Problematic Prince - Chapter 12

12. The Helpless Lady


Leonard's gaze was too clear to be dismissed as drunken tantrums. It didn't take long for the silence flowing around the card table to erupt into enthusiastic cheers.

"Sounds fun, right? Then, how about we use the chips here for the bet?"

“Yes. I agree. I totally agree.”

Peter pushed the poker chips piled up in front of him with an excited face.

Bjorn sighed softly and leaned back in his chair. As more fools joined in, the game was already fading away.

Leonard, you son of a bitch. Since it looks like you're going to lose, you're going to throw the game.

Leonard remained unmoved by Bjorn's irritated gaze. Meanwhile, poker chips, placed here and there, filled the center of the cluttered card table. The bettors, realizing the stakes were much higher than expected, now had a serious, determined look on their faces. Only one remained undecided: Bjorn.

“Bjorn, you’re going to do it too? Yeah?”

Peter slowly approached Bjorn.

Everyone present knew that Bjorn Dneister would never take a gamble like this. Therefore, the stakes had to be even higher. Opportunities to rob the Prince of his gambling prowess didn't come often.

“Are you doing it?”

Peter nervously pushed the pile of poker chips in front of Bjorn.

Although he didn't seem particularly pleased, Bjorn didn't try to dissuade him. While his "eat and leave" attitude was somewhat irritating, it was understandable given the abundance of food he was being offered.

Peter, in a fit of excitement, gathered all his remaining chips and placed them in the center of the table. The stakes for Erna Hardy's favor had now grown large enough to easily buy a townhouse in the city center.

"Let's start with today's art exhibition. Everyone will be attending, so it's fair, right?"

Leonard, the first person to initiate this pathetic betting game, declared with a mock solemnity.

After finishing his remaining drink, Bjorn checked his pocket watch. It was already morning. The opening ceremony of the Royal Academy of Arts' art exhibition, which he had to attend regardless of his reluctance, was fast approaching.

***

Erna finished her silverbells just as dawn began to break. The meticulously crafted arrangement, from the buds to the stems and leaves, was as beautiful as a real flower.

Erna gazed with pride at the lily of the valley she had blossomed with her own hands. The more complex the arrangement, the more valuable it became, and of all the flowers, this lily of the valley was the most expensive. It was Erna's favorite, and also the flower she was particularly good at making.

When she first started making and selling artificial flowers, she had to make nothing but silver bells nonstop, but a few years ago, orders had noticeably decreased. But Erna still loved these silver bells the most.

As the clear morning sunlight reached the desk, Erna stood up from her desk.

The city day began with an excruciating slowness. It was a difficult thing for Erna, who began her work before the rooster crowed. Unwilling to waste time, she began making one flower each morning, and now the number of artificial flowers had grown to the point where they filled a basket.

She wishes she could find a place to sell this.

Erna looked at the carefully crafted arrangements with a look of regret.

In Burford, she sold artificial flowers through Mr. Alley, who ran a general store. It was he who first gave Mrs. Greve this job.

At first, they were sold in small quantities at a local general store, but as Erna's skills improved day by day, Mr. Alley introduced her to a place where she could sell the flowers at a higher price. It was a department store, a huge and luxurious store in a big city.

Erna couldn't quite imagine what a vast store with everything it offered would be like, but there was no need to worry. If she delivered the flowers there, she could fetch twice the price of what she'd paid at Alley's.

The money earned from selling artificial flowers at the department store was a huge boon to the Baden family's finances. Tea chests and sugar containers were no longer empty, and the dire need to patch up old clothes due to a lack of fabric was avoided. Thanks to this, in Erna's vague imagination, the department store was a place far more magnificent and beautiful than the royal palace. However, after seeing the palace, she corrected that view.

Is there any way to sell artificial flowers directly at the department store here?

Erna examined the completed arrangements with a more serious look in her eyes.

Although he had managed to keep the country house thanks to a deal with his father, without the money she had been contributing to the household, the Baden family's finances would have become straitened once again. Madame Greve, whose eyesight had deteriorated significantly, was no longer able to create arrangements, and for several years now, this task had fallen entirely to Erna.

Work could be done here, so all she had to do was find a store to deliver to. If that were difficult, perhaps she could send the finished flowers to Baden. If postage costs were prohibitive, she could visit Burford once a season, carrying the items herself.

Just as Erna reached that conclusion, a brisk knock rang out. It was Lisa, carrying a large box. It contained a new dress and hat.

“Miss, this dress is quite decent, isn’t it?”

Lisa smiled, waving the blue dress she had taken out of the box. Her tone was as if she were trying to soothe a child.

Erna smiled and nodded. Even by Erna's standards, which rarely revealed anything below her collarbone even in midsummer, the dress was still a bit too revealing, but compared to the last one, it was as pious as a nun's habit.

