19. Straight Flush
The carriage carrying the Grand Duke entered the Haberdashery only after the party had already begun. Leonid and Louise, not particularly fond of the social gatherings hosted by the Marchioness Harbour, had decided not to attend, leaving Bjorn alone as the only guest from Schwerin Palace.
“You’re here, Bjorn!”
The Marchioness of Harbour, who had discovered Bjorn, who had appeared with a commotion, approached with a moved face.
Please live up to my expectations.
The blatant eagerness in her eyes made Bjorn smile. If anyone desperately hoped the party wouldn't end in disaster, it would be the Marchioness, the host of the party.
Bjorn slowly surveyed the banquet hall, exchanging pleasantries with familiar, yet bored faces. It didn't take long for him to find Erna among the crowd of laughing, chattering ladies.
Erna stood by the window in the farthest corner. She looked timid, but her eyes, roving around curiously, were quite bright. Countess Meyer, who should have been busy presenting the auction items to the bidders, was nowhere to be seen.
Bjorn watched the woman with interest. Men who approached without a mediator tried to strike up a conversation, but Erna's overly defensive attitude prevented the conversation from lasting long. Among them were several bettors at the gambling table.
“Hey, did you know Gladys was at this party too?”
Just as he was about to approach the woman, Bjorn was surrounded by unwelcoming faces. They were royal ladies who drew their vitality from meddling and nagging.
"Go say hello to her. I heard she's forgiven you. You should reunite quickly before she comes to her senses."
An old woman pointed towards Gladys, who was surrounded by followers, and gave her a serious admonition.
"Listen carefully to me, Bjorn. You may feel like you'll remain young forever, but one day, when you wake up, you'll find yourself with gray hair."
"That's right. If you keep living like that, you'll grow old and your bones will rot away, my dear. Shouldn't you start living a proper life with Gladys now?"
The torrent of complaints was no different.
Bjorn, with a constant, sly smile, waited for the storm to pass. This kind of patience was the greatest gift of the tumultuous divorce. The knowledge that he had gained something, at least, provided some solace in this damned situation.
Realizing their advice was completely unproductive, the noble ladies expressed their resignation with a deep sigh. After a polite bow, Bjorn began to approach his target with a wide stride.
Straight flush.
This was the card Leonard held before he turned the tables. It was a hand he simply couldn't lose. So now, she had to become his straight flush. Of course, he had to settle his debts first.
The Prince was approaching.
Erna, aware of the undeniable truth, began to retreat further and further into the corner. She desperately prayed that it was a misunderstanding, that the situation would lead to someone else, but the Prince's gaze remained firmly fixed on Erna.
Why on earth?
She frowned, as if asking a question, but he remained completely unfazed. He seemed unfazed by the attention focused on the two of them. It wasn't until she spotted Princess Gladys in the crowd that she realized he might actually be after her. While the humiliation of this revelation gripped him, the Prince approached Erna.
“Hello, gold thief.”
He blocked Erna's escape and offered her an absurd greeting. His gentlemanly demeanor was completely different from his usual, elegant smile. Erna quickly turned away from the Prince.
“Shouldn’t we have a conversation?”
Bjorn whispered leisurely, looking down at Erna, who desperately turned away from him. Erna merely shrugged her shoulders, still refusing to look at him.
“Isn’t that a bit too arrogant for someone who stole someone else’s stuff?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Prince.”
Erna, her cheeks flushed, retorted in a polite yet cold tone. Her detestable pretense of being a court lady made Bjorn laugh.
“What about my trophy?”
Leaning against the wall of the banquet hall like Erna, Bjorn asked a question with a sigh.
“I don’t know about that. So please go, Prince.”
“If you return my stolen trophy.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Well, that’s because you’re a thief.”
"A thief? Seriously, that's an incredibly insulting thing to say!"
Erna raised her head, her face flushed with seriousness. Bjorn gazed with interest at her large eyes, which seemed to flicker with blue flames.
“I guess you tend to forget bad memories quickly?”
