4. The Moon That Brought the Day
2023.11.04
They say a person who knows their death is near wants to eat and do everything they’ve ever desired, no matter how vast. But Helena had only one wish.
To have a small, modest house of her own in Preterita.
In that village were the graves of Basil and her mother—a hometown both tender and dear to her. Being near the cemetery, building a warm log house wouldn’t cost too much.
Once the house was finished, she imagined placing a soft, cozy armchair by the window and a table covered with white lace.
She would fill the shelves with honey and various jams. Ah, she almost forgot the clattering wooden dishes. Maybe she would store fruit in glass bowls rather than wooden baskets.
Though the grocery store and butcher in the village offered only limited options, their kindness would make her cooking worthwhile. And like a caretaker of the graves, she would visit every day, pulling weeds and catching insects.
She wanted this—leaving behind the title of duchess. Instead of budgeting for her mother-in-law’s banquet, she calculated what her own house would need.
And so, Helena set out on the road toward Hyer, where the Owen mansion stood. Before going to Preterita, she intended to collect the remaining belongings of Basil and her mother from the Owen estate, and also gather the funds to build her house.
“Here, young lady! Fresh goods came in this morning! Take a look!”
“If you don’t buy now, you’ll miss out!”
“Just a little discount, please!”
The journey was chaotic. The bustling commotion was nothing like the quiet of Evergale.
Helena wandered wherever her feet took her, picking clothes wherever her eyes landed. Stopping at a shop window, she saw her reflection—small and awkward, like a country mouse.
Suddenly, she realized that living freely was far harder than she had imagined. For someone who had always measured every trivial action for others, even the smallest gestures carried weight.
A baby elephant tied to a stake cannot pull it out even after growing into an adult. For Helena, regression was the same: not a new opportunity for insight, but shackles that gradually crushed her through repeated failures.
She could not be the protagonist of a story who shakes everything off and rises.
Ordinary to the extreme, she could only ever be a minor character who had to keep striving. The cost of abandoning the stage was high.
“Now that person is gone. I left. I walked away.”
On the thirteenth repetition of this thought, Helena untied the thin ribbon she habitually used to bind her hair. No need for neatness anymore.
People cannot change suddenly. Even after leaving Eugene, she remained Helena—small and insignificant, perhaps even more so.
So she repeated to herself like a mantra:
“I’m not lonely. I’m not empty.”
Even this was calculated, and the taste left a slight bitterness. She remembered her mother-in-law’s sharp rebukes at her very nature and bit her lip.
⌜A man doesn’t water a withered flower, Helena. Even if he cannot spark a fire, looking at it like dry wood is hard enough.⌟
At the time, she could barely swallow the tears, but there was no falsity to hide.
She hadn’t even had the courage to hide it, which is why she had come this far.
And so Helena deliberately did things a refined duchess would never do:
Laughing at street performers, eating food sold on stalls, and even resting in the corner of a shabby stable.
All the time she had worried before leaving the mansion seemed meaningless.
Truly meaningless.
“I’m not lonely.”
She enjoyed it. She had to.
She repeated it habitually.
Whether she had truly lived or merely endured, she lost track, and time passed faster than she expected.
The carriage bounced in rhythm with the clattering hooves. Helena’s hand went to her empty stomach. Even though her hand should have been warm, it felt cold.
The floor revealed itself too easily, a cruel reminder of her hunger for everything.
Perhaps she should have brought some money from the mansion. But she quickly discarded the thought.
“No matter how desperate, I cannot leave any traces behind. If I cannot deceive myself, I cannot leave even this place.”
She never expected her life to turn rainbow-bright the moment she left. If she had, she would never have dashed out blindly.
She just wanted to finally deny the nest that had become her own skin. Even if it meant ripping it away painfully, she had to.
“And even in the midst of it… I…”
Ignoring her gnawing hunger, she turned her head. The dark green foliage brushed past the edge of her vision.
The journey, switching carriages along the way, had taken five full days. Though a little uneasy, she would soon meet her family.
“They are not exactly warm-hearted, though.”
Her only ally, her mother, had died giving birth to her younger sibling. Her father had brought a new woman into the house before the soil covering her mother had even dried.
