16. A Fragile Relationship
2023.11.16
“The wind is cold. You should be careful until you’ve fully recovered.”
This time, his tone was somewhat softened.
Helena slowly brought her body back from leaning against the window. She had never intended otherwise.
As he said, it was only the second floor, and she had only wanted to smell the air from outside.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling annoyed. She turned to face the man with a cold gaze.
“Why should I listen to a stranger?”
“……”
“……”
Thirty seconds passed in silence.
He acted as if he had something to say, then suddenly reached out. Helena flinched involuntarily.
His hand stopped mid-air. Slightly, but enough to make his face twist in discomfort.
His knuckled hand clenched and unclenched right beside her face. After repeating the motion a few times, he finally extended his arm fully and closed the window.
Helena followed the sequence with her eyes. The bitter expression on his face was washed away with the sigh he let out.
“Even though we’re strangers, wouldn’t it be proper to add a note that I’m the one who saved your life?”
As the window closed, a support appeared behind her back. Helena leaned against the sill with her arms crossed.
“I have nothing to give you, no matter what you want.”
“I can give it.”
Helena tilted her head back. To see him properly from this distance required considerable effort.
He seemed slightly taller than Eugene. She had rarely seen anyone as tall as Eugene, and looking up at him now strained her neck a little more.
Not liking even this height, she furrowed her brow and asked quietly,
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
Right now, she had nothing. Yet if there was anything she could give, this was all that came to mind.
She only asked, and admitted to herself that it wasn’t a bad question.
For the first time, she saw him flustered. His violet pupils contracted and dilated in an instant.
But the bitter expression returned, covering everything.
“I told you what I want.”
Ian’s hand followed her arm up to her shoulder. Maintaining a delicate distance, he hooked the edge of the loose fabric with his fingertips.
“I want you to live.”
The sleeve that had slipped below her shoulder returned to its place.
Perhaps it was because her underwear had been revealed; the skin he touched stung, and Helena looked away.
Silence returned between them.
After a moment, Helena slowly rose from the windowsill. Ian took a step back in response.
Now she didn’t have to crane her neck anymore. Instead, she gave a small nod up and down.
“…What are you doing?”
“Expressing gratitude. On second thought, I suppose I could give at least this much.”
Helena walked past him, glancing around. She saw a long leather strap under the nightstand—her bag, now nearly empty.
She strode over and grabbed it, as if snatching it away.
“Don’t be too disappointed; I’m only showing gratitude in proportion. I hope you also learn not to meddle in others’ business next time.”
“I didn’t meddle.”
He approached with a firm expression. Helena, sensing an endless argument ahead, stubbornly turned her head away.
The door was locked, and she needed to escape.
Unfortunately, the only way out seemed to be the window.
At worst, she might break more than just her limbs. Helena passed him again to reach the window.
Ian seized the moment and grabbed her. The grip on her wrist was firm but not painful.
Helena raised her eyes.
“You’re not letting go, are you?”
“You know me well.”
“Then why can’t you understand? I told you, don’t meddle in others’ business.”
“I’m only meddling because it’s you, Helena.”
“Don’t act like you know everything about me. How do you even—”
Rumble.
“……”
“……”
Impossible. Why now, of all times?
Helena’s face flushed. Her argument collapsed under a primal instinct that didn’t care about the situation.
It had been a long time since she felt embarrassed. She thought she had grown immune to most insults. She was hardly moved by the jeers of passing statues.
But this single, simple sound drew out forgotten feelings.
Overwhelmed by that emotion, Helena couldn’t bring herself to look up. Though her wrist was released, she didn’t move.
Ian, walking beside her, casually offered,
“Shall we get something to eat?”
“…I’m not hungry.”
“You’re still not good at lying, are you?”
He was smiling. Helena could tell without looking at his face.
She sensed the faint amusement in his voice. Even if he wasn’t laughing out loud, there was a light smile.
She stubbornly kept silent, looking down to avoid him. Then something wrapped around her body.
“…?”
A light, warm blue cape made of mouse fur. Soon his hands slid over her neck as well.
“It’s cold outside.”
Ian tied the cape’s knot naturally. Helena slowly lifted her head.
Meeting her eyes, Ian gave a small, teasing smile and asked,
“Luckily, I have both the money to meddle in your stomach and the time to share a meal. May I?”
Helena pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose. Such an annoying man. He attached himself abruptly and refused to leave.
Resigned, she gestured toward the door.
“The doorknob is twisted. How are we supposed to go out?”
“Well… we could just break it.”
In a few steps, he reached the door, grabbed the knob, and with the sound of splintering wood, the entire door fell off its hinges.
“Simple enough.”
For the first time, he opened a door in this way, stepping aside like a ridiculous gentleman.
Helena, wearing the clothes he bought, draped in the cape he tied, and carrying the bag he retrieved, stepped forward.
Without realizing it, she carried traces of him in everything.
“Unlike a relationship that can’t be simply broken.”
She emphasized ‘relationship’ as she exited, glaring at Ian as if she meant him.
He placed the tattered door aside and walked beside her, matching her pace.
“Not simple, but it will break eventually.”
At his words, a man with black hair flashed across Helena’s mind.
Another who had clung persistently, someone she couldn’t let go.
Time left its mark, unfortunately. Helena shook her head to dispel the memory.
Ian, walking beside her, paused. Seeing her curious gaze, he said with an unreadable expression,
“I’d rather we not break it right now.”
Then he descended the stairs. His finely textured silver hair became tousled in his grasp.
Helena followed him to the dining hall, forcing herself not to think any further.
Is it you now, or that other person?
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding.
Clear chimes rang ten times from the clock tower in the square.
Ten o’clock in the morning. Late for breakfast, early for lunch.
Helena and Ian sat across from each other, each with a plate of food.
Perhaps due to the busy district, the shop had quite a few patrons despite the awkward time. The bustling noise hung in the air like dust.
‘What am I even doing?’
Everything felt awkward. The noise, her mechanical mashing of potatoes, the man calmly eating opposite her.
She glanced at him cautiously. His long, slender fingers moved over his plate.
Looking closely, faint scars appeared on his hand with each cut.
‘And his forearms too… I wonder if there are more elsewhere.’
She wondered what kind of work left him covered in scars, but didn’t ask—not wanting to seem interested.
“Your gaze is intense. You might burn the potatoes.”
Exactly what she feared.
Yet his eyes were fixed on the plate. Helena pressed down on her fork harder, replying,
“I’d love to, if I could.”
“I like burnt potatoes too. Feel free to keep staring.”
“I’m not interested.”
He chuckled softly, a pleasant sound like Eugene’s.
Helena reluctantly put a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth. Chew, swallow, chew, swallow. Still, the awkward tension lingered.
The table was narrow, and she couldn’t avoid seeing Ian unless her head was buried in her plate.
She rolled roasted beans with her fork and glanced again. His knife looked different in size from hers, but his precise movements disguised the difference.
Where did he learn such etiquette?
Judging by his clothes, he seemed like a well-off commoner, but that impression was hard to accept as true.
He was far from ordinary. She could tell at a glance.
Even his voice, walk, and subtle gestures carried rough yet refined dignity. When he wasn’t smiling, his presence felt imposing.
He sometimes spoke with the sharp articulation common among the upper class, similar to Eugene. But instead of sounding cold, it came across warm, surprising Helena.
‘I thought that pronunciation had to sound harsh.’
“Then why do you keep looking, if you’re not interested?”
