12. Long-Standing Obsession
2023.11.12
Five days ago.
It was just like leaving the Owen family mansion—without achieving anything significant.
Though he held the title of husband, Eugene Evergale kept uttering words that only made that position seem dubious.
Still, Ian let out a sigh of relief. It was a bearable anger compared to the day he went to Hyer.
Recalling those five days, Ian pressed his deeply furrowed brows together.
⌜Looking for Helena? Tch, what a nuisance first thing in the morning. She’s already dead, that girl.⌟
It was unbelievable. An event that should never have happened.
After dealing a few blows to those ugly faces that dared to speak lies, Ian left the Owen mansion.
And then he spotted Dion in a corner of the roadside.
“Confess the truth immediately! Why were you trying to steal our master’s words?”
“I-I’m sorry! I had no idea it belonged to you…!”
“Hah! What kind of nonsense excuse is that?”
Ian was harshly interrogating a shabby-looking man. Dion stepped in and held him back.
“Did I ever give such an order? Since when does hiding mean grabbing someone by the collar?”
“M-Master…”
Dion’s protest died in his throat as Ian appeared. Just a moment of distraction, and his master had turned up with a frightful appearance. Blood still fresh smeared his hands, forearms under his rolled sleeves, and even his cheeks.
“What on earth have you done now…!”
Dion sighed in an exaggerated voice, then quickly took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over to Ian.
Ian casually wiped his face and replied calmly:
“They dared to say Helena was dead. I just returned the favor a little.”
“Then why not just talk back, why resort to fists?”
“You know I prefer physical conversations.”
Dion exhaled, trying to calm himself. Sensing the scolding might get longer, Ian gestured for him to step aside.
“So, what’s all this commotion about?”
The man who had even quarreled over money with Dion now stood there dumbfounded.
Dion’s face turned even redder as he muttered:
“Don’t blame me. This one dared to try stealing our master’s words.”
At Dion’s explanation, the man quickly raised his hands.
“Oh, no! Master! If I had known it belonged to you, I wouldn’t have touched it! I just saw it in front of the mansion and thought it belonged to them…”
“Wait. So you didn’t mean you wouldn’t steal it, but that if it belonged to the Owens, you would have?”
“Y-Yes, that’s right!”
“…What.”
Why so bold? Is this place unusually permissive about theft?
Dion tilted his head, and Ian, sharing the same skepticism, asked the man first.
At first, the man hesitated upon seeing Ian’s appearance, unsure whether to speak. But when Dion tossed him a coin, he quickly opened his mouth.
The situation was roughly as follows: He had been a stablemaster for the Owen viscount family for a long time, but had not been paid for months and had been dismissed.
So, noticing a fine horse while inspecting for anything of value, he tried to take it quickly.
He grimaced as he recounted his grievance.
“I know stealing isn’t right, but these people deserved it. Sending a daughter off to marry into the Duke’s house, and yet living in booze and gambling, so much so that the servants couldn’t even receive their wages. Truly, a house beyond reason—.”
“What did you just say?”
“Uh? That all the servants hadn’t been paid because they squandered their wealth on gambling…”
“No, even earlier.”
“Ah, that the daughter of the Owen Viscount was practically sold off to the Duke’s family…?”
Married into the Duke’s family? Ian quickly asked again.
“So, is Helena Owen’s life really confirmed?”
“Yes? Well, I haven’t seen her personally, but judging from how those nobles still laze about, she must be fine. With her married to Evergale, they’ve probably been secure for over five years.”
“…Married.”
Ian let out a bitter laugh.
It was mountain after mountain, but it was enough that she was alive. No matter how many obstacles, as long as Helena was at the end, he would overcome them.
After exchanging information, Ian quickly mounted his horse.
“Sell this mansion. Drive those people out. While we’re at it, take charge of the knights too.”
Dion’s jaw dropped at the command, as if Ian were merely giving a morning menu. The sudden heavy workload was almost unbelievable.
