16. The stolen loot
Erna, who had fallen asleep late at night, woke up much earlier than usual. It was due to a disturbing nightmare. The dream faded the moment she awoke, but the memory of being chased by something remained vivid.
It must have been a very large beast...
Erna, who had been staring blankly into space, mulling over her dream, suddenly sat up. She turned on the lamp on the bedside table, its warm light dimming the darkness. The desk clock showed it wasn't even four o'clock yet.
Erna, giving up on trying to sleep again, got out of bed. After she finished tidying herself and even made the bed neatly, dawn began to gradually break.
Erna stood before the window, looking down at the neatly laid-out garden. The countryside, awash in crimson poppies at this time of year, loomed above the landscape. It struck her as odd that where there should have been a pond with water lilies and an orchard beyond, there were tall stone buildings. The frequent moments of absentminded reminiscence about Burford were probably due to the nostalgia brought on by her encounter with Pavel.
As if trying to calm her weakening heart, Erna turned away from the window. Normally, she would have spent her days arranging flowers and waiting for the mansion's morning to begin, but today, the motivation simply wasn't there. It was as the pale dawn light filtered through the gaps in the curtains that the thought of going for a walk occurred to her.
With the conclusion reached, Erna began to move diligently. She braided her hair into a single braid, put on a bonnet, and even grabbed her gloves. Normally, she would have chosen lace gloves with beaded cuffs, but today she decided to wear something different. It was a moment that made her resent the Prince for having done such a terrible thing to her most prized gloves.
Erna rubbed the back of her hand, her bare, gloved hand unawares. She felt as if she was about to sneeze.
Erna came to the reasonable conclusion that she would have to reduce the bouquet a bit.
Erna finished her preparations by tying a large corsage to her shawl and tiptoed out of the bedroom. The Viscountess had said it was unbecoming of a noblewoman to wander outside without a maid, but it was too early to wake Lisa. Now that she had learned the area, she could easily take a walk alone.
Having safely escaped Hardy mansion, Erna looked up at the still-starry dawn sky and caught her breath. The streets were still dim, but it wasn't as scary as she'd imagined. She felt more at ease now than during the day, when pedestrians were crowded. Free from the distractions, the streetscape finally came into focus.
Erna began walking slowly down Tara Avenue at dawn, considering sending a letter to Pavel first. Since there was an address on the letter Pavel had brought from Burford, she thought it would be a good idea to go there in person.
But wouldn't that be a problem for Pavel?
Erna felt a sense of relief as she recalled Pavel, who had been keeping his distance, conscious of the gaze of others. It was then that she discovered the collapsed vagrant.
Erna, who had absentmindedly turned her gaze toward the clock tower, let out a small scream and stepped back. A man lay on the railing of the large fountain in the center of the square.
Erna, startled and about to run away, turned her head, gripped by an ominous premonition. The man's arm, seemingly dead, dangled limply beneath the railing. No matter how she looked, he didn't appear to be conscious.
Erna, who had been wandering around the empty square, cautiously approached the fountain. A tall, blond man lay there, his face covered by one arm. A strangely shaped, golden object lay rolling at his feet.
In a crime novel in a newspaper, Lisa had recently brought her, and Erna had seen a passage describing a scene similar to this. It was a novel about a detective identifying the body of a man who had been attacked by an unknown assailant late at night.
Was this man attacked, too?
Erna, suddenly frightened, ran hurriedly to the homeless man.
“Excuse me, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Erna asked anxiously, standing a step away. The man didn't move an inch.
"Where does it hurt? Are you hurt? Should I call someone?"
As Erna took one last step closer, the man lowered the arm that had been covering his face.
The relief that he wasn't dead was fleeting. Erna, meeting his gaze, bitterly regretted her choice, swept up in needless worry and pity. The man lying there, collapsed, was the very man she never wanted to meet: Prince Bjorn.
Erna hurriedly stepped back, but Bjorn's movements in grabbing her wrist were a little faster.
“Erna Hardy?”
He sighed and slowly called Erna's name. Only then did Erna realize why the Prince was lying in the square like this. He reeked of alcohol, thick enough to give her a headache. Just smelling it was enough to make her drunk.
“Why are you here, Miss Hardy?”
He asked with a chuckle, still clutching Erna's wrist.
“Put this down! Or I’ll scream!”
“I asked you why you are here.”
The more Erna tried to pull her wrist away, the stronger Bjorn's grip became.
"This isn't the Prince's private estate, it's a square. I can come here whenever I want!"
“...Well, that’s true.”
Nodding, Bjorn slowly rose and sat down on the fountain railing. Seeing Erna's bright red face before him, he burst into laughter again.
The stars were shining, his consciousness was clouded, and there was Erna.
