1. Poisonous mushrooms on a spring day
Erna Hardy was a good child.
She had grown up to be a good lady, so it was time for her to become a good wife.
To summarize the lengthy letter, it was this: a reply that was quite different from what she had expected, specifically offering her the chance to be a good wife.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Erna's action of putting down the letter she had been staring at for a long time was as decisive as a soliloquy blurted out without thinking.
“This is absolutely ridiculous!”
Even after thinking about it again, the conclusion remained the same. Erna abruptly rose from her seat and walked briskly to the window. The afternoon was dazzling, the spring sunlight pouring down, making the mood even more gloomy.
Erna opened the creaking window, climbed onto the windowsill, and hugged her knees. The Baden family mansion, perched high on the ground, commanded a panoramic view of the village. Her gaze, wandering lazily through the orchards, rippling with apple blossoms, the stream, and the gently sloping hills covered in yellow primroses, finally rested on a chair, a lost owner, in one corner of the garden.
The world has no interest in the misfortune of one man.
That obvious truth struck Erna anew. Even after losing her beloved family and facing the threat of being driven from her home, the world, brimming with the warmth of spring, was mercilessly beautiful. If her grandfather heard this foolish grumbling, he'd just laugh. "So, what a relief," she added, her voice a bit sarcastically and carefree.
“Miss! Miss Erna!”
Erna, lost in thought, was awakened by the voice of her housekeeper, Madame Greve, coming from across the hallway. It seemed it was already lunchtime.
"Yes! Let’s go! I’ll be down soon!”
Erna answered loudly and hurriedly climbed down from the windowsill. She hid the absurd letter in a drawer so it wouldn't be noticed, and straightened her disheveled clothes.
It's okay.
Erna muttered as if reciting an order all the way to the first-floor restaurant, practically running.
It's okay, everything will be okay.
“Erna, have you ever met a lawyer?”
Baroness Baden, who had been idly chatting about the weather and the new patchwork quilt she'd made, finally got to the main topic at the end of the meal. She tried to maintain a composed demeanor, but her eyes were tinged with an unmistakable impatience.
“No, Grandma. Not yet.”
Erna answered hurriedly in a firm tone.
“I’ll make sure to meet you before the end of this week.”
Sunlight filtered through the window and poured down on Erna, who straightened her neck and back. The sound of her heartbeat was so loud she could hear it. Her lips were dry, and her fingertips were numb. Fortunately, Baroness Baden nodded without further questioning.
"Yes. That's right. I hope we can find a way."
A soft sigh seeped into the overly quiet air of the restaurant.
Erna lifted her gaze from the hands resting on her lap to gaze intently at her grandmother. She had aged and become frail in the past month. It was understandable, having lost her husband overnight and leaving her meager possessions to a relative who was no different from anyone else. So how could she possibly tell the truth?
Erna swallowed, already sitting up straight. Her lips, tightly pressed together, were filled with a stubborn determination not to reveal the truth.
Actually, she'd already met with a lawyer. The answer she received was no different from what Erna already knew.
The estate of the Baron of Baden, who has no sons, is inherited by his nephew.
Erna had known for a long time that such an absurd law existed. It was frustrating and unfair, but if there was no way to change the law, she had to come up with a plan. It was around the time she made that decision that she began to gradually increase her work and save up some extra money. She hoped to one day repurchase this house, which was about to fall into the wrong hands. But that "someday" came too soon, and the money she had saved was ridiculously small.
'I'm sorry to say, but that's just the way inheritance law works, Miss Hardy.'
The lawyer only responded with a blank stare to Erna, who was pleading that there was no other way.
'For now, I think it would be best to explain the situation to Mr. Baden and ask for mercy.'
With those words, he put his pipe back in his mouth. It was incredibly rude, but Erna endured it. Not many lawyers would welcome a client who struggled to pay their consultation fees.
That afternoon, Erna wrote a letter to Thomas Baden. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't find anything more than the lawyer's best suggestion. And today, Thomas Baden's reply transformed her sliver of hope into shattered despair and rage.
“Everything will be okay, Grandma. Don’t worry too much.”
Erna, offering a smile and a lie to reassure her grandmother, rose from the table and put on her apron. Erna's hands were incredibly skilled as she helped Madame Greve, who had slowly approached, clear the table.
It's not okay.
As she scrubbed the dishes, Erna accepted the truth that she could no longer avoid.
