11. A bet of grace
“Hello, ex-wife.”
When their eyes met, Bjorn greeted her calmly, even with a faint smile on his face.
Gladys, who had been nervously fidgeting with her clasped hands, suddenly looked up in surprise. Unsure of what to say, her lips twitched as Bjorn casually approached and sat down across from her. It was a reunion unlike anything she had ever imagined.
"Long time no see."
Gladys managed to open her mouth. It was a foolish greeting, a phrase she'd practiced countless times all the way here, but it was pointless. Bjorn nodded without answering.
"I'm so sorry for being so rude. Just like this, out of the blue, without any prior notice. Still, I thought it would be better to meet here than outside..."
Her voice trembled so much that he couldn't finish her sentence, but Bjorn remained silent. Gladys bit her lip, choking back tears.
The gap between the Bjorn in her memories, where traces of a young boy still lingered, and the Bjorn before her eyes was quite large. The intimidating presence of his sharper face and his tightly packed frame made her shoulders hunched.
Finally, Gladys couldn't bear to look at him any longer and lowered her head. Her vision seemed to blur, and then a large teardrop fell onto the back of her trembling hand.
Bjorn watched the crying without any hesitation. Soon, Mrs. Fitz, who had brought out tea, stopped by. She completely ignored Gladys, set the tea table, and then withdrew.
Bjorn stared indifferently at the woman who had once been his wife, then grabbed the teacup before him. Even after the sugar cubes, tossed into the murky, dark tea, lost their shape, Gladys couldn't stop crying.
“It’s still nice to see you.”
Bjorn let out a low laugh, almost a sigh. Even on the day she was notified of the divorce, Gladys cried quietly, just as she did today.
“It’s still the same, so it’s boring.”
Bjorn, his gaze shifting beyond the window, slowly sipped his moderately cooled tea. As his consciousness gradually returned, his patience rapidly depleted.
“I remember things being cleared up between us, Princess.”
Her eyes, which took in the sparkling, flowing river and the forest beyond, gradually narrowed.
“Give me what you want.”
Bjorn put down his half-empty teacup and turned his head.
“Take what you get.”
The slight smile on his lips disappeared, and his complexion changed in an instant.
“Isn’t that right, Gladys?”
“Bjorn, I...”
“Get to the point.”
Bjorn spat out in a tone that was not very enthusiastic.
“It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten my shallow patience, perhaps?”
"Sorry."
Gladys, who had barely stopped sobbing, opened her lips with difficulty.
“Because of me... I’m really sorry. I’m sorry.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, and the tears that had been forming in her large eyes began to trickle down. Her small, tear-soaked face gleamed with a soft light in the morning sunlight.
Bjorn leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. The woman before him was as beautiful as ever. The fact that she evoked no emotion was no different.
"So?"
Bjorn's lips returned to a smile.
"You wouldn't have come to Letzen just to say something like that. Did the King of Lars give you an order? A hopeful command, like, 'Now that all your troubles are over, try to get back together with your ex-husband.'"
Gladys, whose lips had been quivering slightly, lowered her gaze. Her hands, clasped together as if in prayer, were now as pale as a sheet of paper. The clear, silent answer deepened Bjorn's smile.
"What a daughter who listens so well to her father. You're still so kind."
A naive and tender-hearted Princess, unaware of anything like malice. If humanity were divided into good and evil, Gladys Hartford would undoubtedly fall into the good category. Bjorn readily acknowledged that fact, though he didn't hold that kind of good in high regard.
“It’s not just for that reason.”
Gladys took out a handkerchief and wiped away her tears, then raised her head again.
"I wanted to apologize. That's why I mustered up the courage. Because I've always felt sorry for you. I... I did."
“I think you’re mistaken, Princess.”
Bjorn slowly closed his eyes, which felt like a sticky foreign substance.
"That deal was fairly fair. If you look at the pros and cons, we might actually have benefited."
“But you...”
“I’m so touched that my ex-wife, whom I divorced, is so worried about me, I’m almost in tears.”
