9. Wake up
The woman was beautiful.
Bjorn calmly faced the woman looking at him.
Comparing them to Gladys Hartford...well, they were of a completely different lineage, but they were both striking beauties, so he couldn't help but accept it. Perhaps that's why he was drawn into the woman's detestable performance. Of course, her body, as pretty as her face, played a significant role.
Bjorn had no objection to that fact. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't offended.
“Are you sure nothing is really going on between you?”
Leonid, who had been observing the woman closely, asked crookedly.
"Well."
Bjorn gave a sly reply, his gaze still fixed on the woman.
“If Your Highness wishes, I can make it for you.”
Bjorn slowly turned his head to face Leonid, and a graceful smile appeared on his lips, completely different from the words he was saying.
“What kind do you want?”
“This crazy guy.”
Leonid, who let out a hollow laugh, decided to abandon his suspicions at this point. Bjorn Dneister was undoubtedly a madman in many ways, but at least he was genuinely mad.
"Why don't you go and ask her to dance? Surely she wouldn't refuse His Highness the Crown Prince?"
Bjorn accepted a glass of champagne from the servant who had quietly approached him and nodded toward the woman.
“Why me?”
“Didn’t you like her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Leonid frowned with a serious expression.
“I was also worried that the woman you liked might be involved with your brother.”
“Not at all. I’m not interested in women like that.”
“You are firm.”
Bjorn shrugged his shoulders slightly and emptied his glass in one gulp.
The woman had become the star of the season's high society in an instant, but this kind of fame was always met with resentment. A family that had been swindled so badly that their fortunes were in jeopardy decided to sell their daughter. A daughter willingly went along with this scheme, abandoning her dignity and pride. She was never going to gain a good reputation. She probably had no intention of gaining such a thing in the first place.
Leonid soon left, summoned by the royal elders. His younger brother, who faithfully carried out any duties assigned to him, was also perfectly fulfilling his role as Crown Prince.
Leonid, who had taken a few steps and stopped, gave him a look that seemed entirely unwelcome, perhaps suggesting they go together. Bjorn waved vaguely and turned away without a second thought. And just as luck would have it, Victoria Meyer was right there.
Bjorn gave a conscious smile and a brief nod. Countess Meyer, too, remained calm and polite. Despite her unpleasant mood, he readily acknowledged the woman's passion and tenacity.
The social world is Victoria Myer's card table.
A place where you can enjoy games that add a thrill to your free time. Judging by her meticulous strategy and unwavering commitment to victory, it's clear she has a natural competitive spirit. Her daring to challenge herself by increasing the difficulty level, not getting caught up in trivial games, is also evident.
Bjorn put down his empty glass and turned around with a new glass of champagne.
Had Victoria Meyer been born a man, her reputation on the card game circuit might not have been what it is today. In any case, her altruistic gamble of finding a good match for another man's daughter made her a much more wholesome hobby than the card players in the social clubs.
As Bjorn approached the group beckoning him, he unconsciously turned his head to follow the gaze that fell on him. This time, it was the woman, Erna Hardy.
The woman, hesitantly getting up, fell back to her seat in shock when her eyes met his. The sight of her blushing cheeks and clutching her lace shawl was truly comical.
If it weren't for the name Hardy and the presence of Victoria Meyer, he might have been fooled by that woman. He never would have guessed she'd break out in a cold sweat and put on a shaky performance.
The woman, who had been glancing at him with trembling, anxious eyes, suddenly lowered her head and began muttering something.
What on earth is that trick?
Bjorn left the scene, offering his condolences to the unknown idiot who had become the scapegoat for Victoria Meyer's actions.
"Bjorn! Is she really a woman you don't know? Are we not even related?"
The crowd that came up and surrounded him asked urgently.
“Say no. Please.”
Peter's expression was quite serious. Bjorn sighed lightly, leaned back in his chair, and drank the rest of his drink.
“Wake up, you idiot.”
The lips that gave friendly advice glowed red.
