10. A very bad person
"Miss, have you ever been to that beach over there? The sunset there is really pretty. Should we go there this evening? No. You're still a little sore, so the night air must be unpleasant. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be getting excited by myself."
Lisa's face, once radiant with excitement, suddenly shifted to concern. Erna, who had been walking, listening intently to their chatter as if listening to a pleasant song, suddenly stopped and raised her head.
“It’s okay now, Lisa. It doesn’t hurt.”
"Really? Your face is still so pale. Ah. You're naturally as white as snow."
Lisa, who had been tilting her head, burst into a cheerful laugh. It was a smile that made Erna feel good just by looking at it.
Erna followed Lisa, who began to describe the city's sights again, walking briskly. It was still early morning, so most shops were closed. Thanks to this, the streets were deserted, allowing Erna to enjoy a leisurely stroll.
After returning from the royal ball, Erna lay in bed for three full days. Even the Viscountess, who had been feigning illness, urgently summoned a doctor when her fever showed no signs of abating. While not particularly strong, she wasn't this weak. It seemed her body couldn't handle the sudden change in her life.
Will I be able to survive this year?
When she recalled the terrifying ball, her heart pounded faster. She tried to explain to the doctor the pain of that day, when her vision went blank and she couldn't breathe. But all she got was a dismissive response, that it was just a common neurosis. They told her to get used to it and be okay. So, just relax.
Although it seemed impossible, Erna obediently agreed. She had already made a promise, and hadn't she been paid for it? Therefore, Erna had a duty to fulfill her role as the Hardy family's daughter for a year. She had to do so, if only to uphold her grandfather and grandmother's honor.
“Hello, Miss Hardy!”
Just as she steeled her resolve once more, a loud shout rang out. Erna instinctively shrugged her shoulders and looked around. Behind the fountain, on the terrace of a splendid building, a strange man was waving loudly.
"Good morning!"
The man greeted Erna, who was looking bewildered, again with a loud voice. The men sitting around the table behind him all turned their gazes to Erna.
Erna, who had been observing them intently, gasped and took a step back, unconsciously sighing. Her eyes met with the blond man sitting with his chin tilted against his head.
The only familiar face was the Poison Mushroom Prince.
Look at that.
A new, hollow laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he watched Erna Hardy's back as she marched off. He felt like he'd been laughing more and more frequently lately. It was all thanks to that strange property the swindled Viscount had put up for sale.
Erna, who had awkwardly greeted Peter, quickly hid behind the maid. More accurately, it was the maid who had stopped her. After a moment of confusion, Erna turned around and began to run away. The voluminous frills and lace that followed her hurried footsteps made her desperate escape seem even more absurd.
“That maid is that hell dog.”
Peter shook his head and turned away.
"Still, the fact that he ran away after seeing Bjorn is a small consolation. My face isn't the problem."
“Yeah, that’s true.”
"It seems clear that nothing is really going on between them. So, was Bjorn being used by Miss Hardy? As a means to attract attention at the ball?"
"Even the Grand Duke has such a day. How do you feel, Bjorn? How do you feel about being used and abandoned by a woman?"
The group sitting at the table was chuckling in vain, perhaps still drunk from the night's drinking.
At the corner where Erna had disappeared, Bjorn, who had finally turned his gaze away, answered with a chuckle and stood up. His demeanor was no different from usual. The group, which had been hesitantly observing the situation, finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“I still don’t know that kid.”
Peter, watching Bjorn's retreating figure, muttered a sigh. The rest of the group agreed with his sentiment in silence.
A lighthearted and charming prodigal son. Those who observed Bjorn from afar unanimously agreed, and that wasn't an unfounded opinion. But, well, up close, Bjorn Dneister was a man whose true feelings were hard to fathom. The more composed he smiled, the more this became apparent.
“Oh, shit. I was scared!”
Peter's cries of resentment spread through the square on the morning breeze.
The carriage carrying Bjorn, who had just left the club, began to race towards Schwerin Palace.