Bjorn sat up from the chair he had been leaning against, almost half-lying.
It wasn't that he held any particular ill feelings toward Gladys. There had never been any genuine affection between them to warrant such resentment, and four years, after all, was a long time.
So, if he had to define this dirty feeling, he guessed it would be something like irritation.
Bjorn, staring blankly at the table, gently nudged the teacup with his long fingertips. The sound of the teacup and saucer shattering on the floor shook the silence of the study.
Even with Gladys in a daze, Bjorn calmly pulled the rope. Soon after, a middle-aged maid entered the study. Gladys began to sob again, and Bjorn's gaze brushed past the shards of porcelain, then rested on the maid's bewildered, flustered face.
“Clean it up.”
With a smile that had brightened his face, Bjorn gave the order and left the study without a second thought. After finishing his training and entering his bedroom, a deepening sense of fatigue washed over him.
Instead of casually throwing himself onto his bed as usual, Bjorn opened the window facing the river. The cheers and shouts of the group, who had already begun rowing practice, wafted in, along with the faint scent of water.
Bjorn let out a sigh mixed with laughter, lit a cigar, and leaned against the window. The water scales on the leisurely flowing river were dazzling. The long trail of smoke soon dissipated in the wind, and the brighter light of early summer stung his throbbing eyes.
It was boring and annoying.
“As of now, it seems that Count Lehmann is the most prominent candidate for the groom of the Hardy family.”
Erna Hardy's name was now practically a regular at the card table. Bjorn glanced at Peter, who was sitting next to him, after checking the cards in his hand.
“Count Lehmann? Is that old man still alive?”
The serious question caused laughter to flow out from all over.
An old man nearing his seventies and a young girl not yet twenty.
Bjorn raised his eyebrows slightly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. The hand was good. Barring any surprises, the winner of this game was practically certain.
"I heard Viscount Hardy meets with Count Lehmann frequently. They even enjoyed an opera performance together recently. Erna Hardy, of course."
“Hey. As long as you pay a really high price, nothing else matters.”
"That's the way it is with all marriages, isn't it? If that old man dies early, he can sell his daughter once more, so it'll be quite an attractive match for Viscount Hardy."
The atmosphere of the game gradually warmed as the words of ridicule and pity for Erna Hardy were exchanged diligently. Bjorn took a step back, waiting for the right moment. It was a game where the stakes could be raised and a decision made.
Ah, Bjorn. I hear Princess Gladys herself went to Schwerin Castle to meet her ex-husband? Must have been a fiery reunion?
“Hello, ex-wife.”
When their eyes met, Bjorn greeted her calmly, even with a faint smile on his face.
Gladys, who had been nervously fidgeting with her clasped hands, suddenly looked up in surprise. Unsure of what to say, her lips twitched as Bjorn casually approached and sat down across from her. It was a reunion unlike anything she had ever imagined.
"Long time no see."
Gladys managed to open her mouth. It was a foolish greeting, a phrase she'd practiced countless times all the way here, but it was pointless. Bjorn nodded without answering.
"I'm so sorry for being so rude. Just like this, out of the blue, without any prior notice. Still, I thought it would be better to meet here than outside..."
Her voice trembled so much that he couldn't finish her sentence, but Bjorn remained silent. Gladys bit her lip, choking back tears.
The gap between the Bjorn in her memories, where traces of a young boy still lingered, and the Bjorn before her eyes was quite large. The intimidating presence of his sharper face and his tightly packed frame made her shoulders hunched.
Finally, Gladys couldn't bear to look at him any longer and lowered her head. Her vision seemed to blur, and then a large teardrop fell onto the back of her trembling hand.
Bjorn watched the crying without any hesitation. Soon, Mrs. Fitz, who had brought out tea, stopped by. She completely ignored Gladys, set the tea table, and then withdrew.
Bjorn stared indifferently at the woman who had once been his wife, then grabbed the teacup before him. Even after the sugar cubes, tossed into the murky, dark tea, lost their shape, Gladys couldn't stop crying.