“I have to get you married.”
Philipp Dneister, who had been deeply troubled, suddenly spoke.
“No matter how much I think about it, I think that’s the best option. Don’t you think so?”
He looked at the Queen seated across the table, as if seeking her consent. Isabelle Dneister, setting down her teacup, clicked her tongue slightly and frowned. While the kingdom enjoyed peace and prosperity, Philip III's greatest worry was his troublesome eldest son, Bjorn.
“Yes. If you give him that order, Bjorn will follow along very obediently.”
“We have to make him follow our will somehow.”
“You still don’t know Your Majesty’s son?”
Her light sigh permeated the soft spring night air. The garden terrace, where the royal couple enjoyed tea time together, was filled with the fragrance of blooming flowers.
"I'd already casually asked him if he had any girls in mind, but he was adamant. He asked if one divorce wasn't enough, and it was so creepy."
“This is really...”
His gray eyes, like his son's, grew darker and deeper.
Hearing Gladys's name everywhere was unsettling, but Bjorn, the person directly involved, remained remarkably calm, making it even more unbelievable. The mere thought of the absurd possibility of her and Bjorn being reunited sent a shiver down his spine. If that were to happen, he was prepared to go to war with Lars.
“Don’t worry, Philipp. There’s absolutely no way he’ll ever reunite with Gladys.”
Isabel Dneister, who had been quietly watching her husband, began to speak.
"You know very well what Bjorn was thinking, what he gave up when he made that decision."
“I know. Of course I know.”
The King's gaze deepened as he slowly nodded.
'I will step down as Crown Prince. And I will divorce.'
On the night the child was born, Bjorn came to the palace and declared calmly.
"I have already made up my mind. There will be no change of mind, Your Majesty."
Bjorn's face, as he added those words calmly, held no emotion. The calm chill of the Crown Prince, who was only twenty-two years old, overwhelmed him.
Ultimately, they accepted their son's will, knowing full well that it was the best way to rule. However, their hearts were inevitably heavy. He was not only the king of Letzen, but also the father of Bjorn.
"But honey, no matter how much I think about it, there's no solution. Let's try to get him married, somehow."
After much deliberation, Philipp Dneister's conclusion was back to square one.
“I’m talking about a marriage where the child decides for himself, rather than one where we arrange it for him like before.”
“The problem is that Bjorn doesn’t want that.”
"I have to make him want it. But is that girl really not related to Bjorn?"
He looked at his wife with a mixture of anticipation and concern.
“Leonid checked several times, but there was no sign of anything like that.”
“Hmm. Yes. I see.”
“Did you happen to like the young lady of the Hardy family?”
"That's not true, but if she can move Bjorn's heart, I'm open to any girl, Isabelle. Assuming she's a better girl than Gladys, of course."
There was a faint hint of unconcealed anger in his voice as he mentioned Gladys's name.
"Come to think of it, it won't be long before we move to the summer palace. Let's pay more attention to him this summer. I hope we can see Bjorn start a proper family before the year ends."
“Um... yes.”
Although it seemed like a dream with little hope of realization, Isabelle Dnister readily nodded. She couldn't deny this level of hope to her husband, who worried about their eldest son every day.
“Let’s hope that happens, please.”
Erna, Erna, Erna.
These days, he feels like he hears that name everywhere he goes. It's especially so in places where there are many men.
"It's been a few days since I sent the flowers. Why haven't I received a reply? Did the maid drop the card?"
Bjorn slowly turned his head, following the name he heard again. The group, having lost all their money, was sitting in a corner of the card room, chatting passionately about women.
"Why don't you ask her directly? She might not show up at social gatherings, but I guess she hangs around here sometimes."
"No matter how hard you try, there's always a gap. The vicious maid is standing there like a hellhound!"
The grumbling caused laughter to erupt from all over.
A few more cheesy jokes followed, and the long-drawn-out game ended. Bjorn Dneister was the winner again.