For a while, he thought he was hallucinating. There was no way he could meet the daughter of the Hardy family at this time and place. But the Erna before his eyes was the real Erna, and Bjorn suddenly found it unbearably funny.
“Let me go!”
While he was trying to regain consciousness, Erna screamed again.
“If you need help, I can call someone. So please, let go of my hand...”
Bjorn, his head bowed and breathing slowly, asked in a low, hushed voice. Erna, who had been flailing her arms, finally calmed down.
“...What did you say?”
When the woman with the innocent face asked back entered his sight, he laughed again. She had been so arrogant, talking about reasonable deals, but today she was chasing him again, which was incredibly amusing.
"You're trying to take advantage of the rumors? I understand, but doing something like this in the morning dew is a bit too blatant. Don't you agree, Miss Hardy?"
"You're drunk. This conversation is rude and unpleasant. Please let it go."
“If you want to make a deal, you have to bargain first.”
Bjorn staggered to his feet and faced Erna.
“How much is it?”
Bjorn, who had been closing his eyes, opened them and asked softly. His gray eyes, unusual for someone so drunk, gleamed in the faint dawn light.
“Right now, what the hell, me...”
Erna couldn't speak properly, only letting out a groan-like sigh. Meanwhile, Bjorn took a step closer.
“How much does it cost? Tell me.”
Erna realized, thanks to the Prince, that when she felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation, all her senses became numb. She felt like hurling insults, but no sound came out. Her mind went blank, and the pain in her wrists, where she had been held, faded.
“I don’t want to have this insulting conversation anymore. Please stop.”
After a long pause, Erna finally spoke. Bjorn, who had been staring at the distant dawning sky, slowly lowered his gaze to meet Erna's again. His gaze was terribly indifferent.
“What if you don’t like it?”
“Your Highness, don’t you know what a proper line is?”
Erna shouted in anger.
“Do you think you know?”
Bjorn calmly asked back, his lips drawn with a sharp sneer. A sudden choking sensation left Erna unable to continue.
How could such a prodigal son, a mess of a son, ever be the Crown Prince of this country?
The shock of that fact sends a shiver down her spine. Meanwhile, Bjorn, who seemed about to say something again, closed his eyes. By the time Erna realized something was off, his already swaying body had tilted.
Startled, Erna instinctively tried to support him, but it was impossible to withstand the large, drunken man. The two of them rolled together across the square, entangled as one.
Erna, half-conscious, only realized she was lying on the cold stone floor after the dawn sky began to brighten her eyes. She also realized the Prince was lying on top of her. His breath tickled the back of her neck. His body, pressed against her, was incredibly hot and firm, a threat.
“S-save me! Save me!”
Erna, barely regaining consciousness, began to scream and thrash with all her might. But no matter how hard she pushed, Bjorn wouldn't budge. To make matters worse, she began to hear the sound of footsteps approaching from afar.
“Get out of the way! Get out of here!”
Erna clenched her fists and struck the Prince on the shoulder and back. Bjorn, who seemed to open his eyes for a moment, quickly lowered his head again. Even then, the Prince didn't let go of Erna's wrist. As his warm, soft lips brushed against the nape of her neck, Erna looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. Meanwhile, the approaching presence grew more and more distinct.
Erna turned her head in terror. Picking up the golden object that had fallen there was an instinctive choice. Beyond the desperate need to do something, Erna had no more rational thought left.
“Go away! Please go away! I don’t want to!”
Erna flailed her feet, swinging the stick she was holding. The wind blew the hem of her dress up above her knees, but she had no energy left to care.
“Please save me!”
With a shriek that grew sharper, Erna began mercilessly striking Bjorn's back with the trophy. Bjorn opened his eyes, the pain growing so intense it could overcome his intoxication. Almost simultaneously, the footsteps of those who had been so close to him suddenly stopped.
“Wow, Prince!”
The Grand Duke's coachman and servants, startled by the absurd sight, shouted.
Bjorn, his face furrowed, let out a long sigh and turned away. As he fell to the ground, Erna hurriedly stood up, still clutching the antler trophy.
"Ha..."
A laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he watched the sight with barely focused eyes.
Erna, refusing the servant's offer of support, gasped for breath and backed away. Her eyes seemed to well up with tears, but she refused to cry. What was the point of crying? Erna shuddered and even glared at him.
While the coachman and the attendant were rousing Bjorn, Erna turned and began to run away. The sound of her heels as she ran frantically echoed clearly through the stillness of the dawn.
“I... are you okay, Prince?”
The attendant, who had been observing the situation, asked hesitantly.
Bjorn slowly closed his eyes without answering. When he opened them again, Erna had already drifted farther away, across the square. The ribbon tied to the end of her braided hair swayed, swaying as if to lift him.
The last thing Bjorn saw before losing consciousness again was the golden antlers still in Erna Hardi's grasp.
