14. Reasonable Transaction
Erna's face turned bright red as she saw the initials of her name embroidered on one corner of the handkerchief.
"...Thank you."
After a long while, Erna finally reached out with a trembling hand and accepted the handkerchief. It was hard to believe she was the kind of woman who would resort to such classic tricks, leaving behind such a thing.
Bjorn watched the woman's reaction with interest.
A brazen woman trying to increase her own value by exploiting him, and a woman strutting down the street in a tacky dress. And now, between this woman, who was so skillfully imitating a virtuous lady, it was hard to tell which was the real Erna Hardy. He could understand, to a certain extent, the fools who fell for her. At least on the outside, she was the most innocent and innocent lady in the world.
“Would you grant me the honor of appreciating the painting with the Young Lady?”
When he judged that everyone's attention was sufficiently focused, Bjorn politely extended his hand. Erna, who had been waiting for an opportunity to escape, gasped in shock and let out a short sigh. The unusually red lips seemed to be due to the woman's excessively pale complexion.
Yes?
Bjorn looked down at Erna, who was unable to speak and was asking with her lips, and smiled calmly.
“Yes, let’s go.”
Bjorn took the still woman's hand and placed it on his own. He could use her as much as she was used, so there couldn't have been a more tidy and fair transaction.
Bjorn, as if in awe, escorted Erna away, then turned around. Through the tumultuous crowd of onlookers, he saw Gladys, pale with shock. She looked much more presentable than before, when she had been imitating her beloved Crown Princess days.
Before tonight, the rumor will spread throughout the city.
Prince Bjorn flirted with another woman in front of Princess Gladys, who had come to offer her forgiveness and a reunion. Erna Hardy, no less, the woman who would soon be sold off for money. Of course, Bjorn didn't care what speculations and accusations poured in. There couldn't be a more disturbing rumor than talk of a reunion with Gladys.
Bjorn firmly grasped the woman's arm, which offered weak resistance. It was then that Erna suddenly raised her head. Her blue eyes, framed by long, dense eyelashes, had a somewhat unrealistic, almost ethereal glow.
Erna, who had been staring at him with those eyes, soon lowered her head again. As if she had decided that there was nothing to lose.
Having reached a refreshing conclusion, Bjorn led the stiffly frozen woman through the crowd, walking slowly and providing ample spectacle.
You, you little shit!
As he turned his head to avoid the persistent gaze that followed him, he saw Peter spewing curses from his mouth.
Hey! You're going to do it too? Really?
Peter asked, as if he were astonished.
Bjorn nodded without hesitation, then lowered his gaze to the woman swaying beside him. Erna was walking forward, her eyes focused solely on the road. Now, not only her cheeks, but even her earlobes and eyes were flushed red.
“Who the hell is that girl?”
Philip Dneister's face hardened with bewilderment as he looked at his wife. He'd avoided the worst possible outcome, which would involve Bjorn and Gladys, but considering the rumors already circulating, it was hard to see the situation as entirely optimistic.
“It’s Erna Hardy, Father.”
Louise answered on behalf of the Queen, her face pierced with anger.
“She is the daughter of the Hardy family, who used brother Bjorn to attract attention at the royal ball.”
Louise's added explanation darkened the King's face even further. The Queen, who had been quietly listening to their conversation, turned her gaze toward the entrance of the hall where the two had disappeared.
She knew Bjorn wouldn't simply accept Gladys's greeting, but she never expected it to be like this. It would have been far more like him to just turn around and leave.
"How can you be so shameless? A handkerchief! What kind of brother would fall for such an obvious, low-level trick?"
“Let it be, Louise. Many ears are listening.”
Isabelle Dneister reassured her agitated daughter with soft, forceful words. Louise, though still with much to say, could no longer resist and withdrew.
“I should find out about that girl.”
Isabelle Dneister, having confirmed that Louise had returned to her husband, lowered her voice and whispered.
“Don’t you think that’s what it should be?”
She looked at her husband with a polite, gentle smile.
The King did not deny it.
“You go back first.”
Erna finally opened her mouth after reaching the final exhibition hall. For a first word she struggled to utter, it was quite audacious.
Bjorn lowered his gaze from his vacant glance at the painting to look at Erna. Erna, too, straightened her neck and faced him. Her eyes were firm, unlike when she had fled in fear.
"Now that you've seen the painting, you may go back first, Prince. I will stay here a little longer."
Erna repeated slowly, as if worried that he might not understand.
"Why?"
Bjorn's gaze scanned her regularly rising and falling chest and the blue veins on her neck, then stopped on her strangely nerve-wracking blue eyes. This time, too, Erna didn't avert her gaze.
“Are there any more paintings left to see?”
