ERTHMB Chapter 115

If Only You Couldn’t Forget Me

“What else could there be besides shaking the cage?”

Garta had long since realized that the bird Eugene spoke of wasn’t actually a winged animal.

Whether it was a lover, a hidden child, or an enemy, he couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. He just needed to faithfully fulfill his role.

Cornering someone, threatening them, and ultimately forcing them to flee—this was what Garta did best.

For the first time since entering the guest room, Garta wore a triumphant smile.

“If that’s the case, you’ve found the right person. Thanks to extensive experience, I’m quite confident in this sort of work.”

The air that had been constricting his entire body relaxed considerably. Only now could Garta properly look at Eugene. The feeling was quite strange.

His insides seemed to boil while simultaneously sinking under an irresistible sense of intimidation. He found himself curious about what kind of expression he wore while looking at Eugene.

[Aslan Evergale is a god.]

Garta knew all too well the gaze of reverence.

The late lord had admired, revered, and wished to emulate Aslan Evergale. He had wanted even his children to do the same, and damn it all, Gelda had faithfully lived up to his expectations.

In the end, the senile old man had even left a will stating he would place Gelda Spencer, a lowborn bastard, in the position of heir.

Regardless of bloodline, she was the legitimate lord. For Garta to become the master of Spencer, he had to make Gelda give up.

Of course, she was a shameless leech who didn’t know her place, befitting her lowborn blood. It was difficult to draw even a sneer from that wicked face with ordinary tricks.

So Garta turned his attention to her surroundings. He spread poison and set traps in every human relationship Gelda possessed.

Only then did the world take his side. No matter how much of a wretch failed to know their place, they at least had enough brains to assess the situation. After all, that was tantamount to survival instinct.

However, the shameless woman had the audacity to return brazenly even after causing her childhood friend to lose an arm and an eye.

[Do you still have more to lose, Gelda? Or are you trying to play some trick by showing a trump card now?]

The night Garta had sent an assassin to Gelda’s bedchamber, the will he thought he had burned returned intact years later along with Gelda.

Now they were in a standoff, maintaining a delicate balance of mutual interests. One wrong move and he might face the backlash himself. This was why Garta couldn’t rashly eliminate Partren.

“How confident are you?”

Eugene’s question instantly scattered Garta’s contemplation. Garta quickly blinked to focus Eugene’s image in his sight. It was an image that seemed to be an exact copy of Aslan Evergale.

And Aslan was a figure who stood in a place incomparable to the late lord.

Only Eugene Evergale had survived the overwhelming pressure that man emanated. The man he had only heard about in stories, the man who had overcome his shadows unlike himself, stood before his eyes.

Did such people develop that kind of undeniable, intimidating quality? After swallowing several times with his thick neck, Garta finally managed to open his vocal cords.

“In what manner would you like the cage shaken?”

“Tie up Partren a bit.”

Garta’s jaw immediately dropped. He couldn’t immediately digest what word had just popped out of that arrogant person’s mouth.

“The Partren Guild… you mean?”

“You would know best.”

Eugene’s gaze was clear and resolute. Gradually understanding, Garta had to concentrate hard to suppress the corners of his mouth that wanted to curl up. Eugene seemed to emanate an aura for a moment.

‘So the Grand Duke is interested in the place where that cuckoo resides.’

Partren was like a cage to him as well. A very troublesome cage where an eyesore of a bird lived.

There was no greater joy than when mutual interests aligned. Along with the earlier conversation, Garta understood Eugene’s command.

Restrict all of Partren’s range of activities, but avoid casualties.

He could finally put into action what he had only been waiting to do for so long. Having completed his calculations in his mind in an instant, Garta rubbed his hands together and sought assurance from Eugene.

“I will do my utmost to fulfill Your Grace’s request. However, everything that happens from now on will be seen as having occurred at Your Grace’s instigation, so if problems arise later, you must stand behind me. Spencer is willing to belong to Evergale as a vassal. I earnestly beg that you protect this position I currently occupy.”

Even a will thicker than blood would be nothing more than a scrap of paper before immense power. Even if that weren’t the case, Eugene Evergale was certainly capable of making it so.

Seeing Garta’s drooping mouth corners, Eugene agreed and lit his cigarette again. It was practically an order to leave now that business was concluded.

Following Walter’s guidance, Garta departed, and Eugene sent several more wisps of pale smoke into the air. The white smoke spread like drawing paper, and Helena’s face was painted over it.

It was an afterimage that remained vivid despite having no form. As if to disturb it, Eugene let out a long sigh. The hazy smoke became distorted.

‘I wish… I wish you couldn’t forget me either.’

Eugene stubbed his cigarette into the whiskey glass to extinguish it and rubbed his brow. Following the dying embers, he briefly sank into plain melancholy. But he no longer fell into despair and self-reproach.