In the freshly broken morning sun, his stolen loot glistened.
Erna, who had fallen asleep late at night, woke up much earlier than usual. It was due to a disturbing nightmare. The dream faded the moment she awoke, but the memory of being chased by something remained vivid.
It must have been a very large beast...
Erna, who had been staring blankly into space, mulling over her dream, suddenly sat up. She turned on the lamp on the bedside table, its warm light dimming the darkness. The desk clock showed it wasn't even four o'clock yet.
Erna, giving up on trying to sleep again, got out of bed. After she finished tidying herself and even made the bed neatly, dawn began to gradually break.
Erna stood before the window, looking down at the neatly laid-out garden. The countryside, awash in crimson poppies at this time of year, loomed above the landscape. It struck her as odd that where there should have been a pond with water lilies and an orchard beyond, there were tall stone buildings. The frequent moments of absentminded reminiscence about Burford were probably due to the nostalgia brought on by her encounter with Pavel.
As if trying to calm her weakening heart, Erna turned away from the window. Normally, she would have spent her days arranging flowers and waiting for the mansion's morning to begin, but today, the motivation simply wasn't there. It was as the pale dawn light filtered through the gaps in the curtains that the thought of going for a walk occurred to her.
With the conclusion reached, Erna began to move diligently. She braided her hair into a single braid, put on a bonnet, and even grabbed her gloves. Normally, she would have chosen lace gloves with beaded cuffs, but today she decided to wear something different. It was a moment that made her resent the Prince for having done such a terrible thing to her most prized gloves.
Erna rubbed the back of her hand, her bare, gloved hand unawares. She felt as if she was about to sneeze.
Erna came to the reasonable conclusion that she would have to reduce the bouquet a bit.
***
Erna finished her preparations by tying a large corsage to her shawl and tiptoed out of the bedroom. The Viscountess had said it was unbecoming of a noblewoman to wander outside without a maid, but it was too early to wake Lisa. Now that she had learned the area, she could easily take a walk alone.
Having safely escaped Hardy mansion, Erna looked up at the still-starry dawn sky and caught her breath. The streets were still dim, but it wasn't as scary as she'd imagined. She felt more at ease now than during the day, when pedestrians were crowded. Free from the distractions, the streetscape finally came into focus.
Erna began walking slowly down Tara Avenue at dawn, considering sending a letter to Pavel first. Since there was an address on the letter Pavel had brought from Burford, she thought it would be a good idea to go there in person.
But wouldn't that be a problem for Pavel?
Erna felt a sense of relief as she recalled Pavel, who had been keeping his distance, conscious of the gaze of others. It was then that she discovered the collapsed vagrant.
Erna, who had absentmindedly turned her gaze toward the clock tower, let out a small scream and stepped back. A man lay on the railing of the large fountain in the center of the square.
Erna, startled and about to run away, turned her head, gripped by an ominous premonition. The man's arm, seemingly dead, dangled limply beneath the railing. No matter how she looked, he didn't appear to be conscious.
Erna, who had been wandering around the empty square, cautiously approached the fountain. A tall, blond man lay there, his face covered by one arm. A strangely shaped, golden object lay rolling at his feet.
In a crime novel in a newspaper, Lisa had recently brought her, and Erna had seen a passage describing a scene similar to this. It was a novel about a detective identifying the body of a man who had been attacked by an unknown assailant late at night.
Was this man attacked, too?
Erna, suddenly frightened, ran hurriedly to the homeless man.
“Excuse me, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Erna asked anxiously, standing a step away. The man didn't move an inch.
"Where does it hurt? Are you hurt? Should I call someone?"
As Erna took one last step closer, the man lowered the arm that had been covering his face.
The relief that he wasn't dead was fleeting. Erna, meeting his gaze, bitterly regretted her choice, swept up in needless worry and pity. The man lying there, collapsed, was the very man she never wanted to meet: Prince Bjorn.
Erna hurriedly stepped back, but Bjorn's movements in grabbing her wrist were a little faster.
“Erna Hardy?”
He sighed and slowly called Erna's name. Only then did Erna realize why the Prince was lying in the square like this. He reeked of alcohol, thick enough to give her a headache. Just smelling it was enough to make her drunk.
“Why are you here, Miss Hardy?”
He asked with a chuckle, still clutching Erna's wrist.
“Put this down! Or I’ll scream!”
“I asked you why you are here.”
The more Erna tried to pull her wrist away, the stronger Bjorn's grip became.
"This isn't the Prince's private estate, it's a square. I can come here whenever I want!"
“...Well, that’s true.”
Nodding, Bjorn slowly rose and sat down on the fountain railing. Seeing Erna's bright red face before him, he burst into laughter again.
The stars were shining, his consciousness was clouded, and there was Erna.