“Isn’t that what the Prince is saying?”
Despite his terrified expression, her protesting tone was calm and brazen. It was this discrepancy that intrigued Bjorn, who decided to exercise his shallow patience.
“That day, that is... You committed such a heinous act, and yet you are being so rude to me today.”
Erna was acting strangely, as if she couldn't even bring herself to mention it. It was a reaction Bjorn found difficult to understand.
“No matter how drunk you are and how much you don’t remember...”
“I remember.”
Bjorn nodded nonchalantly. Erna, dazed, smiled, her lips still twitching as she spoke.
"I remember what happened at the fountain in Tara Square. Everything."
“You remember? But how...?”
"I apologize if I was excessive, Miss Hardy. It wasn't entirely my fault."
Bjorn willingly bowed his head in apology. His manner was impeccably polite, yet surprisingly arrogant.
“Now, it’s Miss Hardy’s turn.”
Despite his dazzling expression, Bjorn's gaze at Erna was calm. The chill overwhelms Erna.
“What on earth do you think I have to apologize to the Prince for?”
Erna couldn't hide the trembling in her eyes and voice. Just suppressing the urge to run away was overwhelming, leaving her with no energy left to worry about anything else.
“Maybe about the time you beat me with a trophy and then stole it and ran away?”
“That’s ridiculous! That’s...”
Erna, bristling with rage, began to refute him, but a sudden memory flashed through her mind, causing her words to trail off. She remembered the long, golden stick she'd picked up in a fit of urgency. She'd clearly struck the Prince with it, and then, in a panic, she'd run away clutching it. It seemed to resemble a trophy.
“Thank goodness. I guess you remember now.”
As Bjorn's smile grew more satisfied, Erna's face became more thoughtful.
It wasn't until after leaving the square that she realized she was holding something in her hand. The mere fact that she'd touched the man sent a shiver down her spine, and she threw the stick aside. Without looking back, she ran back to the Hardy mansion.
In other words, the object that the Prince now claims as his trophy is probably rolling around near the sewer lid on Tara Road. Assuming it's still there.
“What about my trophy?”
“...I threw it away.”
Erna barely managed to muster a voice to answer. Bjorn's eyes wavered at the completely unexpected answer.
“Thrown it away? My trophy?”
Erna nodded, her head shaking, at the question thrown with a hollow laugh.
“I threw it away on the way back.”
Straight Flush, who had stolen the golden antlers, wailed. It was then that the melody of the dance announcing the start of the first dance began to play.
Bjorn sighed deeply and reached out his hand to Erna.
“You should go first, Miss Hardy.”
"Yes?"
Erna asked, overcome with embarrassment. Bjorn was smiling with such utmost politeness that it made her feel even more chilling. Realizing he was asking her to dance, Erna desperately tried to turn away.
“If you refuse, it will only lead to a bigger misunderstanding.”
The Prince whispered to Erna in an extremely soft voice, as she was losing her mind over the increasingly absurd situation.
“There’s nothing special about dancing together at a party like this.”
Bjorn's gaze was calm as he pointed to the people walking in pairs toward the center of the hall.
“Hiding behind a pillar like this, talking alone, it’s bound to attract a lot of attention.”
His eyes, now dark in color, took in Erna again.
“But I...”
“Isn’t there much left to be said about the gold that Miss Hardy abandoned?”
Bjorn gently took Erna's hand, which was at a loss. Slowly, with the tenderness of a lover, he escorted her to the center of the hall. Gladys, standing afar, gazed at them with sorrowful eyes. Seeing her squirming as if she had witnessed her husband's infidelity, it seemed as if she had a sense of empathy for the woman who had dared to throw his gold on the street.
Passing through the onlookers, excited by the thrilling orgy, Bjorn stopped in the center of the hall. Erna was still weeping.
“Is that really gold? A golden trophy?”