It was no exaggeration to say that the wealth of the fallen Baron Baden now consisted entirely of this country mansion. However, this house would soon fall to Thomas Baden, the rightful heir. And he would sell the land without a second thought.
Erna took a deep breath, suppressing the rising anger. The soap bubbles that rose from her rough hands left tiny stains on the rolled-up sleeves and apron.
Thomas Baden said he fully understood Erna's feelings. However, he also had his own circumstances and could not delay the disposal of the mansion until Baroness Baden passed away.
If only he had just made his refusal so clear, she wouldn't have felt this way.
After finishing the dishes, Erna rolled up her apron and headed for the backyard. She sat down on her grandfather's chair beneath the beautiful maple tree, and tears welled up in her eyes.
That absurd reply contained a compromise proposal from Thomas Baden: if Erna Hardy became his wife, he would be willing to show special leniency.
Her vision, filled with the beautiful spring scenery, began to blur, but Erna glared at him, holding back tears. She didn't want to cry over someone like that. Treating a cornered relative like this, someone who was old enough to be her father, yet so unworthy of his age...
"Father."
Erna muttered without realizing it. A name she had forgotten for so long, but which still clearly existed in this world.
Yes, Father!
Erna squinted her eyes and jumped up from her chair. The strings of her fallen apron fluttered in the spring breeze.
What woke Bjorn was the noise outside, unchecked by the closed windows and thick curtains. The commotion and shouting that began in the river flowing beside the Grand Duke's residence permeated the dark bedroom.
He tried to sleep again, burying his head in the pillows and cushions, but Bjorn eventually gave in.
“You crazy, energetic kids.”
Bjorn sighed and cursed as he crawled out of bed. Opening the curtains covering the west window, he saw a group practicing rowing across the river.
Every summer, the Arbit River, which flows through the city and into the sea, hosts a rowing competition for the nobility. Summers are too long and tedious to sustain on partying and gossip alone, so the effort to do something about it is admirable. However, the problem lies in the river's proximity to the Grand Duke's residence. From spring, when practice begins in earnest, to summer, when the competitions conclude, it's difficult to escape this terrifying noise.
Bjorn, leaning against the windowsill, stared blankly at the boys who were sitting awkwardly in the cramped boat, burning with a passion he couldn't quite understand.
If you can't control your overflowing energy, you'd better have sex, you crazy bastards.
That would be a far more beneficial hobby than that pointless, sweaty pursuit. Even if the worst happened, he'd still have at least one child, so he'd contribute at least a small amount to the kingdom's population growth and national power. Of course, it would be a headache for him personally, but the tragedy of those cripples who couldn't control their behavior was none of his business.
Taking a sip of the lukewarm water on the table, Bjorn brushed his tangled hair back and turned. He threw on a robe and rang the bell, which was soon followed by the butler, Greg.
"I apologize, Your Highness. We didn't comply with your request to use the palace grounds, but we already have permission from the Schwerin City Hall to use the nearby grounds, so there's nothing we can do to stop it."
Greg, who knew very well why the bell rang at noon, which was practically midnight, hurried to report it before the master could ask.
“This year, with more teams participating, it looks like things will get a little more exciting.”
Bjorn burst into laughter at the tragic news he added.
“Leonid Dneister will win anyway, and all these colorful idiots are really enthusiastic about standing in the way.”
“Would you like to move bedrooms?”
“No. It’s okay.”
“Then I will prepare the meal.”
“To the balcony. Just some fruit.”
After leaving a dry order, Bjorn entered the bathroom. After a long, hot shower, he emerged to find a table set on the bedroom balcony waiting for him.
Bjorn sipped his cold whiskey soda and gazed at the scenery unfolding beneath him. The Grand Fountain, Schwerin Palace's signature attraction, gushed forth with refreshing water. The golden statues adorning the fountain and the crashing foam shimmered in the bright spring sunlight.
Bjorn's gaze followed the slope of the stairs connecting the Grand Duke's residence and the garden, past the fountain and into the canal through which the water flowed. From the River Abitt, which reached the end of the long canal, a roaring roar still echoed.
“Your Highness, His Highness the Crown Prince has eaten.”
Greg, who had come over in a hurry, said this just as Bjorn was putting down his glass of ice on the table.
Bjorn wiped the moisture from his fingers with a napkin, picked up an apple, and nodded absentmindedly. Not long after the butler left, Leonid, who had entered the bedroom, strode over and sat down across from him. She looked as if she had just rushed in from rowing practice.
