ERTHMB Chapter 112

The Chosen Hell

“You… were you someone from the Spencer family?”

“Hmm.”

When told to ask first, Gelda paused for a moment. She tapped the desk with her index finger, then suddenly stood up from her seat.

“Rather than a hundred words, it would be better to see something directly.”

Gelda strode into Flam’s room attached to the smithy. Her hands rummaging here and there were as natural as if it were her own room.

“He must have stored it somewhere around here…”

Gelda opened every closed drawer she came across, finally stopping in front of a box the size of a document. It was a wooden chest reinforced with fire rat leather that wouldn’t burn even in flames.

The wooden chest, which seemed particularly carefully finished with attention to detail, had a lock on it. Gelda crouched down and tried various numbers before holding her head.

“He put some thought into this… Still, such a simple guy wouldn’t use numbers he couldn’t remember himself.”

Rubbing her chin and muttering “surely not,” Gelda turned the numbers and got it right. As soon as she turned the last number, there was a click as it engaged.

“Really that day?”

With a stunned expression, Gelda opened the wooden chest. Helena glanced at the password and casually asked.

“What’s special about February 17th?”

“Just… well, the day I grabbed that decrepit old man’s hair and dragged him up.”

Gelda took out a rolled parchment from the wooden chest and stood up. It was a document tied with red string that looked quite high quality at first glance.

Returning to her seat, Gelda untied the string and unrolled the parchment. When placed on the desk, the bold black letters at the very top first caught Helena’s attention.

[Will]

Helena automatically looked up with a puzzled gaze. Gelda turned the parchment toward Helena so she could read it easily. While Helena skimmed through its contents, Gelda spoke.

“Well, as you heard last time, that pig bastard is my older brother.”

“Garta Spencer?”

“Yeah. That bastard would never acknowledge me as a Spencer even if he died tomorrow. I’m illegitimate, you see.”

“But here it says the title is to be passed to Gelda Spencer…”

“…That’s right. The old man, that is, the previous baron, valued ability over bloodline. He probably knew from the moment he held me as a baby that I was far superior to that pig.”

Gelda rolled up the parchment again and wrapped it with the string while casually remarking.

“The old man admired the late Grand Duke Evergale.”

At this unexpected content, Helena’s body stiffened for an instant. Fortunately, Gelda didn’t notice as she was busy organizing the will. Helena hid her agitation and mentioned that name everyone knew.

“…Aslan Evergale?”

“That’s right. That man was a fierce meritocrat. The old man wanted to follow exactly in the footsteps of a man who would remain a legend.”

“For what purpose?”

“Aslan himself was the reason. You know how great figures are like that. Just trying to catch up to them makes you feel like you’ve become a great person yourself. The simple fact of admiring and wanting to be like them creates the illusion that you’re placed on the same level as them. However, most people make the mistake of overlooking that too strong a light can blind the eyes. The old man was no exception.”

The late Grand Duke Evergale, Aslan Kaumshvarts von Evergale, who was also Eugene’s father.

Helena didn’t know much about him. He had passed away before he could become her father-in-law. She had met Eugene right after that.

Helena only perceived him as the incomparable hero he was known to be in the world, and as a rather strict father to his son.

Of course, she had been curious from time to time when she saw Aslan’s portrait hanging in the corridor of the Grand Bleu mansion. But she had never asked Eugene about it.

‘Because whenever I asked about him, Eugene always acted like someone being strangled.’

Heroes are naturally born to walk paths far off the normal trajectory. That’s why they earned the title of hero in the first place. So the memories they left with those around them must have been extraordinary as well.

Whether those were fond memories or the kind that should be buried deep and far away, Helena couldn’t know. But she didn’t dare dig deeper because she disliked seeing Eugene’s pained expression. Or perhaps… maybe…

‘Did I want to pretend not to know?’

If so, perhaps she and he had lived hiding too many traps. The kind of traps that gnaw and bite until only a bare body frame barely manages to stand.

Helena had embraced Eugene without even knowing what had devoured him, and ended up pouring water into a bottomless jar. Even after wringing out her entire being to pour into him, Eugene remained unfilled.

How arrogant a judgment that had been.

Should she blame her own foolishness that she only now realized, or be grateful for the good fortune of realizing it now? Or should she resent Eugene, who was only now beginning to read the room and opportunities she had left until her voice was hoarse?

While Helena’s thoughts wandered far away for a moment, Gelda brought her back to reality.

“Anyway, I accomplished all the tasks given to me to satisfy the old man, and eventually became a thorn in the side of Garta and the rest of the Spencers. I didn’t know when I was young, back then. That once bloodline disappears, everything I had built up was nothing more than a sand castle.”

Gelda let out a bitter laugh as she tilted a water bottle into a transparent cup instead of coffee or alcohol.

“Blood is thicker than water. More authoritative than all the things I had gritted my teeth to achieve. I learned that on the night I received the title inheritance, when an assassin’s blade came to my throat.”

Perhaps recalling that time, Gelda’s lips twisted bitterly. She absently rubbed the back of her neck as she continued.

