11. The Man Looking for My Wife
2023.11.11.
When I was still too young to be left alone, a child clutched my hand tightly with pale fingers, exhaled a faint breath, and spoke:
“Sis, you don’t have to come anymore. I know the Grand Duke doesn’t want you here.”
“Basil.”
“I’m fine. Just grant me one favor. Later, later… if I die before you… please bury me in Preterita’s cemetery.”
“…Basil.”
The little child who used to comfort my tearful self.
“There’s Grandma Margo in the backyard, the butcher’s kid, and Mom too. Promise me you’ll do that, okay?”
“…Alright. I promise.”
“Thank you, Sis. You must be happy. Truly happy.”
The small arms that used to embrace me… now there was no way to feel how warm they once were. There was no one left to tell me.
The family that only existed in name, the lover who had promised forever, my mother, Basil—none remained.
The more I missed them, the more I resented them. The more I resented them, the more I missed them.
“If both of them leave so quickly, why can’t I even die?”
Why… why? Everyone leaves, and only I remain.
I don’t want to be here alone. I want to stop waiting. Take me too, Mom. Please, please…
Helena hunched forward, as if embracing a figure invisible to others. Between her scraping fingers, dry grass tore.
What is it that life demands of her, forcing her to repeat nothing but pain over and over?
Helena stayed curled up like that, as if dead, for a long while. She only moved about an hour later.
She forced herself to rise, stiff and aching, holding back her tears. She prayed that the figure turning away from her back wouldn’t appear lonely. But deep down, she knew.
She was utterly alone.
The arched pillars of warm, antique brown and the softly glowing ivory marble floors gave the hallway the clean, refined air typical of the Evergale estate.
Adding weight to that elegance, the regular tap of polished shoes echoed.
The staff, seeing who the footsteps belonged to, paused in their tasks and saluted in unison.
Whenever Eugene returned from his duties, the estate always became unusually bustling. The hallway split open in perfect order.
Through that, Eugene strode without hesitation. A butler, waiting at the front door, opened it to match his pace and stood beside him.
He handed his coat to the butler and asked:
“Helena?”
“No news yet.”
The butler bowed briefly and replied. A faint smirk escaped Eugene.
“Always wandering around, aren’t you?”
Without further instruction, Eugene continued walking. Even though he had been out since early morning, fatigue didn’t show on his face.
Instead, he immediately headed to the training hall. There was nothing better than exhausting his muscles to release the day’s frustrations.
Though once weary of the smell of iron from the battlefield, recently even small things made him restless.
At the training hall, Eugene unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, glancing to his side.
A burly, middle-aged knight stood steadfastly. A loyal retainer who had served Evergale since Eugene’s father’s time.
“You’ve been consistent.”
Turning forward again, Eugene picked two suitable swords. He tossed one to the knight and asked casually:
“Sir, do you know Helena?”
“….”
“Sir Argyle.”
“This is my first time.”
Eugene hadn’t expected a meaningful answer, but he didn’t want one completely unrelated either.
Frowning in displeasure, Eugene watched as the knight added:
“This is the first time Your Excellency has asked me about my lady.”
“….”
Eugene ended the conversation, pausing his hand from drawing the sword.
First time, huh? Yes, that made sense. There had been no need to know.
Helena Evergale before Eugene’s eyes was Helena Evergale—always, endlessly, unchanging.
So he didn’t believe her words of farewell. He trusted her steadfastness, tiresomely unwavering.
Even placed beside the mounted stag heads in the hallway, he could be sure she would endure longer.
“It’s stranger for a husband to ask about his wife. Feels like a relationship without trust.”
Eugene moved to a spacious area, speaking as the sunlight caught the sharpened tips of the swords, scraping the floor lightly.
“So, how much do you think you know about Helena?”
His tone was calm yet sharp. The middle-aged knight paused, then murmured:
“I’m not sure my answer matters. Ultimately, the only one your lady would want to know is Your Excellency.”
“…Of course. Naturally.”
Eugene exhaled lightly, holding the sword in the most comfortable way.