“No, that’s not it.”
"Then?"
“You asked me to look at the paintings together, and now that I have seen all the paintings on display, I think my role is complete.”
Her tone was harsh, as if she were angry, but unfortunately, it wasn't threatening at all.
Bjorn, who had been doggedly pursuing the onlookers, took a step forward toward Erna. Startled, Erna tried to back away, but Bjorn was quicker, grabbing her arm.
“Stay the same.”
Bjorn bowed his head deeply and whispered.
“Many ears are listening.”
Erna, following the gesture he sent, looked around and soon became docile. From a distance, he must have seemed quite affectionate and secretive.
“Are you angry?”
Bjorn's low whispering voice was soft, quite different from his mischievous expression.
"No."
Erna also lowered her voice and whispered. The woman, with her frowning expression and her obvious lies, made him laugh.
“Is that so? You look really angry to me.”
“No, Your Highness.”
Erna now squinted her eyes, even to the point of swearing.
“I also caused great trouble to the Prince at the palace ball, so I will consider today’s incident as an attempt to make up for that mistake.”
“Mistake? Recover?”
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman who was playing as if she were looking at him.
“I’m sorry I bothered you, Miss Hardy, but do you mean to say that you understand, considering what happened before?”
“...”
“Since we each gave each other one, it’s fair now, is that the calculation?”
“...”
“You were quite a calculating lady.”
Bjorn, watching Erna with her mouth firmly shut, found himself chuckling. Though timid and trembling, she managed to utter her words, one by one.
As expected, this type of person is actually a beast.
“Yes. I guess we made a reasonable deal.”
Bjorn nodded and let Erna go. He had intended to let her go now that she had served her purpose. Until he saw Erna's obvious expression of relief.
Bjorn, who had been about to turn away, quickly snatched the small, lace-gloved hand from her. It wasn't until Bjorn's lips touched the back of her hand that Erna realized what had happened.
The once-quiet exhibition hall erupted in a commotion as those who had been observing the two pretended to admire the paintings erupted in cheers. Bjorn, oblivious to the commotion, bowed respectfully, as if addressing a Princess, and kissed the back of Erna's hand.
“Then I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn left, leaving a sweet goodbye, as if saying goodbye to a lover. Seeing Erna's face flushed bright red again, his spirits lifted.
Leaving Erna glaring at him, Bjorn left the exhibition hall without a second thought. Peter and his companions were waiting for him in the hallway, as expected.
"What, you? What did you say? Did you say you'd meet again?"
“Don’t pay attention to my pack.”
Bjorn, who had responded dryly, began to walk slowly down the hallway.
"You're really going to do this? How much money have you taken from us in card games? Do you feel bad about losing a small amount? Do you feel bad about losing?"
"Half of that stake would be mine, right? I would have won if you hadn't offered that stupid bet."
Bjorn's retort made Leonard flinch. At least on that point, there was no room for argument.
"Look at this. Those who have a lot are scarier. This bastard with a pure lust for money."
Peter stuck out his tongue and exclaimed in admiration.
"You're tempting another woman in front of your ex-wife because you're afraid of losing money. This is the way to live if you want to be rich. Anyway, what are you going to do now? Everyone's probably going to curse you like they're going to kill you."
“What does it matter?”
“What about Miss Hardy?”
“Ah. Are you so worried about Erna Hardy that you made that bet?”
Bjorn cut off the half-hearted pity with a mocking retort. The group, speechless, averted their gaze as if behaving differently. Thanks to the arrival of the Royal Academy of Arts, the silence between them didn't last long.
He spotted Bjorn and hurried over to greet him. The young man beside him also joined him.
"This is Pavel Lore, my student who won an award at this year's art exhibition. He's the most promising talent at the Academy of Arts, and I wanted to introduce him to Your Highness the Grand Duke."
The art director introduced his student with a proud smile. Meeting Bjorn's eyes, he bowed his head again, a gesture of humility. The sturdy, red-haired man looked more like a soldier than an artist.
Bjorn responded to their greetings with appropriate courtesy. Art, after all, was outside his purview. Whoever the talented painter who would lead the new era was, it was none of his business. If the value of their work soared, that would be a different story.
Bjorn finished his brief nod and passed them by. It wasn't until he reached the end of the hallway that the painter's name came to mind again.
“Pavel.”
The name the woman wandering through the garden had desperately called out flowed from between Bjorn's lips as he suddenly stopped. Peter and his companions, who had been exchanging lame jokes, also stopped walking.
“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”
Leonard asked a question discreetly, but Bjorn didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head and looked back down the path they had walked.
The director of the art academy and Pavel Lore were just entering the exhibition room at the end of the hallway. It was the very room where he had left the woman.
