
It was the first time he avoided her gaze, letting Helena fully take in his expression.
“…Still, I would have done the same thing.”
She could not read his expression.
Though her neck had been pressed, the one speaking with strangled voice was him.
Raising his head again, Ian swept her hair over her shoulder and cupped her neck with his palm. He gently rubbed the slightly swollen area with his thumb, as if erasing the trace left by the fruit stall man.
Perhaps because of the intense sunset, Helena still couldn’t read his expression.
Ian pulled back his hand, preparing to turn, and added:
“But if this ever happens again, call me immediately. I’ll handle it without making a fuss, so you won’t have to worry.”
He resumed walking, slower than before. Helena followed his broad back, thinking: Why? What right do I have? Will there even be a next time for us?
A flood of questions rose, but she kept them to herself. Asking would get no answers.
Her gaze moved from his back to her hands. They were empty. Any food she had tried to carry was abandoned in the rush. A strange tightness filled her chest.