“I suppose you are planning to take the money from the gambling tables and add it to the kingdom’s treasury, Your Highness.”
"Dirty world. Even the goddess of fortune lights up a man's face."
Sighs erupted from those who had lost the victory they had seized, but Bjorn left the card room without any particular reaction. The morning sunlight streaming through the window was dazzling.
Crossing the club, Bjorn headed toward the terrace facing the square. The crowd that followed soon sat down at the table.
“How about I send some flowers to Hardy's mansion too?”
Peter, who was fiddling with the glass the waiter had left behind, began to speak quietly.
Erna again.
Bjorn rested his chin on the table, clutching the cold glass of whiskey the waiter had left behind. The clear sound of ice clinking against glass echoed through the list of names, which was starting to grow tiresome.
"Are you sure? If you bite that woman, you'll end up with Viscount Hardy's debt as well."
“That’s... well, as long as it’s something you can handle?”
“Oh. I guess we’ll soon hear the sad news that Count Bergen has banished his son.”
Peter opened his mouth in anger, but couldn't come up with any rebuttal.
Everyone in this high society knew what Viscount Hardy was trying to lure his daughter into. And that such a marriage would never be accepted by a powerful and prestigious family.
If you're lucky, you might marry a wealthy nobleman. Or perhaps even a wealthy man without a title.
Even Countess Meyer would have found it difficult to achieve more than that. Considering the Hardy family's current situation, even that would be a miraculous achievement.
“Oh, over there! Erna Hardy! Right?”
Peter, who had been wearing a disturbed expression, suddenly stood up from his seat and shouted.
Bjorn turned his head, his hand loosely gripping his glass. Two women were walking slowly from the other side of Tara Avenue, early in the morning.
A tall maid who walks like a bouncing rubber ball. And a tiny woman covered in lace follows her softly.
She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and parasol, making it impossible to recognize her face, but there was no doubt that she was Erna. Erna Hardy was the only woman who would stroll down the busy street looking like she'd stepped out of a painting from a century ago.
The woman was beautiful.
Bjorn calmly faced the woman looking at him.
Comparing them to Gladys Hartford...well, they were of a completely different lineage, but they were both striking beauties, so he couldn't help but accept it. Perhaps that's why he was drawn into the woman's detestable performance. Of course, her body, as pretty as her face, played a significant role.
Bjorn had no objection to that fact. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't offended.
“Are you sure nothing is really going on between you?”
Leonid, who had been observing the woman closely, asked crookedly.
"Well."
Bjorn gave a sly reply, his gaze still fixed on the woman.
“If Your Highness wishes, I can make it for you.”
Bjorn slowly turned his head to face Leonid, and a graceful smile appeared on his lips, completely different from the words he was saying.
“What kind do you want?”
“This crazy guy.”
Leonid, who let out a hollow laugh, decided to abandon his suspicions at this point. Bjorn Dneister was undoubtedly a madman in many ways, but at least he was genuinely mad.
"Why don't you go and ask her to dance? Surely she wouldn't refuse His Highness the Crown Prince?"
Bjorn accepted a glass of champagne from the servant who had quietly approached him and nodded toward the woman.
“Why me?”
“Didn’t you like her?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Leonid frowned with a serious expression.
“I was also worried that the woman you liked might be involved with your brother.”
“Not at all. I’m not interested in women like that.”
“You are firm.”
Bjorn shrugged his shoulders slightly and emptied his glass in one gulp.
The woman had become the star of the season's high society in an instant, but this kind of fame was always met with resentment. A family that had been swindled so badly that their fortunes were in jeopardy decided to sell their daughter. A daughter willingly went along with this scheme, abandoning her dignity and pride. She was never going to gain a good reputation. She probably had no intention of gaining such a thing in the first place.
Leonid soon left, summoned by the royal elders. His younger brother, who faithfully carried out any duties assigned to him, was also perfectly fulfilling his role as Crown Prince.