Erna's face turned bright red as she saw the initials of her name embroidered on one corner of the handkerchief.
"...Thank you."
After a long while, Erna finally reached out with a trembling hand and accepted the handkerchief. It was hard to believe she was the kind of woman who would resort to such classic tricks, leaving behind such a thing.
Bjorn watched the woman's reaction with interest.
A brazen woman trying to increase her own value by exploiting him, and a woman strutting down the street in a tacky dress. And now, between this woman, who was so skillfully imitating a virtuous lady, it was hard to tell which was the real Erna Hardy. He could understand, to a certain extent, the fools who fell for her. At least on the outside, she was the most innocent and innocent lady in the world.
“Would you grant me the honor of appreciating the painting with the Young Lady?”
When he judged that everyone's attention was sufficiently focused, Bjorn politely extended his hand. Erna, who had been waiting for an opportunity to escape, gasped in shock and let out a short sigh. The unusually red lips seemed to be due to the woman's excessively pale complexion.
Yes?
Bjorn looked down at Erna, who was unable to speak and was asking with her lips, and smiled calmly.
“Yes, let’s go.”
Bjorn took the still woman's hand and placed it on his own. He could use her as much as she was used, so there couldn't have been a more tidy and fair transaction.
Bjorn, as if in awe, escorted Erna away, then turned around. Through the tumultuous crowd of onlookers, he saw Gladys, pale with shock. She looked much more presentable than before, when she had been imitating her beloved Crown Princess days.
Before tonight, the rumor will spread throughout the city.
Prince Bjorn flirted with another woman in front of Princess Gladys, who had come to offer her forgiveness and a reunion. Erna Hardy, no less, the woman who would soon be sold off for money. Of course, Bjorn didn't care what speculations and accusations poured in. There couldn't be a more disturbing rumor than talk of a reunion with Gladys.
Bjorn firmly grasped the woman's arm, which offered weak resistance. It was then that Erna suddenly raised her head. Her blue eyes, framed by long, dense eyelashes, had a somewhat unrealistic, almost ethereal glow.
Erna, who had been staring at him with those eyes, soon lowered her head again. As if she had decided that there was nothing to lose.
Having reached a refreshing conclusion, Bjorn led the stiffly frozen woman through the crowd, walking slowly and providing ample spectacle.
You, you little shit!
As he turned his head to avoid the persistent gaze that followed him, he saw Peter spewing curses from his mouth.
Hey! You're going to do it too? Really?
Peter asked, as if he were astonished.
Bjorn nodded without hesitation, then lowered his gaze to the woman swaying beside him. Erna was walking forward, her eyes focused solely on the road. Now, not only her cheeks, but even her earlobes and eyes were flushed red.
***
“Who the hell is that girl?”
Philip Dneister's face hardened with bewilderment as he looked at his wife. He'd avoided the worst possible outcome, which would involve Bjorn and Gladys, but considering the rumors already circulating, it was hard to see the situation as entirely optimistic.
“It’s Erna Hardy, Father.”
Louise answered on behalf of the Queen, her face pierced with anger.
“She is the daughter of the Hardy family, who used brother Bjorn to attract attention at the royal ball.”
Louise's added explanation darkened the King's face even further. The Queen, who had been quietly listening to their conversation, turned her gaze toward the entrance of the hall where the two had disappeared.
She knew Bjorn wouldn't simply accept Gladys's greeting, but she never expected it to be like this. It would have been far more like him to just turn around and leave.
"How can you be so shameless? A handkerchief! What kind of brother would fall for such an obvious, low-level trick?"
“Let it be, Louise. Many ears are listening.”
Isabelle Dneister reassured her agitated daughter with soft, forceful words. Louise, though still with much to say, could no longer resist and withdrew.
“I should find out about that girl.”
Isabelle Dneister, having confirmed that Louise had returned to her husband, lowered her voice and whispered.
“Don’t you think that’s what it should be?”
She looked at her husband with a polite, gentle smile.
The King did not deny it.
***
“You go back first.”
Erna finally opened her mouth after reaching the final exhibition hall. For a first word she struggled to utter, it was quite audacious.
Bjorn lowered his gaze from his vacant glance at the painting to look at Erna. Erna, too, straightened her neck and faced him. Her eyes were firm, unlike when she had fled in fear.
"Now that you've seen the painting, you may go back first, Prince. I will stay here a little longer."
Erna repeated slowly, as if worried that he might not understand.
"Why?"
Bjorn's gaze scanned her regularly rising and falling chest and the blue veins on her neck, then stopped on her strangely nerve-wracking blue eyes. This time, too, Erna didn't avert her gaze.
“Are there any more paintings left to see?”