“It’s still nice to see you.”
Bjorn let out a low laugh, almost a sigh. Even on the day she was notified of the divorce, Gladys cried quietly, just as she did today.
“It’s still the same, so it’s boring.”
Bjorn, his gaze shifting beyond the window, slowly sipped his moderately cooled tea. As his consciousness gradually returned, his patience rapidly depleted.
“I remember things being cleared up between us, Princess.”
Her eyes, which took in the sparkling, flowing river and the forest beyond, gradually narrowed.
“Give me what you want.”
Bjorn put down his half-empty teacup and turned his head.
“Take what you get.”
The slight smile on his lips disappeared, and his complexion changed in an instant.
“Isn’t that right, Gladys?”
“Bjorn, I...”
“Get to the point.”
Bjorn spat out in a tone that was not very enthusiastic.
“It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten my shallow patience, perhaps?”
"Sorry."
Gladys, who had barely stopped sobbing, opened her lips with difficulty.
“Because of me... I’m really sorry. I’m sorry.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, and the tears that had been forming in her large eyes began to trickle down. Her small, tear-soaked face gleamed with a soft light in the morning sunlight.
Bjorn leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. The woman before him was as beautiful as ever. The fact that she evoked no emotion was no different.
"So?"
Bjorn's lips returned to a smile.
"You wouldn't have come to Letzen just to say something like that. Did the King of Lars give you an order? A hopeful command, like, 'Now that all your troubles are over, try to get back together with your ex-husband.'"
Gladys, whose lips had been quivering slightly, lowered her gaze. Her hands, clasped together as if in prayer, were now as pale as a sheet of paper. The clear, silent answer deepened Bjorn's smile.
"What a daughter who listens so well to her father. You're still so kind."
A naive and tender-hearted Princess, unaware of anything like malice. If humanity were divided into good and evil, Gladys Hartford would undoubtedly fall into the good category. Bjorn readily acknowledged that fact, though he didn't hold that kind of good in high regard.
“It’s not just for that reason.”
Gladys took out a handkerchief and wiped away her tears, then raised her head again.
"I wanted to apologize. That's why I mustered up the courage. Because I've always felt sorry for you. I... I did."
“I think you’re mistaken, Princess.”
Bjorn slowly closed his eyes, which felt like a sticky foreign substance.
"That deal was fairly fair. If you look at the pros and cons, we might actually have benefited."
“But you...”
“I’m so touched that my ex-wife, whom I divorced, is so worried about me, I’m almost in tears.”
Bjorn sat up from the chair he had been leaning against, almost half-lying.
It wasn't that he held any particular ill feelings toward Gladys. There had never been any genuine affection between them to warrant such resentment, and four years, after all, was a long time.
So, if he had to define this dirty feeling, he guessed it would be something like irritation.
Bjorn, staring blankly at the table, gently nudged the teacup with his long fingertips. The sound of the teacup and saucer shattering on the floor shook the silence of the study.
Even with Gladys in a daze, Bjorn calmly pulled the rope. Soon after, a middle-aged maid entered the study. Gladys began to sob again, and Bjorn's gaze brushed past the shards of porcelain, then rested on the maid's bewildered, flustered face.
“Clean it up.”
With a smile that had brightened his face, Bjorn gave the order and left the study without a second thought. After finishing his training and entering his bedroom, a deepening sense of fatigue washed over him.
Instead of casually throwing himself onto his bed as usual, Bjorn opened the window facing the river. The cheers and shouts of the group, who had already begun rowing practice, wafted in, along with the faint scent of water.
Bjorn let out a sigh mixed with laughter, lit a cigar, and leaned against the window. The water scales on the leisurely flowing river were dazzling. The long trail of smoke soon dissipated in the wind, and the brighter light of early summer stung his throbbing eyes.
It was boring and annoying.
***
“As of now, it seems that Count Lehmann is the most prominent candidate for the groom of the Hardy family.”
