18. A Quality Rogue
2023.11.18
Stepping out of the shop, the midday sun poured down, and the streets, freshly washed by rain, felt even more lively.
Helena walked along the neatly laid stone path, folding her fingers one by one.
“So, your name is Camel, you run a small trading company and lead a wandering life, you have a younger sister, and when you were a child…”
“Roughly thirteen years, three months, and seventeen days ago,” Ian interjected abruptly. Helena narrowed her eyes at him.
“…Anyway, you came to repay a favor you once received from me?”
“Actually, even if you don’t remember, it was you who first asked to be found. So at least look upon this pitiful man who has faithfully kept his promise.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then just feel it. That I’m beside you.”
“Everything is so easy for you, isn’t it?”
“They say if something looks easy, it’s because you’re good at it. I suppose that means I’m approaching you well.”
His flawless responses came one after another. Helena let out an exasperated sigh.
“In that case, you’ve already found me, the meal I just had repaid the favor, and I’d like to think there’s nothing more to entangle us.”
“That can’t be. The version of me at my lowest point cared for you, so you’re worthy of receiving the current me, at my peak.”
Ian kicked away a stone in front of Helena and walked on, speaking as he did.
Although he smiled faintly, he wasn’t looking at her, yet Helena continued to watch him warily.
“You don’t think I’d believe every word you say, do you? How many truths are even in your words? I can’t let a stalker follow me based on a few statements I can’t even tell are real.”
“Well, the sooner you remember, the better it will be for you.”
“Whether I remember or not, would you want to accompany someone who showed you their lowest point?”
“….”
The conversation abruptly stopped. Ian’s gaze flickered for a moment as he looked out over the shopping street.
Helena, sensing something strange, scanned ahead but saw nothing unusual.
“What on earth are you looking at…?”
Just as Helena tried to follow his gaze, Ian grabbed her hand first.
He blocked her view with his large frame, as if to shield her, and pulled her along.
They reached an alley between empty shops. Ian moved without hesitation.
As soon as they entered the far corner, he pressed Helena against the wall and leaned down.
“If you can’t allow me to be close for that reason… then should you see my bottom, too?”
His breath was slightly ragged from walking quickly. His shadow fell over Helena’s face. Though it was midday, the cornered alley was dark. The shade made his clean silver hair look gray.
The rain from yesterday hadn’t dried, leaving moisture in the stone and soil. Perhaps that’s why his words seemed to stick unusually close to her ears.
“I don’t even know what you’re trying to do.”
Helena looked up coldly. Ian tilted his head slightly, unconcerned, and moved closer—so close it seemed their lips might touch.
Close. Too close.
His long eyelashes cast shadows beneath his eyes. If a passerby saw them, they might mistake it for a passionate love scene.
“May I?”
Ian asked slowly, his gaze meeting hers.
His tone, completely mismatched with the situation or words, was dry—like the sound of wind brushing through dry grass, in contrast to the damp, mixed breaths around them.
Helena’s face hardened with irritation at the dissonance.
“…Hypocrite. You said the only thing you wanted was for me to live.”
“I never said it was the only thing. That’s why I’m showing my lowest point now.”
“What lowest point? Your patience?”
Ian showed a flicker of surprise, as if someone had seen through a mask he’d been hiding behind. Then he silently exhaled through his nose, nodding in affirmation.
“You know how to read people.”
This time, his expression was somewhere between a smile and self-mockery. Helena’s irritation deepened. His words always seemed to carry multiple layers of meaning in a single sentence.
No matter how intently she stared, she couldn’t read him—it was infuriating.
He could read her so easily, yet she couldn’t read him at all. That made it worse.
Helena turned her head, as if refusing to exist if he couldn’t see her.
“It’s a good thing you’re not an actor. If you’re going to perform, at least make it believable.”
“I’ll try next time.”
“…So what is it, then?”
“It’s really nothing. Just some low-quality ruffians passing through.”
Helena shifted her gaze, peering past Ian’s shoulder at the alley beyond.
A man who looked on the verge of collapse and a few armored knights with swords were leaving.
They were all large, enough to justify a first impression, but not the kind of people you’d blindly call “ruffians.”
Which ruffian apologizes to passersby after bumping into them?
By any definition, they were far from “low-quality.”