“I greet you, Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
Bjorn greeted his younger brother with an elegant bow, a far cry from his arrogant, cross-legged posture. The rhythm of his head nodding sent water droplets cascading from the tips of his platinum hair.
Even with Leonid staring at him with amazement, Bjorn gazed down at the garden fountain with aplomb. The crisp flesh he'd taken a large bite of was as sweet as the fragrance of flowers wafting on the breeze.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
After the servants who had prepared the tea for the Crown Prince left, Bjorn looked at Leonid with narrowed eyes.
Schwerin, home to the Grand Duke's palace, was also a summer resort for the nobles of Letzen. Although it was still early, the court-obsessed Crown Prince had already moved to Schwerin Palace and was playing a significant role in disrupting his brother's daily routine.
Leonid sighed lightly and slammed the newspaper he'd brought down onto the table in response. The front page of the renowned tabloid, which specializes in social gossip, featured a large photo of regular customer Bjorn Deneister.
The royal poisonous mushroom, is this okay?
Bjorn's brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the ridiculous headline.
"Poisonous mushroom?"
“Didn’t you know? I think that’s the Grand Duke's new nickname.”
Poisonous mushroom.
Bjorn, who had been slowly reconsidering his thoughts, chuckled and put the newspaper down. Still, the article deserved praise for its excellent photography.
“Gladys is coming back to Letzen.”
Leonid, who had been quietly observing Bjorn's profile, cautiously spoke. "Gladys." The ripples that name caused erased the smile on Bjorn's lips.
The tabloid article, which he had read carefully, also contained a fairly detailed account of Princess Gladys Hartford of Lars, who was spending the summer in Letzen.
The return of the beautiful Crown Princess, once beloved by all of Letzen, but betrayed and abandoned by her husband, and even lost her child, was truly a story worthy of the enthusiastic gossip crowd. Adding her ex-husband, once Crown Prince but now a poisonous mushroom, to the mix, the picture became even more believable.
“What are you going to do, Bjorn?”
"Well."
Bjorn's attitude was so serious that it made Leonid look ridiculous.
Bjorn, who had just taken another bite of the apple, put it down and leaned back in his chair, wiping the juice that had trickled down his fingers. His gaze, devoid of any particular emotion, was simply calm.
It was spring. It was the perfect season for mushrooms to grow quickly.
Erna Hardy was a good child.
She had grown up to be a good lady, so it was time for her to become a good wife.
To summarize the lengthy letter, it was this: a reply that was quite different from what she had expected, specifically offering her the chance to be a good wife.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Erna's action of putting down the letter she had been staring at for a long time was as decisive as a soliloquy blurted out without thinking.
“This is absolutely ridiculous!”
Even after thinking about it again, the conclusion remained the same. Erna abruptly rose from her seat and walked briskly to the window. The afternoon was dazzling, the spring sunlight pouring down, making the mood even more gloomy.
Erna opened the creaking window, climbed onto the windowsill, and hugged her knees. The Baden family mansion, perched high on the ground, commanded a panoramic view of the village. Her gaze, wandering lazily through the orchards, rippling with apple blossoms, the stream, and the gently sloping hills covered in yellow primroses, finally rested on a chair, a lost owner, in one corner of the garden.
The world has no interest in the misfortune of one man.
That obvious truth struck Erna anew. Even after losing her beloved family and facing the threat of being driven from her home, the world, brimming with the warmth of spring, was mercilessly beautiful. If her grandfather heard this foolish grumbling, he'd just laugh. "So, what a relief," she added, her voice a bit sarcastically and carefree.
“Miss! Miss Erna!”
Erna, lost in thought, was awakened by the voice of her housekeeper, Madame Greve, coming from across the hallway. It seemed it was already lunchtime.
"Yes! Let’s go! I’ll be down soon!”
Erna answered loudly and hurriedly climbed down from the windowsill. She hid the absurd letter in a drawer so it wouldn't be noticed, and straightened her disheveled clothes.
It's okay.
Erna muttered as if reciting an order all the way to the first-floor restaurant, practically running.
It's okay, everything will be okay.
***
“Erna, have you ever met a lawyer?”
Baroness Baden, who had been idly chatting about the weather and the new patchwork quilt she'd made, finally got to the main topic at the end of the meal. She tried to maintain a composed demeanor, but her eyes were tinged with an unmistakable impatience.
“No, Grandma. Not yet.”
Erna answered hurriedly in a firm tone.
“I’ll make sure to meet you before the end of this week.”