“No, that’s not it.”
"Then?"
“You asked me to look at the paintings together, and now that I have seen all the paintings on display, I think my role is complete.”
Her tone was harsh, as if she were angry, but unfortunately, it wasn't threatening at all.
Bjorn, who had been doggedly pursuing the onlookers, took a step forward toward Erna. Startled, Erna tried to back away, but Bjorn was quicker, grabbing her arm.
“Stay the same.”
Bjorn bowed his head deeply and whispered.
“Many ears are listening.”
Erna, following the gesture he sent, looked around and soon became docile. From a distance, he must have seemed quite affectionate and secretive.
“Are you angry?”
Bjorn's low whispering voice was soft, quite different from his mischievous expression.
"No."
Erna also lowered her voice and whispered. The woman, with her frowning expression and her obvious lies, made him laugh.
“Is that so? You look really angry to me.”
“No, Your Highness.”
Erna now squinted her eyes, even to the point of swearing.
“I also caused great trouble to the Prince at the palace ball, so I will consider today’s incident as an attempt to make up for that mistake.”
“Mistake? Recover?”
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman who was playing as if she were looking at him.
“I’m sorry I bothered you, Miss Hardy, but do you mean to say that you understand, considering what happened before?”
“...”
“Since we each gave each other one, it’s fair now, is that the calculation?”
“...”
“You were quite a calculating lady.”
Bjorn, watching Erna with her mouth firmly shut, found himself chuckling. Though timid and trembling, she managed to utter her words, one by one.
As expected, this type of person is actually a beast.
“Yes. I guess we made a reasonable deal.”
Bjorn nodded and let Erna go. He had intended to let her go now that she had served her purpose. Until he saw Erna's obvious expression of relief.
Bjorn, who had been about to turn away, quickly snatched the small, lace-gloved hand from her. It wasn't until Bjorn's lips touched the back of her hand that Erna realized what had happened.
The once-quiet exhibition hall erupted in a commotion as those who had been observing the two pretended to admire the paintings erupted in cheers. Bjorn, oblivious to the commotion, bowed respectfully, as if addressing a Princess, and kissed the back of Erna's hand.
“Then I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn left, leaving a sweet goodbye, as if saying goodbye to a lover. Seeing Erna's face flushed bright red again, his spirits lifted.
Leaving Erna glaring at him, Bjorn left the exhibition hall without a second thought. Peter and his companions were waiting for him in the hallway, as expected.
"What, you? What did you say? Did you say you'd meet again?"
“Don’t pay attention to my pack.”
Bjorn, who had responded dryly, began to walk slowly down the hallway.
"You're really going to do this? How much money have you taken from us in card games? Do you feel bad about losing a small amount? Do you feel bad about losing?"
"Half of that stake would be mine, right? I would have won if you hadn't offered that stupid bet."
Bjorn's retort made Leonard flinch. At least on that point, there was no room for argument.
"Look at this. Those who have a lot are scarier. This bastard with a pure lust for money."
Peter stuck out his tongue and exclaimed in admiration.
"You're tempting another woman in front of your ex-wife because you're afraid of losing money. This is the way to live if you want to be rich. Anyway, what are you going to do now? Everyone's probably going to curse you like they're going to kill you."
“What does it matter?”
“What about Miss Hardy?”
“Ah. Are you so worried about Erna Hardy that you made that bet?”
Bjorn cut off the half-hearted pity with a mocking retort. The group, speechless, averted their gaze as if behaving differently. Thanks to the arrival of the Royal Academy of Arts, the silence between them didn't last long.
He spotted Bjorn and hurried over to greet him. The young man beside him also joined him.
"This is Pavel Lore, my student who won an award at this year's art exhibition. He's the most promising talent at the Academy of Arts, and I wanted to introduce him to Your Highness the Grand Duke."
The art director introduced his student with a proud smile. Meeting Bjorn's eyes, he bowed his head again, a gesture of humility. The sturdy, red-haired man looked more like a soldier than an artist.
Bjorn responded to their greetings with appropriate courtesy. Art, after all, was outside his purview. Whoever the talented painter who would lead the new era was, it was none of his business. If the value of their work soared, that would be a different story.
Bjorn finished his brief nod and passed them by. It wasn't until he reached the end of the hallway that the painter's name came to mind again.
“Pavel.”
The name the woman wandering through the garden had desperately called out flowed from between Bjorn's lips as he suddenly stopped. Peter and his companions, who had been exchanging lame jokes, also stopped walking.
“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”
Leonard asked a question discreetly, but Bjorn didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head and looked back down the path they had walked.
The director of the art academy and Pavel Lore were just entering the exhibition room at the end of the hallway. It was the very room where he had left the woman.
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