Ping-
A thin circular piece of metal slipped between Eugene’s fingers. The coin rolled across the mahogany desk before hitting a small frame and coming to rest.
Eugene tapped his index finger on the number engraved on the coin. As he did so, he cast a long gaze at the woman in the frame.
A woman with an expressionless face but exuding flawless, elegant dignity. A woman who had abruptly left only divorce papers behind and disappeared without a trace.
There was a time when she, too, had rolled like this coin.
50 Krsant. The money-obsessed witch.
That was another name given to Helena when she was still Helena Owen. Everyone in the village of Hyer called her that.
For just 50 Krsant, she would give her nights to anyone from boys whose down hadn’t even disappeared to white-haired old men.
Of course, swearing by the name her late mother had given her, Helena was innocent.
The trouble began when she rejected the confession of love from Baron Dupont’s second son. It was likely a rumor first spread by him in his twisted anger.
But, as always, the truth isn’t what matters. What matters is how appetizing the rumor is.
Unfortunately, Helena’s very existence was like that.
A beautiful young lady from a family reduced to straw.
Attaching the label of a loose woman to her was sweet enough to roll easily off many people’s tongues.
[I heard Pepper saw her leaving Colton’s house last night.]
[Didn’t she work at Smith’s butcher shop until the day before yesterday? She couldn’t wait and changed nests again, like a fox.]
[Tsk, I wonder when she’ll come to my shop.]
With each workplace change, this Helena that she didn’t know was stripped more and more bare.
Shop owners who had their advances rejected threw their filth at her to cover their own shame.
Nevertheless, Helena had to endure. With her father Owen drowning in alcohol and gambling, she was the only one who could earn money for medicine for her younger brother Basil, who had been sickly since birth.
For his sake, she was willing to become a false prostitute gossiped about by wagging tongues.
Eugene appeared around that time.
“Are you Helena Owen?”
At a time when Helena had become more accustomed to being called 50 Krsant than her original name. Calling her properly by her name.
Six years ago, Eugene had returned with news of victory from a long war that everyone had thought hopeless.
Though from a distance it was only a temporary ceasefire, the Kingdom Alliance hastily declared defeat before Eugene, who had beheaded enemy generals one after another.
He encountered Helena at that very junction on his triumphant return. Eugene willingly drew her into his ruins.
She was a woman who had completely turned his life upside down and burrowed into it. Her mere existence claimed to be salvation. He could boldly declare it a match made by God.
The sudden death of his father and a life devastated by long bloodshed. A woman who suddenly dropped right in the middle of it all.
If this wasn’t love, what other word could possibly describe it?
So he had to have her. It was a desire that would only end once fulfilled.
His mother Christine’s opposition was fierce, but even she had to lower her tail before the Bohemian King’s encouragement.
The King gladly accepted Eugene’s decision. He even shelved the talk of an engagement with the princess that he had been quietly trying to arrange. He was notably pleased by Eugene’s declaration that he would marry for love.
Not because he liked Helena, but because he welcomed Eugene choosing a different path from his friend, Aslan Evergale. For Eugene, the reason was a blessing regardless.
“I’ll come tomorrow too. And the day after, and next week.”
Eugene confessed a future to Helena, who lived like a mayfly.
He destroyed the Dupont family, the source of the rumors, without Helena knowing. He paid off all the debts of the fallen Owen family.
Yet he did not put an end to the rumors. He did not search for a doctor to cure Basil’s illness. He did not pretend to be a perfect savior.
‘Darkness must exist for light to be present.’
While Eugene felt sorry for her suffering in harsh circumstances, he welcomed those things that pushed her into the abyss.
If the ground she stood on continued to break apart and be cut away until there was nowhere to step, it would be easier for her to depend on him.
“Please leave now. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back anymore.”
So that such words of rejection would no longer come easily.
It was the first time Eugene had been rejected by anyone.
He never dreamed that he would experience this clumsy, imperfect first—the thing he hated most—from a country girl of no significance.
So he had to be an unforgettable first for her as well. He had to be the light she would cling to without hesitation.
So Eugene decided to completely restore her precious name instead of 50 Krsant. By attaching his surname after hers.
“Let’s get married, Helena Evergale.”
Fortunately, and as expected, though it took some time, Helena became just that.
“I will gladly become Helena Evergale.”
When she accepted his proposal, Eugene felt a similar euphoria to when he had cried out in victory on the battlefield. If it was love, then it was intense love.
Now, with much having changed since then, that beginning had become a boring and expected end. Though rumors became scandals that eventually gnawed at both of them before subsiding.
Of course, Eugene had no desire to acknowledge or even recognize it. The one who needed to recognize it was her.
Even a jagged stone releases sand grains when scraped by sea winds. It was more absurd to think it would forever feel like a honeymoon.
‘Don’t make me think the reason lies with me, Helena.’
Just as Natasha had her place, Helena had hers. That had been determined from the moment he met her.
That was all there was to it.
****
Helena of Praeterita.
A rose blooming between walls.
Though she was a girl who left before fully blooming, she was a flower that remained brilliantly imprinted in memory.
Twelve-year-old Paul, who had lived behind her house, remembered her.
His brother Theo, who had spent a long time with her, would have remembered much more. It was a moment when he keenly felt the loss of his brother who had passed away first.
Still, Paul answered as sincerely as he knew how to the large man with kind eyes, like the massive tree at the edge of the village.