Bjorn leaned back in his seat and gazed out the window. The carriage, leaving the bustling downtown area lined with shops and government offices, soon entered a wide road that ran along the river. The shadows of the tall trees lining both sides of the road passed over the carriage as it sped by.
Bjorn gazed at the landscape, shadows flickering with a faint drowsiness and fatigue. The sight of the thickening greenery made him realize that summer was fast approaching. It also meant that these peaceful days would soon end.
The royal family was scheduled to arrive in Schwerin this weekend. The summer palace they would be staying in was located within the grounds of the Grand Duchess's residence. Though it was far enough away to require a carriage ride, it was still within the same walls. As a result, Bjorn was inevitably drawn into a tedious and troublesome task when the summer season arrived.
It was one of the responsibilities given along with the Grand Duchy.
While Bjorn closed his eyes for a moment, the carriage crossed the bridge spanning the River Abbey and entered the palace's driveway. Passing through a large, ornate gate adorned with the royal coat of arms, a spacious garden laid out in geometric patterns unfolded before him. The sound of water from fountains installed throughout the complex wafted on the refreshing breeze.
Bjorn opened his eyes, brushing back his hair, tousled by the wind. The Grand Duchess' residence, located at the southern end of the city where the Abbey River meets the Bay of Schwerin, was nicknamed the "Water Palace." This was due to its location, commanding views of both the river and the sea, and its gardens, adorned with numerous fountains and canals connecting the waterways.
“Are you here, Your Highness?”
As the carriage door finally opened, Madame Fitz's greeting, strangely devoid of any reprimand, was heard. Bjorn slowly stepped out of the carriage and looked at her with a questioning gaze.
“A guest has arrived.”
Mrs. Fitz, catching her breath, spoke with embarrassment.
“That is... Princess Gladys. She is waiting in the study.”
The added explanation stopped Bjorn in his tracks as he was just entering the central hall.
Bjorn slowly raised his head, his hands in his pockets. The ever-burning light of a massive chandelier stung his eyes.
“We apologize, Your Highness. We cannot...”
"I know."
Bjorn cut Mrs. Fitz off with a casual tone. He began to slowly ascend the red-carpeted stairs, showing no sign of confusion.
“I’d like a cup of tea, please. Strong.”
Bjorn gave a calm order to Mrs. Fitz, who followed with a worried expression. Unlike his gently curved lips, his eyes held no emotion.
“Yes, I will do so.”
She swallowed the countless words she wanted to say and turned away. Bjorn soon disappeared beyond the study door.
“But shouldn’t I apologize?”
Erna asked another cautious question.
“What kind of apology is that? I told you not to do that, Miss.”
Lisa's answer when she returned was even more forceful.
Erna, startled, fiddled with the teacup in her hand and became lost in thought.
She'd been haunted by the mistake she'd made to the Prince at the ball, and wanted to apologize, but she'd never found a suitable opportunity. He was always surrounded by people, and Erna couldn't muster the courage to approach him.
Perhaps even if he had been alone, the outcome would have been the same, Erna thought, looking down at her trembling fingertips. Just meeting the Prince's eyes brought back memories of that day, and her heart sank.
How could she ever see the Prince's face again after seeing him like that right in front of her nose?
No matter how hard she steeled herself, when she came to her senses, Erna was always running away in a hurry. And then, without fail, that outrageous debutante dress would come to mind. And the man's calm gaze, casually scanning her half-naked body, was there too.
What a vulgar place the big city really is!
"Still, I feel like I owe him an apology, Lisa. I know I caused him a lot of trouble."
Erna, lost in thought for a moment, gave the same answer this time. She simply lacked the courage, but it would be too mean to pretend not to know anything about her own mistakes.
“Oh, no. That won’t work. Just wait a minute, Miss.”
Lisa jumped up and hurried out of the bedroom. A moment later, she returned carrying a large box in her arms.
"This is a gift for you, young lady. You'll have to return it once you've finished reading it, though. I'd be happy to give it to you, but unfortunately, it's a public item that the maids bought with their own money."
Lisa spoke to Erna, who was looking bewildered, with a feigned seriousness.
“This to me? Why?”
"You should study. There's nothing like studying social circles. There is all kinds of news."