Her brother, who arrived with the stepmother, had harassed her until she left for Evergale.
They had married her off like livestock, blinded by money. Still…
“They are family, after all.”
“Huh?”
The driver, seated beside her, seemed to have heard her muttering and asked. Wrinkles framed his wide, round eyes.
By the time she switched carriages for the last leg, half a day had passed. Maintaining silence all the way, the driver seemed surprised when she first spoke. Helena shook her head at his curiosity, forcing a bitter smile.
“Nothing important.”
He didn’t ask further. Helena was pleased—she wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
The clattering carriage approached its destination. As the horses slowed, the driver spoke lightly.
“Why did you come all this way? It seems quite far.”
“My family lives here.”
“It’s been a while. How many years?”
“Since I attended my sibling’s funeral. I haven’t visited since.”
“I see. Well, it must be nice to see them again after so long.”
Helena pressed her lips together, saying nothing. The conversation could go no further.
She leaned back against the hard wooden seat, closing her eyes. She remained that way until the carriage reached its destination and she paid her fare.
As she slowly entered the village, the driver waved.
“Have a pleasant time with your family, young lady!”
He was kind, but Helena could not accept the encouragement. A bitter smile stayed on her lips.
“Pleasant time with family…”
Could any sentence feel more alien? Every word felt like thorns in her ears.
She remained still until the sound of hooves on the gravel faded. Everything around her felt strange.
The wind tousled her hair,
The underbrush brushed her ankles,
The harsh sunlight,
The weight of her luggage in her hands.
Every object, every sensation pressed down on her. The earth itself seemed ready to swallow her.
The mansion’s doctor had advised her to take deep breaths and clear her mind when such thoughts came—but it was easier said than done.
Helena stood rooted, like a tree, and taking the first step was exhausting.
“It’s okay. Nothing to be nervous about.”
How she wished she could cut off emotions as easily as useless hair.
Despite her resolution not to expect anything, a small part of her still longed for affection. It made her feel faintly sad.
The capital of the Western Lihalt Empire, Thebe.
In the emperor’s palace, a room remained lit even in the dead of night.
A deeper-than-usual voice filled the spacious room.
“Dion. I believe my duties are complete.”
The man named stiffened instinctively. Looking at the speaker, one of the eyebrows was slightly raised. A familiar sense of foreboding crept over him.
Whenever the emperor looked at him that way, something always went wrong requiring him to scramble for blood pressure medication.
‘What on earth is he planning now? He hasn’t slept and has been working nonstop…’
Dion imagined straightening the eyebrow and replied.
“You have handled all essential schedules, but you must not neglect preparations for next month’s trade and exchange with the Usten Kingdom. Especially since the crown prince will attend—your utmost attention is required—.”
“I already did so.”
“The recommendation letters for imperial appointments—”
“I’ve seen them. I organized and submitted them to the administration. You can check later.”
“And the newly revised tax law—”
“Excuse me.”
The emperor cut him off with a nod before he could finish.
Dion followed his gaze. A mountain of documents blocked his view entirely.
Normally, Dion would have checked thoroughly for omissions or approval issues. But he did not.
His ruler may have been eccentric, but sloppy work was never his style. In fact, it often exhausted Dion more than it did the emperor.
His limited scope of concern made serving a competent ruler a headache.
Remembering something, Dion brought up a new matter.
“Perhaps you could narrow down candidates for the empress… You’ve said you would handle it each time, but two years have passed without progress. Before it’s too late, you must ignite competition and secure the national marriage.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“No matter how long you delay, now… Excuse me, did you just say—?”
“Yes, it’s a good idea.”
Dion’s half-closed eyes snapped open. Approval came unusually easily.
He had seen ministers’ urgings ignored for years. Even submitting a candidate list had been rejected as if it were poisoned.
Dion eagerly muttered, “Then I’ll prepare the list immediately…!”
“I need to travel a bit.”
Dion’s face, bright moments ago, went dark. His sense of foreboding never failed.
‘Better to die than endure this.’
Inwardly frustrated, he could only bite his lips. The man before him was a figure whose status forbade displaying disloyalty.
The ruler of the Lihalt Empire. The moon that brought the day.
Ian Kamel Axen Fevenheim.