“But why the new clothes?”

“Didn’t you know? You have to attend the opening ceremony of the art exhibition with Madam today.”

Erna and Lisa stared at each other with wide eyes, each surprised for different reasons.

“To the art exhibition? Me?”

“Yes! It’s a famous exhibition held every summer at the Royal Academy of Arts.”

Lisa, as if it were her own work, tried the dress on Erna, delighted. "Royal Academy of Arts," Erna repeated the word, dazed, and a smile slowly spread across her lips. "Pavel." It was thanks to the nostalgic name that naturally connected her to that place.

Maybe she can meet Pavel.

With such hope, Erna began her day with more energy than usual. After breakfast, she dressed up and was led by the Viscountess into the carriage. The unfamiliar city scenery didn't feel as threatening today as it had before.

"I hope you do well today. Unless you have a bad habit of enjoying being embarrassed."

As they approached the art gallery, the Viscountess Hardy, who had remained silent, spoke. Her voice was as cold as ice, her expression unconcealed.

“Yes, Madam. I will do my best.”

Erna calmly gave the best answer she could.

Erna, too, was vaguely aware that she had a rather unsavory reputation. The intense interest led to countless misunderstandings and speculations, which soon became established as entrenched truths. The more she tried to shake off the stigma, the deeper she felt herself sinking into the swamp.

So, she has to try to hold out today.

As Erna braced herself, as if hypnotized, the carriage stopped. A beautiful building of white marble gleamed dazzlingly in the sunlight.

***

“Miss Hardy is truly a hopeless young lady.”

Victoria Meyer's deep sigh permeated the quiet garden. Erna was still slumped on the bench, panting heavily. Her pale, trembling form was pitiful and pathetic.

"Isn't it time you got used to it? How long do you plan on showing this ugly side?"

“I’m sorry... Countess.”

Erna barely opened her lips to stammer a response. Her bright blue eyes stood out even more, their reddened corners making them stand out. Even at this moment, her captivating face only further disturbed Victoria Meyer.

Just a bright smile and a little flirting would have captivated men. Seeing Erna struggle with even that simple task made her feel like a fire was rising inside her chest.

She's seen countless young ladies who find social life awkward and unfamiliar, but Erna Hardy was the first to find herself struggling to breathe in public. She seemed to be holding up well today, but the symptoms began when Count Bergen's son approached her. Had she not quickly helped her out and led her out into the garden, Erna would have become a spectacle for everyone again.

“I didn’t mean to. Countess, I really…l...”

"I know."

Victoria Meyer cut Erna off, rubbing her throbbing forehead.

"I wish there were a young lady capable of such a performance. It's the tragedy of Miss Hardy and me that she can't."

"Yes?"

Erna looked at her with wet eyes.

The reputation of being a beauty comparable to Princess Gladys was deliberately created by the Hardy family, but it was also undoubtedly an objective fact. The reason the Hardy family, once reluctant, accepted the position of chaperone for their daughter was solely because of Erna's beauty.

Who would have thought that this pretty girl would be such a pain in the ass?

"Listen carefully, Miss Hardy. This isn't just your business. It's my honor, too."

“What do you mean?”

Erna, still at a loss for words, asked again. Victoria Meyer, staring blankly at her innocent face, let out a deep sigh. Regret washed over her, a choice so wrong it was a long time ago, but it was already irreversible.

"If people are so scary, try thinking of them as not being human at all. Think of them as things familiar to Miss Hardy... Yes, flowers or animals from the countryside. Wouldn't it be a little easier if you thought of them as such?"

Even if she thought it was foolish, Victoria Meyer insisted with a serious tone. She couldn't dare allow a daughter of the Hardy family to tarnish her brilliant achievements.

As the time came for the pre-dinner event to begin, Victoria Meyer hurriedly rose from her seat.

“I’ll go first, so come back when you’ve calmed down a bit. Understood?”

Erna, who had been looking up at her as she urged her on, nodded absentmindedly. Countess Meyer sighed deeply again and hurriedly left the garden.

Erna clenched her cold, stiff hands and tried to catch her breath. The strangling pain in her throat had eased, but she couldn't bring herself to turn around and face the countless eyes watching her.

"It's okay."

Erna forced herself to sit up straight, telling a familiar lie. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her face, meticulously straightening her disheveled clothes. It was then, absentmindedly turning her head, that she spotted a strangely familiar figure at the end of the path.

“...Pavel?”

Erna muttered with a blank expression. Meanwhile, the tall man disappeared deep into the garden. Red hair, a large frame, a familiar back. It was clearly the Pavel Lore Erna remembered.

“Pavel!”

Erna stood up from her seat, calling out his name urgently.

The sound of hasty footsteps running along the path began to shake the languid garden on a summer afternoon.

Previous                    Next