“First of all, I would like to apologize.”

It hadn’t been a mere minute since they exchanged their names when Helena lowered her head into a bow. Her hair cascaded forward in unison. If she hadn’t stopped at the right moment, her temple would have smashed the plate and flattened the rice. 

That sudden gesture took Pierrot by surprise. He believed he hadn’t done anything particularly that deserved an apology, not to mention from an individual who, instead, had given more than he could have needed. 

 “Miss…, Helena, please raise your head,” he said, still not comfortable calling her name immediately. “There’s nothing you should apologize for. In fact, it should have been me who–”

“You might not notice it yet, Sir Pierrot, but I did something while you were unconscious.”

Helena’s interruption resounded throughout the entire room. Pierrot did so, lips were shut as tight as possible. In his mind, however, he whispered countless screams.

W-what did she mean by that?!

As much as he didn’t want to let assumptions run wild, Helena’s words were too open for interpretation. The spoon still got stuck between his index finger and thumb. Not knowing what emotion he should feel, whether fear or unease, he waited for her to open her mouth again. 

Luckily for him, it didn’t take long for Helena to continue with the pretty much needed explanation he was waiting for. 

“When I found you unconscious, I didn’t think much and immediately brought you here. At that time, your right arm had already turned necrotic. The flesh had blackened, and nothing that I tried could save it,” she said. “I had no other choice but to cut it.”

Helena still hung her head low, eyes cast down where she could hide her wavering gaze. Hair strands beside her face acted like a golden veil, swaying ever so slightly every time her body trembled. Beneath the table, she clasped her hands together with nails digging into her skin as if it were her way to atone. 

“Emmm, is that all?”

Different from her expectations, Pierrot’s answer was nonchalant to say the least, so when he asked her to raise her head once more, she complied. Right now, both of her eyes were looking straight at the man who, compared to her, put on a more worried expression than her. 

“Finally, you’re looking at me.”

That sight made Pierrot sigh as he released the tension that had petrified his body in that single breath. His expression mellowed, and without the need to tense his body again, the hunger found its way back to his belly.
“If that’s what you’re worrying about, please don’t,” Pierrot said, his voice gentle and calming. “In fact, I’m the one who should apologize. It must have been unpleasant to cut my arm, let alone when it was so disgusting and rotting, I imagine. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.”

The next thing Helena knew, Pierrot had lowered his head. Similar to her, it was the best way to apologize that he could think of, though he himself didn’t know the perfect posture for such an apology. Still, his intention was clear, and the message he tried to make got sent across with this gesture. 

“Why are you the one asking for forgiveness?” Helena, however, was still taken aback by that response. Her eyes widened, the feeling of distress and guilt reflected on the surface. “A-aren’t you mad at me?”

In reality, since moments ago–hours and even more–she had rehearsed this scenario in her mind many times. She would have accepted any reaction as well, including unspeakable treatment that the man in front of her could have done. Be it screaming at her or punching her–even as much as grovelling on the floor or dirt–she had resolved to take it all; mouth shut and closed, not letting a single sound slip through. After all, she had taken his arm. 

“If I had stopped the bleeding first, you might–no, you would still have had your right arm. Instead, I panicked and went with the worst option available–not even asking for your permission first. Your burn marks too, if I could have just healed them faster….It all happened because of my carelessness, so it’s okay if you’re mad at me–if you want to get mad at me. I-I’m not asking for your forgiveness, nor I–”

“M-Miss Helena, please calm down!”

The entire table rattled when Pierrot leant forward, his arm stretched towards Helena where his grip landed on her wrist. Throughout her speech, Helena was hurting her own hand, though it seemed she was unaware of the pain she inflicted on herself. To Pierrot’s naked eyes, it was all visible, and as soon as he noticed it, his body moved on its own faster than his head could think. He almost tumbled to the left as well due to the lack of control over his balance.

He was fortunate enough not to fall and hit the ground. Not only would it hurt, with his fingers still on Helena’s wrist, but he would have also brought her down. A recipe for disaster, truly. 

Another sigh of relief escaped his mouth.

“You don’t need to blame yourself. I’m not really bothered by it, so you shouldn’t be as well.”

Listening to those words, Helena curled her lips, as they still quivered a little. “You’re kind, Sir Pierrot. But as much as I appreciate your consolation, please don’t pity me. I truly intend to make up for my mistakes, so–”

  “I’m being truthful, though!” Pierrot’s grip on her wrist got tighter, making her flinch in response. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to. I’m just….How to say it? Aren’t you misunderstanding this?”

Pierrot loosened his grip after feeling no retaliation from Helena. Her mouth also stayed closed while her gaze remained steady on him–his cue to continue. 

“Um, I’m not mad, really. There’s nothing to forgive, too. If you didn’t bring me here, I suppose I would have become a mere corpse now, so I’m grateful to you.”

“....What I did cost you a lot, and there’s no way I can restore it.”

“And you did it to save my life.”

His words, although sounded like a mere attempt to console Helena, truly came from the bottom of his heart. 

“Are you sure you don’t hate me? Not wanting to hate me?”

“I have no reason to.” Pierrot raised what was left of his right arm. Despite that, he could still muster a grin. “Besides, we just met, Miss Helena.”

Helena paused for a moment, head slowly leaning forward until it made yet another bow. Her hair once again hid her expression and eyes. At first, Pierrot was afraid he had said something that hurt her, but that worry soon dissipated when Helena raised his head, her expression looking clearer and brighter than before. 

“Understood. Sorry…, and thank you. Thank you for not hating me,” she said, bringing relief to his heart. That wasn’t the end of her sentence, however. “Also, please just call me Helena.”

Pierrot didn’t expect that kind of response, though it wasn’t entirely an unpleasant thing to hear.

“Then likewise, please call me Pierrot.”