Leonid, who had taken a few steps and stopped, gave him a look that seemed entirely unwelcome, perhaps suggesting they go together. Bjorn waved vaguely and turned away without a second thought. And just as luck would have it, Victoria Meyer was right there.
Bjorn gave a conscious smile and a brief nod. Countess Meyer, too, remained calm and polite. Despite her unpleasant mood, he readily acknowledged the woman's passion and tenacity.
The social world is Victoria Myer's card table.
A place where you can enjoy games that add a thrill to your free time. Judging by her meticulous strategy and unwavering commitment to victory, it's clear she has a natural competitive spirit. Her daring to challenge herself by increasing the difficulty level, not getting caught up in trivial games, is also evident.
Bjorn put down his empty glass and turned around with a new glass of champagne.
Had Victoria Meyer been born a man, her reputation on the card game circuit might not have been what it is today. In any case, her altruistic gamble of finding a good match for another man's daughter made her a much more wholesome hobby than the card players in the social clubs.
As Bjorn approached the group beckoning him, he unconsciously turned his head to follow the gaze that fell on him. This time, it was the woman, Erna Hardy.
The woman, hesitantly getting up, fell back to her seat in shock when her eyes met his. The sight of her blushing cheeks and clutching her lace shawl was truly comical.
If it weren't for the name Hardy and the presence of Victoria Meyer, he might have been fooled by that woman. He never would have guessed she'd break out in a cold sweat and put on a shaky performance.
The woman, who had been glancing at him with trembling, anxious eyes, suddenly lowered her head and began muttering something.
What on earth is that trick?
Bjorn left the scene, offering his condolences to the unknown idiot who had become the scapegoat for Victoria Meyer's actions.
"Bjorn! Is she really a woman you don't know? Are we not even related?"
The crowd that came up and surrounded him asked urgently.
“Say no. Please.”
Peter's expression was quite serious. Bjorn sighed lightly, leaned back in his chair, and drank the rest of his drink.
“Wake up, you idiot.”
The lips that gave friendly advice glowed red.
***
“I have to get you married.”
Philipp Dneister, who had been deeply troubled, suddenly spoke.
“No matter how much I think about it, I think that’s the best option. Don’t you think so?”
He looked at the Queen seated across the table, as if seeking her consent. Isabelle Dneister, setting down her teacup, clicked her tongue slightly and frowned. While the kingdom enjoyed peace and prosperity, Philip III's greatest worry was his troublesome eldest son, Bjorn.
“Yes. If you give him that order, Bjorn will follow along very obediently.”
“We have to make him follow our will somehow.”
“You still don’t know Your Majesty’s son?”
Her light sigh permeated the soft spring night air. The garden terrace, where the royal couple enjoyed tea time together, was filled with the fragrance of blooming flowers.
"I'd already casually asked him if he had any girls in mind, but he was adamant. He asked if one divorce wasn't enough, and it was so creepy."
“This is really...”
His gray eyes, like his son's, grew darker and deeper.
Hearing Gladys's name everywhere was unsettling, but Bjorn, the person directly involved, remained remarkably calm, making it even more unbelievable. The mere thought of the absurd possibility of her and Bjorn being reunited sent a shiver down his spine. If that were to happen, he was prepared to go to war with Lars.
“Don’t worry, Philipp. There’s absolutely no way he’ll ever reunite with Gladys.”
Isabel Dneister, who had been quietly watching her husband, began to speak.
"You know very well what Bjorn was thinking, what he gave up when he made that decision."
“I know. Of course I know.”
The King's gaze deepened as he slowly nodded.
'I will step down as Crown Prince. And I will divorce.'
On the night the child was born, Bjorn came to the palace and declared calmly.
"I have already made up my mind. There will be no change of mind, Your Majesty."
Bjorn's face, as he added those words calmly, held no emotion. The calm chill of the Crown Prince, who was only twenty-two years old, overwhelmed him.
Ultimately, they accepted their son's will, knowing full well that it was the best way to rule. However, their hearts were inevitably heavy. He was not only the king of Letzen, but also the father of Bjorn.