Helena turned her gaze back to Ian with a scowl.
“So who are you in front of me, then?”
He straightened from his bent posture.
“Hmm… let’s call him a quality ruffian.”
“Don’t joke, please.”
Helena stepped away from the wall. As she tried to leave the alley, Ian spoke again.
“Actually, I have something for you. Check carefully—maybe you’ve lost something.”
Helena looked at him for a moment, then started rummaging through her bag. Her initially leisurely movements grew quicker.
Finally, she looked up, startled, as a small drawing was held out before her eyes.
“Oh… how did you…?”
The thick paper, pieced together like a puzzle, depicted the two of them. Though patched roughly, it couldn’t erase the siblings’ bright smiles.
⌜You’re leaving today, right? If you miss me, look at this. Congratulations on your wedding, sister.⌟
A cough-tinged voice echoed in her ears.
Helena took the drawing with trembling hands and looked at Ian. He shrugged casually.
“Fishing you out took a bit of work. Luckily, it was painted in oil, so it didn’t smudge. Though I’m not sure how he dried it, so there’s a slight curve. And the crack…”
“I know. It was already torn.”
Helena stared at the drawing in a daze for a long while, as if she’d forgotten how to speak.
Ian waited silently. Eventually, Helena muttered softly:
“…Thank you.”
Her fingers trembled as they touched the worn corners of the paper.
The unforgettable man’s voice pierced Helena’s consciousness like a lingering trace of energy.
.
.
.
It was a day with heavy thunder.
“Anything left to report?”
Helena froze before the long sliver of light through the door.
Gordon, the butler, hesitated before speaking, as if summoned reluctantly by Eugene:
“Um… the Owens again requested payment. The amount is absurd for just medicine, but Madam willingly sent the money. She couldn’t tell Your Grace, so she seems to have sold some jewelry to handle it herself.”
Eugene exhaled deeply. The distorted sound carried even outside the door.
The silence suggested he had stopped talking, perhaps running a hand through his hair or pressing his palm to his forehead, thinking: still a foolish woman.
Footsteps drew closer, and Helena hurriedly hid in the shadows.
Soon Gordon emerged, and the door closed tightly, leaving no light. His neatly kept white hair gradually disappeared from view.
Flashes of lightning streaked occasionally, illuminating the dark corridor in stark bursts. Helena worried the ongoing storms might irritate Eugene even more.
Finally, after the third flash, Helena suppressed her pounding chest and knocked lightly on the office door, her sound barely audible over the rain.
“…Come in.”
She knew only one person in this mansion would knock on their office door like this.
The tone Eugene used to summon her was distinct from the way he called Gordon, Lord Argyle, or the knights. Helena understood the nuance.
Carefully opening the door, she entered, and Eugene lowered his hand from his forehead and looked up at her. He seemed prepared yet asked her reason for coming.
“What is it, Helena?”
“Well… it’s nothing really…”
Until the last time she returned, the storm hadn’t been this severe. She had never come regarding Basil during this season, and despite practicing countless times in her mind, she hesitated and finally spoke.
“I was wondering if I could visit my in-laws for a few days. I’m worried about Basil because of the storm. If it’s like this at the Evergale estate…”
“Is there still something to deliver?”
Eugene suddenly stood. Helena faltered and stopped speaking.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick bundle of letters, tossing them onto the desk one by one.
“These are things the Owens sent me separately in the meantime.”
Thud, thud, thud. The dry sound fell rhythmically, tightening Helena’s chest each time.
“You sent money only a week ago because your brother’s condition worsened. How long must I keep up with this?”
Normally, she would have stepped back apologetically. But Eugene’s words were impossible to ignore.
“Basil is sick again? How… how bad? I must go now…!”
“Helena! Get a grip! How long will you keep being used!”
Finally, Eugene slammed the desk and grabbed Helena’s arms. Red marks appeared on her thin wrists, but she didn’t stop.
“I don’t care how much I’m used. I don’t mind being used all my life. As long as Basil lives, that’s enough. I have to go…!”
Her slightly swollen lips trembled, speaking as if under a spell.
Eugene looked at her as if he could not understand.
Then his gaze fell on her hands, holding Basil’s drawing.
He blurted out:
“You say ‘as long as Basil lives.’ What about me?”