Lisa first held out the magazine on top of the box to Erna. It was a weekly magazine with an in-depth article about the poisonous mushroom, Prince Bjorn.
Erna took it absentmindedly. After turning a few pages, she came across a page with holes punched through it.
“This hole is...”
"Ah. It's because of those damn, no, evil maids who cut up the photos. Everyone curses so much, but if a picture of the Poisonous Mushroom Prince is published, this is what happens."
Lisa, who had been continuing to criticize the immoral maids, suddenly sat up in thought.
"Then go ahead and study, Miss! I'll be back after running some errands for Madam!"
Before she could say anything, Lisa ran out of the bedroom in a huff.
Left alone, Erna looked down at the weekly magazine on her lap, feeling a bit dazed. Even a cursory glance revealed that the gossip was quite sensational.
Torn between the conviction that it wasn't right to consume someone else's life in this way and the unshakeable curiosity that still gripped her, Erna ultimately turned the page. The photos were cut off, leaving gaps here and there, but she still had no trouble understanding the overall context of the article.
While the tea on the table cooled, Erna pored over the magazines. The various scandals and incidents of Schwerin's socialites, flashy advertisements, horoscopes, and even relationship advice—the magazines were filled with all sorts of trivia. It was a world quite shocking, a world entirely different from the country magazines she occasionally buys when she goes into town.
By the time she put down her last weekly, Erna had developed a rough idea of the troublemakers of Schwerin's high society. The most striking of these was none other than the Toadstool Prince, Bjorn Dneister.
Not everything published in these magazines is necessarily true, but even setting that aside, his life was far beyond Erna's comprehension. Above all, it was the fact that he was a father who abandoned his own child.
The Prince said he hadn't seen his son since his divorce from Princess Gladys. The child died of illness before he could live more than a few years, and the Prince even ignored his poor son's funeral.
Erna, quietly looking down at the stack of magazines, unconsciously bit her lip. It was rash to judge someone you barely knew, but her heart had already tilted.
The Prince seemed like a bad person. A very bad person.
"Miss, have you ever been to that beach over there? The sunset there is really pretty. Should we go there this evening? No. You're still a little sore, so the night air must be unpleasant. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be getting excited by myself."
Lisa's face, once radiant with excitement, suddenly shifted to concern. Erna, who had been walking, listening intently to their chatter as if listening to a pleasant song, suddenly stopped and raised her head.
“It’s okay now, Lisa. It doesn’t hurt.”
"Really? Your face is still so pale. Ah. You're naturally as white as snow."
Lisa, who had been tilting her head, burst into a cheerful laugh. It was a smile that made Erna feel good just by looking at it.
Erna followed Lisa, who began to describe the city's sights again, walking briskly. It was still early morning, so most shops were closed. Thanks to this, the streets were deserted, allowing Erna to enjoy a leisurely stroll.
After returning from the royal ball, Erna lay in bed for three full days. Even the Viscountess, who had been feigning illness, urgently summoned a doctor when her fever showed no signs of abating. While not particularly strong, she wasn't this weak. It seemed her body couldn't handle the sudden change in her life.
Will I be able to survive this year?
When she recalled the terrifying ball, her heart pounded faster. She tried to explain to the doctor the pain of that day, when her vision went blank and she couldn't breathe. But all she got was a dismissive response, that it was just a common neurosis. They told her to get used to it and be okay. So, just relax.
Although it seemed impossible, Erna obediently agreed. She had already made a promise, and hadn't she been paid for it? Therefore, Erna had a duty to fulfill her role as the Hardy family's daughter for a year. She had to do so, if only to uphold her grandfather and grandmother's honor.
“Hello, Miss Hardy!”
Just as she steeled her resolve once more, a loud shout rang out. Erna instinctively shrugged her shoulders and looked around. Behind the fountain, on the terrace of a splendid building, a strange man was waving loudly.
"Good morning!"
The man greeted Erna, who was looking bewildered, again with a loud voice. The men sitting around the table behind him all turned their gazes to Erna.