For a while, he thought he was hallucinating. There was no way he could meet the daughter of the Hardy family at this time and place. But the Erna before his eyes was the real Erna, and Bjorn suddenly found it unbearably funny.
“Let me go!”
While he was trying to regain consciousness, Erna screamed again.
“If you need help, I can call someone. So please, let go of my hand...”
"Hey, Miss Hardy. You really want to sell yourself to me?"
“...What did you say?”
When the woman with the innocent face asked back entered his sight, he laughed again. She had been so arrogant, talking about reasonable deals, but today she was chasing him again, which was incredibly amusing.
"You're trying to take advantage of the rumors? I understand, but doing something like this in the morning dew is a bit too blatant. Don't you agree, Miss Hardy?"
"You're drunk. This conversation is rude and unpleasant. Please let it go."
“If you want to make a deal, you have to bargain first.”
Bjorn staggered to his feet and faced Erna.
“How much is it?”
Bjorn, who had been closing his eyes, opened them and asked softly. His gray eyes, unusual for someone so drunk, gleamed in the faint dawn light.
“Right now, what the hell, me...”
Erna couldn't speak properly, only letting out a groan-like sigh. Meanwhile, Bjorn took a step closer.
“How much does it cost? Tell me.”
Erna realized, thanks to the Prince, that when she felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation, all her senses became numb. She felt like hurling insults, but no sound came out. Her mind went blank, and the pain in her wrists, where she had been held, faded.
“I don’t want to have this insulting conversation anymore. Please stop.”
After a long pause, Erna finally spoke. Bjorn, who had been staring at the distant dawning sky, slowly lowered his gaze to meet Erna's again. His gaze was terribly indifferent.
“What if you don’t like it?”
“Your Highness, don’t you know what a proper line is?”
Erna shouted in anger.
“Do you think you know?”
Bjorn calmly asked back, his lips drawn with a sharp sneer. A sudden choking sensation left Erna unable to continue.
How could such a prodigal son, a mess of a son, ever be the Crown Prince of this country?
The shock of that fact sends a shiver down her spine. Meanwhile, Bjorn, who seemed about to say something again, closed his eyes. By the time Erna realized something was off, his already swaying body had tilted.
Startled, Erna instinctively tried to support him, but it was impossible to withstand the large, drunken man. The two of them rolled together across the square, entangled as one.
Erna, half-conscious, only realized she was lying on the cold stone floor after the dawn sky began to brighten her eyes. She also realized the Prince was lying on top of her. His breath tickled the back of her neck. His body, pressed against her, was incredibly hot and firm, a threat.
“S-save me! Save me!”
Erna, barely regaining consciousness, began to scream and thrash with all her might. But no matter how hard she pushed, Bjorn wouldn't budge. To make matters worse, she began to hear the sound of footsteps approaching from afar.
“Get out of the way! Get out of here!”
Erna clenched her fists and struck the Prince on the shoulder and back. Bjorn, who seemed to open his eyes for a moment, quickly lowered his head again. Even then, the Prince didn't let go of Erna's wrist. As his warm, soft lips brushed against the nape of her neck, Erna looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. Meanwhile, the approaching presence grew more and more distinct.
Erna turned her head in terror. Picking up the golden object that had fallen there was an instinctive choice. Beyond the desperate need to do something, Erna had no more rational thought left.
“Go away! Please go away! I don’t want to!”
Erna flailed her feet, swinging the stick she was holding. The wind blew the hem of her dress up above her knees, but she had no energy left to care.
“Please save me!”
With a shriek that grew sharper, Erna began mercilessly striking Bjorn's back with the trophy. Bjorn opened his eyes, the pain growing so intense it could overcome his intoxication. Almost simultaneously, the footsteps of those who had been so close to him suddenly stopped.
“Wow, Prince!”
The Grand Duke's coachman and servants, startled by the absurd sight, shouted.
Bjorn, his face furrowed, let out a long sigh and turned away. As he fell to the ground, Erna hurriedly stood up, still clutching the antler trophy.
"Ha..."
A laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he watched the sight with barely focused eyes.
Erna, refusing the servant's offer of support, gasped for breath and backed away. Her eyes seemed to well up with tears, but she refused to cry. What was the point of crying? Erna shuddered and even glared at him.
While the coachman and the attendant were rousing Bjorn, Erna turned and began to run away. The sound of her heels as she ran frantically echoed clearly through the stillness of the dawn.
“I... are you okay, Prince?”
The attendant, who had been observing the situation, asked hesitantly.
Bjorn slowly closed his eyes without answering. When he opened them again, Erna had already drifted farther away, across the square. The ribbon tied to the end of her braided hair swayed, swaying as if to lift him.
The last thing Bjorn saw before losing consciousness again was the golden antlers still in Erna Hardi's grasp.
In the freshly broken morning sun, his stolen loot glistened.
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