Erna's hand, which had been drooping limply, regained strength. Looking directly at the woman, whose expression clearly showed a desire to deny reality, Bjorn nodded calmly. Ah. Erna's despairing sigh permeated the beautiful melody of the waltz.
"I'm sorry. I was so shocked and disoriented that day, I didn't know what it was. Seriously."
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he watched Erna apologize desperately.
"Is it so?"
"Yes! I will definitely compensate you for the damage I caused. Of course, it won't be easy right away, but if it were gold, it would be priceless. So, for now, I will... But if you give me time, I will somehow..."
“Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn calmed the rambling woman by calling her name. Only then did Erna notice the gaze focused on them, and her shoulders hunched. Bjorn, who had been watching her blankly, burst out laughing.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
Even though he knew Erna could never repay the trophy on her own, Bjorn readily accepted. The benefits he could gain from using her far outweighed the costs, so there was no reason not to be forgiving.
Being in debt means being exposed to a weakness.
Bjorn planned to exploit that weakness. She seemed to be a woman of some shamelessness, and she seemed to understand the basics of fair trade, so the game might become much easier. This woman had already put one foot in his boat.
“Really?”
Bjorn gave a generous nod to Erna, who asked incredulously.
“Look.”
Bjorn let go of Erna, took a step back, and then extended his hand again.
“Let’s start with the dance first.”
The carriage carrying the Grand Duke entered the Haberdashery only after the party had already begun. Leonid and Louise, not particularly fond of the social gatherings hosted by the Marchioness Harbour, had decided not to attend, leaving Bjorn alone as the only guest from Schwerin Palace.
“You’re here, Bjorn!”
The Marchioness of Harbour, who had discovered Bjorn, who had appeared with a commotion, approached with a moved face.
Please live up to my expectations.
The blatant eagerness in her eyes made Bjorn smile. If anyone desperately hoped the party wouldn't end in disaster, it would be the Marchioness, the host of the party.
Bjorn slowly surveyed the banquet hall, exchanging pleasantries with familiar, yet bored faces. It didn't take long for him to find Erna among the crowd of laughing, chattering ladies.
Erna stood by the window in the farthest corner. She looked timid, but her eyes, roving around curiously, were quite bright. Countess Meyer, who should have been busy presenting the auction items to the bidders, was nowhere to be seen.
Bjorn watched the woman with interest. Men who approached without a mediator tried to strike up a conversation, but Erna's overly defensive attitude prevented the conversation from lasting long. Among them were several bettors at the gambling table.
“Hey, did you know Gladys was at this party too?”
Just as he was about to approach the woman, Bjorn was surrounded by unwelcoming faces. They were royal ladies who drew their vitality from meddling and nagging.
"Go say hello to her. I heard she's forgiven you. You should reunite quickly before she comes to her senses."
An old woman pointed towards Gladys, who was surrounded by followers, and gave her a serious admonition.
"Listen carefully to me, Bjorn. You may feel like you'll remain young forever, but one day, when you wake up, you'll find yourself with gray hair."
"That's right. If you keep living like that, you'll grow old and your bones will rot away, my dear. Shouldn't you start living a proper life with Gladys now?"
The torrent of complaints was no different.
Bjorn, with a constant, sly smile, waited for the storm to pass. This kind of patience was the greatest gift of the tumultuous divorce. The knowledge that he had gained something, at least, provided some solace in this damned situation.
Realizing their advice was completely unproductive, the noble ladies expressed their resignation with a deep sigh. After a polite bow, Bjorn began to approach his target with a wide stride.
Straight flush.
This was the card Leonard held before he turned the tables. It was a hand he simply couldn't lose. So now, she had to become his straight flush. Of course, he had to settle his debts first.
***
The Prince was approaching.
Erna, aware of the undeniable truth, began to retreat further and further into the corner. She desperately prayed that it was a misunderstanding, that the situation would lead to someone else, but the Prince's gaze remained firmly fixed on Erna.
Why on earth?