Sunlight filtered through the window and poured down on Erna, who straightened her neck and back. The sound of her heartbeat was so loud she could hear it. Her lips were dry, and her fingertips were numb. Fortunately, Baroness Baden nodded without further questioning.
"Yes. That's right. I hope we can find a way."
A soft sigh seeped into the overly quiet air of the restaurant.
Erna lifted her gaze from the hands resting on her lap to gaze intently at her grandmother. She had aged and become frail in the past month. It was understandable, having lost her husband overnight and leaving her meager possessions to a relative who was no different from anyone else. So how could she possibly tell the truth?
Erna swallowed, already sitting up straight. Her lips, tightly pressed together, were filled with a stubborn determination not to reveal the truth.
Actually, she'd already met with a lawyer. The answer she received was no different from what Erna already knew.
The estate of the Baron of Baden, who has no sons, is inherited by his nephew.
Erna had known for a long time that such an absurd law existed. It was frustrating and unfair, but if there was no way to change the law, she had to come up with a plan. It was around the time she made that decision that she began to gradually increase her work and save up some extra money. She hoped to one day repurchase this house, which was about to fall into the wrong hands. But that "someday" came too soon, and the money she had saved was ridiculously small.
'I'm sorry to say, but that's just the way inheritance law works, Miss Hardy.'
The lawyer only responded with a blank stare to Erna, who was pleading that there was no other way.
'For now, I think it would be best to explain the situation to Mr. Baden and ask for mercy.'
With those words, he put his pipe back in his mouth. It was incredibly rude, but Erna endured it. Not many lawyers would welcome a client who struggled to pay their consultation fees.
That afternoon, Erna wrote a letter to Thomas Baden. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't find anything more than the lawyer's best suggestion. And today, Thomas Baden's reply transformed her sliver of hope into shattered despair and rage.
“Everything will be okay, Grandma. Don’t worry too much.”
Erna, offering a smile and a lie to reassure her grandmother, rose from the table and put on her apron. Erna's hands were incredibly skilled as she helped Madame Greve, who had slowly approached, clear the table.
It's not okay.
As she scrubbed the dishes, Erna accepted the truth that she could no longer avoid.
It was no exaggeration to say that the wealth of the fallen Baron Baden now consisted entirely of this country mansion. However, this house would soon fall to Thomas Baden, the rightful heir. And he would sell the land without a second thought.
Erna took a deep breath, suppressing the rising anger. The soap bubbles that rose from her rough hands left tiny stains on the rolled-up sleeves and apron.
Thomas Baden said he fully understood Erna's feelings. However, he also had his own circumstances and could not delay the disposal of the mansion until Baroness Baden passed away.
If only he had just made his refusal so clear, she wouldn't have felt this way.
After finishing the dishes, Erna rolled up her apron and headed for the backyard. She sat down on her grandfather's chair beneath the beautiful maple tree, and tears welled up in her eyes.
That absurd reply contained a compromise proposal from Thomas Baden: if Erna Hardy became his wife, he would be willing to show special leniency.
Her vision, filled with the beautiful spring scenery, began to blur, but Erna glared at him, holding back tears. She didn't want to cry over someone like that. Treating a cornered relative like this, someone who was old enough to be her father, yet so unworthy of his age...
"Father."
Erna muttered without realizing it. A name she had forgotten for so long, but which still clearly existed in this world.
Yes, Father!
Erna squinted her eyes and jumped up from her chair. The strings of her fallen apron fluttered in the spring breeze.
***
What woke Bjorn was the noise outside, unchecked by the closed windows and thick curtains. The commotion and shouting that began in the river flowing beside the Grand Duke's residence permeated the dark bedroom.
He tried to sleep again, burying his head in the pillows and cushions, but Bjorn eventually gave in.
“You crazy, energetic kids.”
Bjorn sighed and cursed as he crawled out of bed. Opening the curtains covering the west window, he saw a group practicing rowing across the river.
Every summer, the Arbit River, which flows through the city and into the sea, hosts a rowing competition for the nobility. Summers are too long and tedious to sustain on partying and gossip alone, so the effort to do something about it is admirable. However, the problem lies in the river's proximity to the Grand Duke's residence. From spring, when practice begins in earnest, to summer, when the competitions conclude, it's difficult to escape this terrifying noise.
Bjorn, leaning against the windowsill, stared blankly at the boys who were sitting awkwardly in the cramped boat, burning with a passion he couldn't quite understand.
If you can't control your overflowing energy, you'd better have sex, you crazy bastards.