"But honey, no matter how much I think about it, there's no solution. Let's try to get him married, somehow."
After much deliberation, Philipp Dneister's conclusion was back to square one.
“I’m talking about a marriage where the child decides for himself, rather than one where we arrange it for him like before.”
“The problem is that Bjorn doesn’t want that.”
"I have to make him want it. But is that girl really not related to Bjorn?"
He looked at his wife with a mixture of anticipation and concern.
“Leonid checked several times, but there was no sign of anything like that.”
“Hmm. Yes. I see.”
“Did you happen to like the young lady of the Hardy family?”
"That's not true, but if she can move Bjorn's heart, I'm open to any girl, Isabelle. Assuming she's a better girl than Gladys, of course."
There was a faint hint of unconcealed anger in his voice as he mentioned Gladys's name.
"Come to think of it, it won't be long before we move to the summer palace. Let's pay more attention to him this summer. I hope we can see Bjorn start a proper family before the year ends."
“Um... yes.”
Although it seemed like a dream with little hope of realization, Isabelle Dnister readily nodded. She couldn't deny this level of hope to her husband, who worried about their eldest son every day.
“Let’s hope that happens, please.”
***
Erna, Erna, Erna.
These days, he feels like he hears that name everywhere he goes. It's especially so in places where there are many men.
"It's been a few days since I sent the flowers. Why haven't I received a reply? Did the maid drop the card?"
Bjorn slowly turned his head, following the name he heard again. The group, having lost all their money, was sitting in a corner of the card room, chatting passionately about women.
"Why don't you ask her directly? She might not show up at social gatherings, but I guess she hangs around here sometimes."
"No matter how hard you try, there's always a gap. The vicious maid is standing there like a hellhound!"
The grumbling caused laughter to erupt from all over.
A few more cheesy jokes followed, and the long-drawn-out game ended. Bjorn Dneister was the winner again.
“I suppose you are planning to take the money from the gambling tables and add it to the kingdom’s treasury, Your Highness.”
"Dirty world. Even the goddess of fortune lights up a man's face."
Sighs erupted from those who had lost the victory they had seized, but Bjorn left the card room without any particular reaction. The morning sunlight streaming through the window was dazzling.
Crossing the club, Bjorn headed toward the terrace facing the square. The crowd that followed soon sat down at the table.
“How about I send some flowers to Hardy's mansion too?”
Peter, who was fiddling with the glass the waiter had left behind, began to speak quietly.
Erna again.
Bjorn rested his chin on the table, clutching the cold glass of whiskey the waiter had left behind. The clear sound of ice clinking against glass echoed through the list of names, which was starting to grow tiresome.
"Are you sure? If you bite that woman, you'll end up with Viscount Hardy's debt as well."
“That’s... well, as long as it’s something you can handle?”
“Oh. I guess we’ll soon hear the sad news that Count Bergen has banished his son.”
Peter opened his mouth in anger, but couldn't come up with any rebuttal.
Everyone in this high society knew what Viscount Hardy was trying to lure his daughter into. And that such a marriage would never be accepted by a powerful and prestigious family.
If you're lucky, you might marry a wealthy nobleman. Or perhaps even a wealthy man without a title.
Even Countess Meyer would have found it difficult to achieve more than that. Considering the Hardy family's current situation, even that would be a miraculous achievement.
“Oh, over there! Erna Hardy! Right?”
Peter, who had been wearing a disturbed expression, suddenly stood up from his seat and shouted.
Bjorn turned his head, his hand loosely gripping his glass. Two women were walking slowly from the other side of Tara Avenue, early in the morning.
A tall maid who walks like a bouncing rubber ball. And a tiny woman covered in lace follows her softly.
She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and parasol, making it impossible to recognize her face, but there was no doubt that she was Erna. Erna Hardy was the only woman who would stroll down the busy street looking like she'd stepped out of a painting from a century ago.
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