He found someone to blame instead. He blamed the woman who had made him think of only such crude methods.

It was all a result she had brought upon herself. His head, filled with thoughts of her, had no room left to fit any other rational thinking.

So Eugene thought again.

‘I hope… I hope you’re regretting it too.’

****

Helena had skipped meals and fallen asleep as if fleeing, only to wake up around sunset. She wanted to sleep more until the day changed, but cruelly, sleep wouldn’t come.

The disturbing dreams made it difficult as well. Having no choice, Helena put on her outer garment and headed for the forest. It was the lakeside where Ian had comforted her during that night when she had struggled with nightmares.

The dream she had just had wasn’t as terrible in content as that time. But perhaps thanks to the warm memories that remained from then, it was perfectly suited as a place to calm her unsettled heart.

Since then, Helena had developed a habit of visiting this place whenever she felt disturbed.

What was disturbing her now wasn’t Eugene, but someone who had appeared in her dream.

She had expected to keep thinking about Eugene due to the day’s events, but rather than being depressing, he was forgotten quite easily. The boy in her dream had made it so.

[In my country, this means making a vow. I don’t lie. And once I make a promise, I definitely keep it.]

[Oh, right. I like you, Helen.]

The young boy’s voice had come into reality to confess even after the dream ended.

Looking at the crimson waves rippling across the lake, Helena thought of a man whose voice resembled the boy’s. Though she couldn’t remember the boy’s face,

it must have been him. If there was anyone who would have said such things to her childhood self, it could only be Kamel.

And the only one who would appear as if telling her not just to keep him in her thoughts but to see him directly was him as well.

“Helena.”

The bushes rustled behind her, and Ian emerged without even trying to hide his presence. Instead of being startled, Helena waited until he stood beside her before asking.

“…How long have you been following me?”

“…Probably since you left the path in District 2?”

So from the beginning then. It also meant he had waited until she left her room.

“Was there something urgent enough to follow right behind me?”

“Rather than something to say, there was something I wanted to show you.”

Only then did Helena turn her head toward Ian. This time Ian spoke while looking only at the red lake.

“You said you didn’t know why you repeat regression, what you want to leave in this world. So I said I would find evidence, remember?”

“So you’re saying you’ve brought evidence now?”

Instead of answering, Ian gestured toward the back. Following that direction, Helena turned around.

He hadn’t come alone.

Someone was there in the darkness cast by the forest’s tree shadows.

The hidden figure hesitantly stepped forward. It was one of the knights Ian had introduced to Helena before. The knight who always wore a thick robe pulled down until only the tip of his chin was visible—Samte.

He was dressed as usual today as well. His mountain-like bulk was completely hidden under the long robe.

Helena wondered whether she should greet him, and if she did, whether he would receive it when he couldn’t see ahead. Then like a baby bird opening its mouth looking for its mother, she turned back to Ian.

“What… does this mean?”

“Samte is the evidence.”

“…?”

“The footprint you left in this world is Samte.”

Despite Helena’s gaze showing she didn’t understand at all, Ian continued to answer that way. Then he gently stroked Helena’s head as if comforting something pitiful, smiled softly, and stepped back.

“I think it would be better to hear it directly.”

Ian began walking along the lake’s edge, leaving Helena and Samte alone together. Heavy silence filled the space he had vacated.

Helena and Samte just stared at each other blankly. Actually, all Helena could see was his tightly pressed lips in a straight line, so she couldn’t be sure if he was looking at her either.

Helena hesitated, then just sat down on the lakeside ground. Then the man who had maintained mountain-like silence finally showed small signs of movement.

Helena picked up pebbles and threw them into the lake to make a good spot for him to sit beside her. With a plop sound, she looked at Samte, and he finally approached slowly and sat down.

He then removed the hood attached to his robe with even slower movements. Helena could finally see Samte’s face. She unconsciously drew in a short breath.

Black hair and black eyes, dark skin with a grayish tint. Samte was a foreigner.

Perhaps noticing her surprised expression despite her efforts to hide it, Samte bashfully lowered his head. She could see his large fists clutching his collar trembling slightly.

Helena deflated her body that had swelled with surprise and comforted Samte.

“It must not have been an easy decision… Thank you for having the courage.”

Encouraged by that quiet encouragement, Samte struggled to part his lips.

“Compared to the courage the young lady once gave me, it’s only shameful.”

“…But this is the first time I’m having a conversation with you.”

“That’s… the same for me as well. This is the first time we’re meeting here.”

Helena asked while casting her gaze toward Ian’s distant figure, now nearing the opposite side of the lake.

“Then what connection could we possibly have? Do you know what Kamel said earlier?”