That would be a far more beneficial hobby than that pointless, sweaty pursuit. Even if the worst happened, he'd still have at least one child, so he'd contribute at least a small amount to the kingdom's population growth and national power. Of course, it would be a headache for him personally, but the tragedy of those cripples who couldn't control their behavior was none of his business.
Taking a sip of the lukewarm water on the table, Bjorn brushed his tangled hair back and turned. He threw on a robe and rang the bell, which was soon followed by the butler, Greg.
"I apologize, Your Highness. We didn't comply with your request to use the palace grounds, but we already have permission from the Schwerin City Hall to use the nearby grounds, so there's nothing we can do to stop it."
Greg, who knew very well why the bell rang at noon, which was practically midnight, hurried to report it before the master could ask.
“This year, with more teams participating, it looks like things will get a little more exciting.”
Bjorn burst into laughter at the tragic news he added.
“Leonid Dneister will win anyway, and all these colorful idiots are really enthusiastic about standing in the way.”
“Would you like to move bedrooms?”
“No. It’s okay.”
“Then I will prepare the meal.”
“To the balcony. Just some fruit.”
After leaving a dry order, Bjorn entered the bathroom. After a long, hot shower, he emerged to find a table set on the bedroom balcony waiting for him.
Bjorn sipped his cold whiskey soda and gazed at the scenery unfolding beneath him. The Grand Fountain, Schwerin Palace's signature attraction, gushed forth with refreshing water. The golden statues adorning the fountain and the crashing foam shimmered in the bright spring sunlight.
Bjorn's gaze followed the slope of the stairs connecting the Grand Duke's residence and the garden, past the fountain and into the canal through which the water flowed. From the River Abitt, which reached the end of the long canal, a roaring roar still echoed.
“Your Highness, His Highness the Crown Prince has eaten.”
Greg, who had come over in a hurry, said this just as Bjorn was putting down his glass of ice on the table.
Bjorn wiped the moisture from his fingers with a napkin, picked up an apple, and nodded absentmindedly. Not long after the butler left, Leonid, who had entered the bedroom, strode over and sat down across from him. She looked as if she had just rushed in from rowing practice.
“I greet you, Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
Bjorn greeted his younger brother with an elegant bow, a far cry from his arrogant, cross-legged posture. The rhythm of his head nodding sent water droplets cascading from the tips of his platinum hair.
Even with Leonid staring at him with amazement, Bjorn gazed down at the garden fountain with aplomb. The crisp flesh he'd taken a large bite of was as sweet as the fragrance of flowers wafting on the breeze.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
After the servants who had prepared the tea for the Crown Prince left, Bjorn looked at Leonid with narrowed eyes.
Schwerin, home to the Grand Duke's palace, was also a summer resort for the nobles of Letzen. Although it was still early, the court-obsessed Crown Prince had already moved to Schwerin Palace and was playing a significant role in disrupting his brother's daily routine.
Leonid sighed lightly and slammed the newspaper he'd brought down onto the table in response. The front page of the renowned tabloid, which specializes in social gossip, featured a large photo of regular customer Bjorn Deneister.
The royal poisonous mushroom, is this okay?
Bjorn's brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the ridiculous headline.
"Poisonous mushroom?"
“Didn’t you know? I think that’s the Grand Duke's new nickname.”
Poisonous mushroom.
Bjorn, who had been slowly reconsidering his thoughts, chuckled and put the newspaper down. Still, the article deserved praise for its excellent photography.
“Gladys is coming back to Letzen.”
Leonid, who had been quietly observing Bjorn's profile, cautiously spoke. "Gladys." The ripples that name caused erased the smile on Bjorn's lips.
The tabloid article, which he had read carefully, also contained a fairly detailed account of Princess Gladys Hartford of Lars, who was spending the summer in Letzen.
The return of the beautiful Crown Princess, once beloved by all of Letzen, but betrayed and abandoned by her husband, and even lost her child, was truly a story worthy of the enthusiastic gossip crowd. Adding her ex-husband, once Crown Prince but now a poisonous mushroom, to the mix, the picture became even more believable.
“What are you going to do, Bjorn?”
"Well."
Bjorn's attitude was so serious that it made Leonid look ridiculous.
Bjorn, who had just taken another bite of the apple, put it down and leaned back in his chair, wiping the juice that had trickled down his fingers. His gaze, devoid of any particular emotion, was simply calm.
It was spring. It was the perfect season for mushrooms to grow quickly.
i love this novel
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