Erna, who had been observing them intently, gasped and took a step back, unconsciously sighing. Her eyes met with the blond man sitting with his chin tilted against his head.
The only familiar face was the Poison Mushroom Prince.
***
Look at that.
A new, hollow laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he watched Erna Hardy's back as she marched off. He felt like he'd been laughing more and more frequently lately. It was all thanks to that strange property the swindled Viscount had put up for sale.
Erna, who had awkwardly greeted Peter, quickly hid behind the maid. More accurately, it was the maid who had stopped her. After a moment of confusion, Erna turned around and began to run away. The voluminous frills and lace that followed her hurried footsteps made her desperate escape seem even more absurd.
“That maid is that hell dog.”
Peter shook his head and turned away.
"Still, the fact that he ran away after seeing Bjorn is a small consolation. My face isn't the problem."
“Yeah, that’s true.”
"It seems clear that nothing is really going on between them. So, was Bjorn being used by Miss Hardy? As a means to attract attention at the ball?"
"Even the Grand Duke has such a day. How do you feel, Bjorn? How do you feel about being used and abandoned by a woman?"
The group sitting at the table was chuckling in vain, perhaps still drunk from the night's drinking.
At the corner where Erna had disappeared, Bjorn, who had finally turned his gaze away, answered with a chuckle and stood up. His demeanor was no different from usual. The group, which had been hesitantly observing the situation, finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“I still don’t know that kid.”
Peter, watching Bjorn's retreating figure, muttered a sigh. The rest of the group agreed with his sentiment in silence.
A lighthearted and charming prodigal son. Those who observed Bjorn from afar unanimously agreed, and that wasn't an unfounded opinion. But, well, up close, Bjorn Dneister was a man whose true feelings were hard to fathom. The more composed he smiled, the more this became apparent.
“Oh, shit. I was scared!”
Peter's cries of resentment spread through the square on the morning breeze.
***
The carriage carrying Bjorn, who had just left the club, began to race towards Schwerin Palace.
Bjorn leaned back in his seat and gazed out the window. The carriage, leaving the bustling downtown area lined with shops and government offices, soon entered a wide road that ran along the river. The shadows of the tall trees lining both sides of the road passed over the carriage as it sped by.
Bjorn gazed at the landscape, shadows flickering with a faint drowsiness and fatigue. The sight of the thickening greenery made him realize that summer was fast approaching. It also meant that these peaceful days would soon end.
The royal family was scheduled to arrive in Schwerin this weekend. The summer palace they would be staying in was located within the grounds of the Grand Duchess's residence. Though it was far enough away to require a carriage ride, it was still within the same walls. As a result, Bjorn was inevitably drawn into a tedious and troublesome task when the summer season arrived.
It was one of the responsibilities given along with the Grand Duchy.
While Bjorn closed his eyes for a moment, the carriage crossed the bridge spanning the River Abbey and entered the palace's driveway. Passing through a large, ornate gate adorned with the royal coat of arms, a spacious garden laid out in geometric patterns unfolded before him. The sound of water from fountains installed throughout the complex wafted on the refreshing breeze.
Bjorn opened his eyes, brushing back his hair, tousled by the wind. The Grand Duchess' residence, located at the southern end of the city where the Abbey River meets the Bay of Schwerin, was nicknamed the "Water Palace." This was due to its location, commanding views of both the river and the sea, and its gardens, adorned with numerous fountains and canals connecting the waterways.
“Are you here, Your Highness?”
As the carriage door finally opened, Madame Fitz's greeting, strangely devoid of any reprimand, was heard. Bjorn slowly stepped out of the carriage and looked at her with a questioning gaze.
“A guest has arrived.”
Mrs. Fitz, catching her breath, spoke with embarrassment.
“That is... Princess Gladys. She is waiting in the study.”
The added explanation stopped Bjorn in his tracks as he was just entering the central hall.
Bjorn slowly raised his head, his hands in his pockets. The ever-burning light of a massive chandelier stung his eyes.
“We apologize, Your Highness. We cannot...”
"I know."
Bjorn cut Mrs. Fitz off with a casual tone. He began to slowly ascend the red-carpeted stairs, showing no sign of confusion.
