8. The Shelf Life of Affection
2023.11.08
“Can you really think you can pose as a family with trash like this?”
“Y-you said your piece? Judging by the look of it, you got kicked out of the Evergale household. And yet here you are, strutting around like you did something impressive! Can’t you just crawl back and beg?”
Matilda’s eyes, lifted with fierce confidence, were sharp and cold. Helena unclenched her fists, which had been tight until now. She felt the sting where her nails had dug into her palms.
Or perhaps some invisible place hurt even more. Honestly, she didn’t even know where the pain was.
She simply spat out her final words like a person vomiting after a bout of indigestion.
“I didn’t get kicked out. I left on my own. And I would do the same here.”
A metallic tang rose from her bitten lips. Helena slammed the door behind her and left the mansion.
Bang!
A sharp vibration rattled her ears once, but no further commotion followed. As she strode forward, the only thing following her was her own shadow.
Ah… suddenly, Helena realized something.
This wasn’t just a simple regression she was trapped in. It was perfect misfortune, crafted solely for her.
No matter how much she struggled, there was no way out, and the world mocked her with a wide, crimson grin.
After the commotion subsided, Matilda sank into her chair, fanning her flushed face.
The tipsy Baron Owen had already buried his head in the table and fallen asleep.
“Oh, that firebrand…”
Matilda exhaled a long sigh to calm herself, then unleashed a torrent of scolding toward Helena.
“A few days ago, some decent-looking madman came by. I wonder how she behaved in public. No wonder the Duke chased her away in anger.”
“She didn’t strike me as the kind of person the Duke would do that to.”
“It’s been five years since they got married. Seems the Duke’s patience with Helena finally ran out.”
“She should’ve been cherished more, though.”
“Hmph. I always knew this day would come. A man caught by the legs slips away like sand through fingers, my son.”
Eric yawned, paying little attention. He stared into the air briefly, stubbed out his cigar, and clicked his tongue.
“Love… sure has a short shelf life.”
As he remembered, the Duke had treated Helena with the utmost devotion when they married.
All the young ladies in the village had envied her so much they had even tried to cause trouble.
As Matilda said, it wasn’t entirely unforeseeable that love could fade eventually.
To someone of such high status, Helena was nothing more than a beautiful porcelain doll.
Even as the lady of the Duke’s household, it was the same. The ground she stood on belonged to the world she lived in.
Once familiarity seeps into love, the doll is discarded to make room for a new one.
In Eric’s eyes, Helena was such a being. Her fate was essentially sealed.
With a life destined to roll along the floor, what more could she have?
The path Helena could choose had only ever been one.
“Well, we did profit quite a bit thanks to her. She could’ve held out another ten years, but she makes a fuss after only five.”
It was unfortunate that their income stream might be cut off, but it wasn’t a problem.
With that face, even remarriage would make her desirable anywhere.
“Last I heard, old Hector, the nouveau riche, was looking for a young bride at his age.”
Handing Helena over in exchange for forgiving gambling debts would be perfect. No doubt he’d go after her like a dog in heat.
Having settled that matter in his mind, Eric moved on to another topic.
“But who was that man?”
“What man?”
Eric rubbed the bruised, swollen skin under his eyes with his uninjured arm.
“The bastard who put me in this position.”
Five days ago, a man had come to the mansion.
His appearance was shabby, no different from an ordinary commoner, yet his face was oddly refined.
He had barged in, demanding Helena’s whereabouts, looking desperate.
Even leaving aside the fact that he was searching for Helena, the man was infuriating.
He had stirred chaos in the Owen household like a whirlwind.
Recalling that nightmare, Matilda scowled and waved her hand.
“So that Helena brat must’ve flirted and acted frivolously again. A man like that has nothing but the look of a lover, right? The Duke must’ve noticed and temporarily sent her away since he was already fed up.”
“Ah… even if she’d been kicked out, that man wouldn’t have thrown a fit if you hadn’t said she was dead. Only my father and I got hit for nothing.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. That way he gives up and won’t come back. Judging by appearances, they’ve probably decided on a romantic escape together.”
“Pfft, that naive girl wouldn’t do something so reckless…”
“Hmph, even a gentle cat climbs the stove first sometimes.”
Though Matilda spoke with sharp certainty, Eric snorted inwardly.
‘Helena running off on a love escape? Even after Basil’s death, she accepted our support quietly. If she had that audacity, she would have cut ties with us long ago.’
It was absurd just to hear, yet Matilda acted as though it were fact.
As if she wanted to confirm that Helena was just as shallow, petty, and immoral as herself.
Eric shook his head in exasperation.