“But knowing doesn’t stop me from sometimes… not understanding Helena.”
“…I see.”
The conversation ended quietly. The knight bowed and assumed his stance.
From here, every nerve had to be focused, or the floor might suddenly meet his face.
Sensing the tension, Eugene slightly lowered his upper body.
“Today I might be rough, Sir. The morning meeting was unsatisfactory, and I’m in a bad mood.”
“Understood.”
Eugene moved first.
Soon, the training hall was filled with the sharp metallic clash of blades.
Eugene returned to his office, kicking the door impatiently. The confined space felt suffocating, but he forced himself into his chair.
To calm his restless mind, he threw himself into work, though it wasn’t easy.
Knock. Knock.
While staring at uninteresting documents, Butler Gordon knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
A middle-aged man, hair neatly combed and wearing a monocle, appeared and gave his usual orderly report.
The content was normal, except for an addition at the end: a poorly dressed man was lingering outside the estate.
“Handle it as you see fit. Do I have to deal with country gentry too?”
“He… asked for the lady.”
“Helena?”
Eugene raised his eyebrows, frowning.
After a moment of thought, he decided to confront the visitor directly. It might be someone with news about Helena’s whereabouts.
Eugene went down to the backyard and scanned the surroundings. Feeling his presence, the visitor, who had been standing with his back turned, slowly approached.
He was not exactly what Eugene expected. Though seemingly an ordinary passerby, he stood out.
A plain shirt, a simple vest, and a long gray robe. His clothes were neat but not expensive, which made him feel even more out of place.
It seemed he was deliberately downplaying his appearance to hide his true self. Yet, there was a restrained authority in his calm demeanor.
Eugene could not hide his irritation.
“Who are you, to be looking for my wife?”
The word “wife” caused the man’s expression to flicker briefly.
A subtle tremor, like a crack in smooth ice, yet Eugene saw it clearly.
Helena had only claimed to be his wife, so why that reaction? Though it was their first meeting, the man had a sharp edge to him.
The flicker vanished as quickly as it came. He met Eugene’s gaze with his usual composed face.
“I owe her a great debt from childhood and must repay it. I sincerely wish to meet her, even briefly.”
Eugene felt more than discomfort—he felt twisted inside. Bitter in his mouth.
Not only did he face a side of Helena he had never known, but also a time spent with someone he didn’t know.
Hadn’t she shared every childhood moment with him? A faint sense of betrayal surfaced.
Suppressing his rising anger, he replied coldly:
“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible for now. Helen is not here. She has left.”
“Left? Where?”
“I don’t think I have an obligation to tell you that.”
“…I see.”
The man withdrew more easily than expected. He seemed to realize that no matter how much he pleaded, he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted.
From reading Eugene’s expression, to his own bearing despite shabby clothing, he realized Helena must have connections here.
During the brief encounter, Eugene only grew more displeased.
“Do you want me to leave word when Helena returns?”
“Thank you, but I’ll go find her myself.”
“Alone?”
Yes, this made Eugene even more annoyed.
“You met as children, didn’t you? How could you not recognize her?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll know her at a glance. She’s that kind of person—impossible to forget.”
Despite Eugene’s irritation, the man spoke as if it were an established fact, unwavering.
Eugene finally understood the source of his frustration.
There existed a gap between them—similar, yet impossible to bridge. They stood on opposite ends, both watching Helena.
Helena. Helena Evergale.
Where are you looking now? Did you truly leave to forget me?
You… me?
Lost in thought, Eugene noticed the man briefly bow his head. As if about to turn away, he glanced over the Evergale estate once more and said:
“Perhaps your wife left because it was right for her to do so.”
With that, he disappeared as swiftly as he had appeared. Just like his entrance, his exit was seamless.
The empty space felt dark, filled only with clouds.
Eugene, left alone, was consumed by an undefined sense of defeat. All the time he had ignored gnawed at him.
Even after the man left, Eugene stood in the same spot for a long while, as if Helena might call his name and appear at any moment.