He said he had come looking for Helena.
Upon hearing that she was no longer in Praeterita, his expression hardened slightly, but when Paul informed him that the Owen family had moved to Hyer, he visibly relaxed.
“Thank you for telling me. Use this to give your brother a proper funeral.”
But who could have expected such a stroke of fortune?
The large man left as swiftly as he had come. Paul slowly opened his palm. Five gold coins glittered, looking out of place against his dirty skin.
“Whoa.”
Occasionally, gentlemen passing through the village would have him run errands and toss him coins. But none had ever given such heavy yellow coins.
Paul didn’t know what to do and just shuffled his feet anxiously. Then he entrusted the gold coins to his grandfather standing nearby and quickly ran after Ian.
“Excuse me! Wait a moment!”
Ian and Dion stopped walking. Paul put his hands on his knees, exhaling roughly, then thrust out his fist.
“I’ll… g-give you this.”
It was the bouquet he had just placed on his brother’s grave. The stems, squeezed too tightly, had broken and wilted.
Along with them, Paul’s face flushed bright red.
“I’m sorry it’s only this. But it’s the prettiest thing I have…..”
His voice grew even smaller. His grimy fist didn’t know where to place itself out of embarrassment.
Would such a mere flower be worth anything to someone who carried gold coins like small change? Paul blamed himself for his hasty impulse.
Meanwhile, Ian carefully took the bouquet from the boldly extended fist. He brought the flowers to his face and lightly smelled their fragrance, then smiled pleasantly.
“Marigold.”
“……What?”
“This flower’s name is marigold. Just as you and I have names, this wildflower also has a name that hopes someone will recognize it.”
Ian lowered his gaze to the boy and asked gently.
“What’s your name?”
“P-Paul. My grandfather found me on the street, but my brother Theo named me.”
“Theo……?”
Ian’s lips stiffened slightly. His gaze became blank as if something specific had caused him to pause. As if scanning a particular part of the past.
After a moment of silence, Ian looked down at Paul with deepened eyes.
“……I see. Paul, thank you for the beautiful flower. Your grandfather gave your brother a good younger sibling.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Theo must have been happy to have you. Even I can tell, having just met you.”
Ian stroked the small head. Paul nodded his head and returned to the old man.
Dion, who had been watching this from a few steps away, quietly approached and grumbled.
“You’re really, very, extremely kind. Would it be possible to treat me that way too?”
“I’m not merciful enough to accompany a servant who talks too much.”
Ian turned away coldly. The gentle face he had shown the child had completely disappeared. Dion, seemingly accustomed to this, simply bowed his head loosely and walked beside him.
“Yes, of course. Silence is golden. I, who have neither gold nor anything else, should keep quiet on my own.”
Ian, withdrawing his glare, once again took the lead, walking along the carrot field. He still tightly held the wildflower with its crumpled stem in his hand.
Dion’s head tilted in curiosity.
‘Why on earth is he keeping that?’
For Dion, detecting crisis was a learned ability, but curiosity was a primal whisper that stimulated him. One that ultimately made him risk danger.
“But may I really ask just one last thing?”
“If it’s useless, prepare to be planted upside down next to these carrots.”
Ian’s brow furrowed at the question that had daringly entered the tiger’s den. Dion quickly pointed at the wildflower.
“Are you really not going to throw that away? It’s not like it’s rare or anything, they’re all over the roadside… Ah. Wait, could it be… could it be…?”
Dion covered his mouth with his hand, expressing shock as if he had just realized something. Instead of rebuking him, Ian softly smiled, his eyes crinkling.
“I really think the spot next to the carrot would suit you best. You even look alike. That carrot might have originally been a person like you who was cursed and ended up like that.”
Hmm. Using the formal ‘you’ now. Warning alert.
“I apologize.”
“Ah, are you perhaps the uncle who ran away in the night after spending all his fortune when entering the Academy? Why don’t you go over and say hello? He might jump out with his dirt-covered roots asking why you’ve only come now.”
“I am deeply sorry.”
“You might want to dig around carefully, you might still have the fortune you stole then. It would be good to add it to the expenses.”
“I must have been temporarily insane.”
“If you understand, go do your job.”
“Yes. Your Majesty’s faithful servant, Dion Sedrick, will now go to prepare for Your Majesty’s safe journey to the destination.”
The imprudent servant hurried away with quick steps, lest he be planted upside down in the carrot field. His figure disappeared faster than ever before.
Left alone, Ian vacantly looked up at the sky. Gray clouds were gathering as if a heavy rain would pour down at any moment.
As he slowly opened his hand that had been clutching the wildflower, a faint floral scent emanated from his palm where flower juice remained. Old memories began to naturally intertwine.
[Theo’s grandfather said that. Things I don’t have now but want to possess, things I desire, things I hope for. That’s what desire is. So desiring isn’t a sin. It’s natural, isn’t it? To want what you want.]
She had appeared like a beam of new light entering. That voice, those nights. He had never forgotten them for a moment.
[Trample on all those who pushed you into this situation, and seize what you want. Climb to the highest place and let them know. Make it so everyone has no choice but to see you.]
Ian also remembered the girl’s skin that had touched his fingertips. It wasn’t a pulse that was gently engraved.
[Tell them that I, whom you abandoned, am proudly breathing, living, existing.]
It was a heartbeat that had mercilessly devoured and become embedded like a stake.