He grabbed Ian’s horse reins frantically.
“You don’t mean you’re going all the way to Evergale? She’s not just any noble; she married into the Duke’s family and is living well! What can we possibly do by interfering?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“That’s obsession, Master!”
Instead of replying, Ian pushed Dion’s hands off the reins with his foot.
Dion yelped dramatically as he let go. It wasn’t just theatrics—Ian had pressed hard on a sensitive spot without realizing.
Maybe Dion was right; it was obsession.
An obsession that the person who saved his childhood must be happy. An obsession that he must see her with his own eyes.
‘Still, I want her to know I exist.’
Before Dion could block him, Ian urged the horse forward. Dust clouds rose behind him as he rode.
And so they arrived at Evergale.
Even here, they couldn’t find her, only facing someone arrogant who refused to lower his head—but it didn’t matter. Hope surged in Ian like never before.
Helena’s current status was finally within reach. It was more certain than ever that she was alive. If so, they could meet again.
He would find the woman whose husband and family had no idea where she was.
“Round and round… at this rate, we’ll circle the entire continent.”
The Evergale Duke’s residence had seemed like the final destination.
But even that turned out to be in vain. Dion sighed heavily as he gave the horse water. Both horse and rider were exhausted from the unexpectedly long journey.
Just then, the person who had caused this fatigue appeared in the distance. Ian, having left the Duke’s residence, stopped by a nearby shop to inspect something.
Dion hurriedly leaned close and whispered:
“Your Majesty. We’re finally returning to our cozy, warm homeland, right?”
“……”
“Your Majesty? Why no answer to a loyal subject’s anxious question? The person who saved us has been married for over five years, we don’t even know where they are, and there’s no other way to find them. Returning seems the only option—.”
“We go to Putoir.”
“Eh?”
Dion’s eyes went wide. Even the knights nearby, cleaning their swords, looked up.
Was this the end of their quest—seeking the benefactor, first love in disguise? Not yet.
The knights who stood up and stared at Dion expectantly had given him a commanding gaze as if something were entrusted to him. Dion jutted his chin.
“Well, why?”
“You know.”
Even elite knights, trained to face crises without flinching, had limits. Some tasks needed the right person.
So Dion, though timid, stepped forward courageously.
“Your… Majesty? Putoir is the port city near Preterita where we started, isn’t it? You really mean to go back there?”
“This is truly the last. If she’s not there, we can only plant someone at the Duke’s residence and wait.”
Plant someone?
“Think you’re suitable? If you want, I can disguise you as a servant to go in.”
Again, His Majesty spoke nonsense—but Dion had to take it sweetly.
He quickly collected his rebellious glance and mumbled:
“I’m happiest when I’m right by Your Majesty’s side.”
His lips trembled as he desperately flattered.
What kind of woman, what beauty, what charm could make someone so composed in battle hang on like this?
Clutching curiosity barely contained, Dion mounted his horse. Whether to stop him or follow him, he had to ride.
“Please, come with me!”
His master, already gone, left no choice.
The salty sea breeze ruffled their hair. A few seagull tracks on the sand were washed away by white foamy waves.
Helena turned her head. A sign swayed creakily between the rocks. The letters marking the start of the village were worn and hard to read.
Bwooo-.
A thick ship horn echoed widely.
Passing by the cemetery, she requested a ride with a nearby cart heading to the port town.
The cart left to sell harvested crops, and she deliberately chose a quiet spot along the coast to sit.
At Preterita’s cemetery, Helena spent several days shedding the last of her tears. In the face of perfect misfortune, she felt no will to act.
By her mother’s and Basil’s graves, she shivered with loneliness, barely breathing.
Living itself was this painful. Even if her breath stopped, it wouldn’t seem worse.
Besides, she would die in a few years anyway. No one would scold her for visiting them now.
‘Mom, Basil. I miss you. I’ll be there soon.’