“I’d like a cup of tea, please. Strong.”
Bjorn gave a calm order to Mrs. Fitz, who followed with a worried expression. Unlike his gently curved lips, his eyes held no emotion.
“Yes, I will do so.”
She swallowed the countless words she wanted to say and turned away. Bjorn soon disappeared beyond the study door.
***
“But shouldn’t I apologize?”
Erna asked another cautious question.
“What kind of apology is that? I told you not to do that, Miss.”
Lisa's answer when she returned was even more forceful.
Erna, startled, fiddled with the teacup in her hand and became lost in thought.
She'd been haunted by the mistake she'd made to the Prince at the ball, and wanted to apologize, but she'd never found a suitable opportunity. He was always surrounded by people, and Erna couldn't muster the courage to approach him.
Perhaps even if he had been alone, the outcome would have been the same, Erna thought, looking down at her trembling fingertips. Just meeting the Prince's eyes brought back memories of that day, and her heart sank.
How could she ever see the Prince's face again after seeing him like that right in front of her nose?
No matter how hard she steeled herself, when she came to her senses, Erna was always running away in a hurry. And then, without fail, that outrageous debutante dress would come to mind. And the man's calm gaze, casually scanning her half-naked body, was there too.
What a vulgar place the big city really is!
"Still, I feel like I owe him an apology, Lisa. I know I caused him a lot of trouble."
Erna, lost in thought for a moment, gave the same answer this time. She simply lacked the courage, but it would be too mean to pretend not to know anything about her own mistakes.
“Oh, no. That won’t work. Just wait a minute, Miss.”
Lisa jumped up and hurried out of the bedroom. A moment later, she returned carrying a large box in her arms.
"This is a gift for you, young lady. You'll have to return it once you've finished reading it, though. I'd be happy to give it to you, but unfortunately, it's a public item that the maids bought with their own money."
Lisa spoke to Erna, who was looking bewildered, with a feigned seriousness.
“This to me? Why?”
"You should study. There's nothing like studying social circles. There is all kinds of news."
Lisa first held out the magazine on top of the box to Erna. It was a weekly magazine with an in-depth article about the poisonous mushroom, Prince Bjorn.
Erna took it absentmindedly. After turning a few pages, she came across a page with holes punched through it.
“This hole is...”
"Ah. It's because of those damn, no, evil maids who cut up the photos. Everyone curses so much, but if a picture of the Poisonous Mushroom Prince is published, this is what happens."
Lisa, who had been continuing to criticize the immoral maids, suddenly sat up in thought.
"Then go ahead and study, Miss! I'll be back after running some errands for Madam!"
Before she could say anything, Lisa ran out of the bedroom in a huff.
Left alone, Erna looked down at the weekly magazine on her lap, feeling a bit dazed. Even a cursory glance revealed that the gossip was quite sensational.
Torn between the conviction that it wasn't right to consume someone else's life in this way and the unshakeable curiosity that still gripped her, Erna ultimately turned the page. The photos were cut off, leaving gaps here and there, but she still had no trouble understanding the overall context of the article.
While the tea on the table cooled, Erna pored over the magazines. The various scandals and incidents of Schwerin's socialites, flashy advertisements, horoscopes, and even relationship advice—the magazines were filled with all sorts of trivia. It was a world quite shocking, a world entirely different from the country magazines she occasionally buys when she goes into town.
By the time she put down her last weekly, Erna had developed a rough idea of the troublemakers of Schwerin's high society. The most striking of these was none other than the Toadstool Prince, Bjorn Dneister.
Not everything published in these magazines is necessarily true, but even setting that aside, his life was far beyond Erna's comprehension. Above all, it was the fact that he was a father who abandoned his own child.
The Prince said he hadn't seen his son since his divorce from Princess Gladys. The child died of illness before he could live more than a few years, and the Prince even ignored his poor son's funeral.
Erna, quietly looking down at the stack of magazines, unconsciously bit her lip. It was rash to judge someone you barely knew, but her heart had already tilted.
The Prince seemed like a bad person. A very bad person.
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