“That day, the assassin Garta hired to kill me died by my hand. But there was no guarantee I could do the same the next day. I had to suspect everything – the food I ate, the water I drank, every single person I conversed with. That was the kind of hell Garta gave me as a gift. And he promised to give that living hell not just to me alone, but to everyone around me as well.”

For Gelda, it was an old event that remained as a faint scar. But Helena looked at her with painful eyes, as if she herself were falling into such hell right now.

Gelda felt as if she was only now experiencing the pain she hadn’t even been able to recognize at the time due to the chaos.

Gelda pressed Helena’s furrowed brow smooth and let out a small laugh.

“So I left the castle immediately. After wandering here and there for ten years, I returned to Dairon. After all, Dairon was my hometown. That’s how longing is, you know. When it suddenly comes to mind, it makes you pant with thirst until it’s resolved.”

“…Gelda.”

“But when I came back, this place was still hell. The townspeople’s heads were being torn off several times a day because of magical beasts, but Garta was leaving them to live or die as he pleased, saying it was too expensive to deal with. So I defiantly established a guild. Even though that pig bastard disgusts me, I wanted to protect my hometown. Fortunately, Garta being a greedy pig was a great help. At first he tried every trick to drive me out, but since we eliminated magical beasts without any expenditure on his part, he left Partren alone.”

Having finished her long explanation, Gelda looked refreshed. Seeing her, Helena also tried to relax her expression. Since the person involved felt that way, a third party couldn’t interfere. However, she couldn’t help but argue.

“No matter how many enemies you have, you’re the legitimate heir and clear successor of Spencer. That position is your position. It’s yours. How can you give it up when it’s right in front of you? Aren’t you frustrated?”

“Well. Should I be frustrated?”

“How… how is that possible?”

At Helena’s incredulous question, Gelda was silent for a moment before speaking.

“…I’m someone who has to protect people, but that position only puts everything in danger.”

“Still—”

“Helen.”

Gelda stood up as if there would be no more conversation about this matter. Helena raised her head following the height she had risen to. Gelda tapped Helena’s head with the rolled parchment and instructed.

“It’s the hell I chose. Willingly, and I can handle it sufficiently.”

****

The pale yellow sunlight that had caught the cold wind penetrated the streets. The small bell tower in the square spread twelve chimes through the air. It was noon, when the shadows of the buildings lined up in rows stayed in place.

Eugene was strolling through the quiet downtown area, recalling the words of the informant who had visited early in the morning.

[The guild captain of Partren is an illegitimate child of Spencer… Then Gelda Spencer would be a natural enemy to Garta Spencer. However, Partren maintains a symbiotic relationship outwardly, positioning itself as Dairon’s guardian.]

Spencer had no choice but to tolerate Partren, and Partren clearly had hidden justification to act presumptuously toward Spencer.

‘It’s information that might be worth using, but I should observe a bit more.’

He needed to know what kind of place Helena was entrusting herself to. Only then could he find appropriate leverage to appease her or ask for forgiveness.

Eugene was aware of his situation. Right now, he needed a gap somehow. A gap to squeeze into Helena’s firmly closed side.

Even a single thread would be good, even a moment would be fine. He simply wanted it like a learned instinct. He craved it like an ingrained habit.

So when Eugene caught sight of rose petal-like hair in a corner of his distant vision, he immediately ran over and blindly grabbed hold of it.

“Helena.”

Helena looked back with surprised eyes, following her caught arm. But as soon as she realized that the one who had turned her around was Eugene, she spoke in a subdued voice.

“…What is it.”

Eugene felt many emotions roughly mixed in just those two words. The thickest among them was the intention to convey only business if he had any, and then let her go.

He felt it in the eyes looking up at him, in the light sigh she exhaled, in the body that reflexively pulled back. He felt it in everything about Helena.

However, Eugene couldn’t let her go. He wanted Helena to be by his side. He wanted to see her face instead of her small back.

He had to drag out time somehow. Since it was something he had never done before, he didn’t know how to be clever about it. Eugene just blurted out whatever his tongue moved to say.

“The weather… the weather is really nice.”

“…It is.”

“The street isn’t bad either.”

“Is that so.”

Brief and bland responses continued. Helena only let his barely managed words pass by like a passing wind. The conversation couldn’t continue further.

Not knowing with what heart I’m looking at you right now.

Eugene’s grip weakened slightly. Helena slowly moved her eyes, which had been fixed on the background behind him, to Eugene’s face.

The eyes that had always awakened reality with their vivid golden color were only dreamily hazy and pale. Helena swallowed a groan inwardly.

A corner of her slightly quickened heart ached. To ignore him, Helena lowered her eyes and let out a long breath.

“How unusual. You walking these streets alone.”

“I was curious about what makes you want to stay here.”

“…Why aren’t your eyes getting better.”

Then there was a small laughing sound from above her head.

“How unusual. You even showing interest first.”

At the tone that seemed to mock her earlier words, Helena looked up again. But contrary to his words, Eugene’s upturned lips were honest. He looked strangely pleased.

“Let’s talk for a moment.”