“And what if she really does run away?”
“No, Helena will come back to us.”
Matilda was firm.
“She has no place to stand and is always thirsty for affection. If the Duke asks about her whereabouts, we simply keep our mouths shut.”
“She’s about to run out of time anyway… That rascal might still go to the Duke. Maybe it’s better to tip off old Hector in advance?”
“What are you talking about? Do you want me to become the fool who chases away the golden goose? We endure this to the very end. Hector can be warned afterward.”
“The position of the Duke’s wife isn’t just something you endure…”
“Don’t speak nonsense. It isn’t over until a full divorce. Helena and that man? We haven’t seen them. We know nothing. Got it?”
Helena had insisted she left the Duke’s residence on her own.
At that moment, it seemed long over, yet Matilda’s piercing eyes left Eric no choice but to nod.
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
The grand chandelier lit the hall as if it were daytime. Soft music and laughter mingled beneath it.
Eugene clicked his tongue and swallowed his wine with a grimace.
‘Still the same taste.’
Had it not been for the hostess being his mother, he wouldn’t have set foot in such extravagance.
Even after the initial fervor following his husband’s death waned, his meticulous temperament had not. Everywhere, dazzling brilliance rivaling a royal banquet flashed.
Eugene tilted his glass slowly, surveying the crowd. Pairs of men and women immediately came into view.
Annoying, to say the least.
If not for maintaining the social mask of distant relatives, he wouldn’t want to meet any of these people.
Suppressing his irritation, Eugene waited for the hostess to appear. He had planned to just show his face and leave.
Fortunately, before his patience ran out, the person he awaited arrived. A lavishly adorned older woman approached, fluttering a fan.
“Long time no see, Eugene.”
“Seems your sense of timing differs from mine. We meet far too often.”
“You still haven’t corrected your coldness.”
“And yet, you never asked for it.”
The first greeting between blood relatives carried a definite chill. Yet Christine remained calm, unfazed.
“Don’t worry. When I die, bury me with plenty of diamonds. Stones remain unchanged for life, far more lovable than people. Every time I see you, I’m more certain of that.”
Eugene’s barely restrained irritation slipped onto his face.
Christine smiled faintly, her beauty still intact despite the cruel passing of time.
Yet she raised her fan as if to hide the slightest wrinkle.
She then gestured to Eugene’s empty side.
“By the way, where’s that girl? She used to follow you around like a hunting hound.”
“That girl.”
Outside formal occasions, Christine often referred to Helena this way.
Not Mrs. Evergale, not the gentle young wife, not Helen—simply “that girl.”
Eugene corrected her carefully.
“My wife is resting. She’s unwell and won’t be able to attend for now, so you shouldn’t arrange any formal gatherings.”
Christine’s eyes instantly sharpened.
“Now you’re making excuses. Tsk, growing lazier… sitting in a position far beyond your worth and failing your duties. Shameful.”
“I’m not your daughter-in-law to entertain your amusements.”
“Then don’t lie from the start.”
Christine put away her fan, letting her anger show openly.
“You don’t know how arrogant that girl has become. Last month, she told me to scale down the party because of a potential famine. Her excuses mirrored her own poverty. Had I known she would defy me like this, I would have corrected her more strictly back then.”
She waved her fan subtly at the surrounding nobles to signal they should join in.
A Baron, waiting for a chance to intervene, quickly whispered in Christine’s ear.
“You’re too harsh. Don’t you understand the Duke? Even he could find seeing his wife every day tiresome. Just bear with it for one day.”
The Baroness laughed, wrapping her hand around the Baron’s arm.
“People say like attracts like. A couple must understand each other.”
“Fortunately, our standards match, so we never tire of each other.”
Watching Christine’s loyal pack of barking nobles, Eugene snorted quietly.
Beneath their flesh, there would only be indistinguishable skeletons—yet they carried such pride.
Eugene wasn’t in the mood to swallow this tiresome conversation today.
So he spat it out.
“It seems that’s just your illusion, Lord.”
The short sentence landed heavily. The flow of the room shifted. Air that had drifted freely now focused on him.
Even the previously relaxed Christine, the Baron and Baroness, and the watching nobles all held their breath and looked at Eugene.
He paid them no mind and threw a mocking glance at the Baroness.
“If she clung so desperately, abandoning her children and husband to come running… well, that memory isn’t that old. If you’re testing my memory, I understand, but patience…”
Turning back to the Baron, Eugene’s face was completely expressionless. Only a suffocating sense of authority remained, flashing in his golden eyes.
“Honestly? I don’t know how long I can endure this either.”