Erna Hardy's name was now practically a regular at the card table. Bjorn glanced at Peter, who was sitting next to him, after checking the cards in his hand.
“Count Lehmann? Is that old man still alive?”
The serious question caused laughter to flow out from all over.
An old man nearing his seventies and a young girl not yet twenty.
Bjorn raised his eyebrows slightly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. The hand was good. Barring any surprises, the winner of this game was practically certain.
"I heard Viscount Hardy meets with Count Lehmann frequently. They even enjoyed an opera performance together recently. Erna Hardy, of course."
“Hey. As long as you pay a really high price, nothing else matters.”
"That's the way it is with all marriages, isn't it? If that old man dies early, he can sell his daughter once more, so it'll be quite an attractive match for Viscount Hardy."
The atmosphere of the game gradually warmed as the words of ridicule and pity for Erna Hardy were exchanged diligently. Bjorn took a step back, waiting for the right moment. It was a game where the stakes could be raised and a decision made.
Ah, Bjorn. I hear Princess Gladys herself went to Schwerin Castle to meet her ex-husband? Must have been a fiery reunion?
Peter, who had been letting out a strange laugh, turned his head. Instead of answering, Bjorn lit the end of the cigar between his lips.
Everyone's life is so fucking boring.
With the tedium of idle, time-wasting lives, it's no wonder that every aristocrat in high society has at least one morbid hobby. This summer, the most popular pastime seems to be the Hardy marriage business and the speculation about the reunion of the former Crown Prince and his wife.
"My mother said Princess Gladys came to Letzen with the intention of forgiving her ex-husband and reuniting with him. If the kind-hearted Princess wants it, there's nothing she can do. Of course, you were quite harsh in your insults."
"Oh, I heard that too. My sister keeps asking me about you whenever she sees me, and it drives me crazy. Our Prince Bjorn, you're the best living romance novel in the kingdom."
"But, if you marry the same woman twice, do you have to have two weddings? Wouldn't it be a bit awkward for the bride and groom to be bridesmaids at the same wedding twice?"
Peter, who had been looking at the cards with a look of confusion, asked with a sparkle in his eyes. The game seemed to have been abandoned. Bjorn answered by blowing a long puff of cigarette smoke in Peter's face.
Peter, who had been swearing and swearing, soon found himself drawn to other interests. The table, which had been buzzing with talk about horse race winners and investments in new shipping companies, shifted once again to the topic of Viscount Hardy's marriage.
“But no matter how desperate you are for money, isn’t it wrong to sell your daughter to an old man who is about to die?”
"Isn't it a gamble worth taking? If the Lehmann family, with its only daughter, could have even one late-born son, all that wealth would be hers."
“Son? Um... Are you standing?”
“Well, since you’re confident, you’ll probably buy a young bride at a high price.”
Leonard shrugged and put down his cards. It was a pretty good hand, but Bjorn still had a high chance of winning.
“Poor Miss Hardy. She’s never met a decent man before and has ended up marrying an old man.”
Peter sighed with genuine regret.
"Come to think of it, Miss Hardy, doesn't she look strangely like Princess Gladys? They may look different, but they have a similar vibe."
“Yes. They are beauties, like delicate baby deer.”
A crooked smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he glanced at the nodding idiots.
You'll only come to your senses if you get your neck bitten by that deer's teeth, you crazy bastards.
“Then shall we do something good?”
While Bjorn was choosing his next card, Leonard made an odd suggestion.
"Poor Miss Hardy, it's just a chance for her to enjoy the courtship of a younger man before she get married. Well, wouldn't that be a nice memory for both of them?"
"Have you ever seen someone run away in surprise at the mere mention of hello? I've sent them flowers and cards, but not a single one has even received a reply."
“Let’s make a bet.”
Leonard's eyes gleamed as he scanned the pile of poker chips on the card table. Bjorn, who had been calculating how to end the game while ignoring the nonsense, raised his head, his brow furrowed.
"The person chosen by Miss Hardy wins. It's a bet of favor, so to speak. What do you think?"
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