She frowned, as if asking a question, but he remained completely unfazed. He seemed unfazed by the attention focused on the two of them. It wasn't until she spotted Princess Gladys in the crowd that she realized he might actually be after her. While the humiliation of this revelation gripped him, the Prince approached Erna.
“Hello, gold thief.”
He blocked Erna's escape and offered her an absurd greeting. His gentlemanly demeanor was completely different from his usual, elegant smile. Erna quickly turned away from the Prince.
“Shouldn’t we have a conversation?”
Bjorn whispered leisurely, looking down at Erna, who desperately turned away from him. Erna merely shrugged her shoulders, still refusing to look at him.
“Isn’t that a bit too arrogant for someone who stole someone else’s stuff?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Prince.”
Erna, her cheeks flushed, retorted in a polite yet cold tone. Her detestable pretense of being a court lady made Bjorn laugh.
“What about my trophy?”
Leaning against the wall of the banquet hall like Erna, Bjorn asked a question with a sigh.
“I don’t know about that. So please go, Prince.”
“If you return my stolen trophy.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Well, that’s because you’re a thief.”
"A thief? Seriously, that's an incredibly insulting thing to say!"
Erna raised her head, her face flushed with seriousness. Bjorn gazed with interest at her large eyes, which seemed to flicker with blue flames.
“I guess you tend to forget bad memories quickly?”
“Isn’t that what the Prince is saying?”
Despite his terrified expression, her protesting tone was calm and brazen. It was this discrepancy that intrigued Bjorn, who decided to exercise his shallow patience.
“That day, that is... You committed such a heinous act, and yet you are being so rude to me today.”
Erna was acting strangely, as if she couldn't even bring herself to mention it. It was a reaction Bjorn found difficult to understand.
“No matter how drunk you are and how much you don’t remember...”
“I remember.”
Bjorn nodded nonchalantly. Erna, dazed, smiled, her lips still twitching as she spoke.
"I remember what happened at the fountain in Tara Square. Everything."
“You remember? But how...?”
"I apologize if I was excessive, Miss Hardy. It wasn't entirely my fault."
Bjorn willingly bowed his head in apology. His manner was impeccably polite, yet surprisingly arrogant.
“Now, it’s Miss Hardy’s turn.”
Despite his dazzling expression, Bjorn's gaze at Erna was calm. The chill overwhelms Erna.
“What on earth do you think I have to apologize to the Prince for?”
Erna couldn't hide the trembling in her eyes and voice. Just suppressing the urge to run away was overwhelming, leaving her with no energy left to worry about anything else.
“Maybe about the time you beat me with a trophy and then stole it and ran away?”
“That’s ridiculous! That’s...”
Erna, bristling with rage, began to refute him, but a sudden memory flashed through her mind, causing her words to trail off. She remembered the long, golden stick she'd picked up in a fit of urgency. She'd clearly struck the Prince with it, and then, in a panic, she'd run away clutching it. It seemed to resemble a trophy.
“Thank goodness. I guess you remember now.”
As Bjorn's smile grew more satisfied, Erna's face became more thoughtful.
It wasn't until after leaving the square that she realized she was holding something in her hand. The mere fact that she'd touched the man sent a shiver down her spine, and she threw the stick aside. Without looking back, she ran back to the Hardy mansion.
In other words, the object that the Prince now claims as his trophy is probably rolling around near the sewer lid on Tara Road. Assuming it's still there.
“What about my trophy?”
“...I threw it away.”
Erna barely managed to muster a voice to answer. Bjorn's eyes wavered at the completely unexpected answer.
“Thrown it away? My trophy?”
Erna nodded, her head shaking, at the question thrown with a hollow laugh.
“I threw it away on the way back.”
Straight Flush, who had stolen the golden antlers, wailed. It was then that the melody of the dance announcing the start of the first dance began to play.
Bjorn sighed deeply and reached out his hand to Erna.
“You should go first, Miss Hardy.”
"Yes?"
Erna asked, overcome with embarrassment. Bjorn was smiling with such utmost politeness that it made her feel even more chilling. Realizing he was asking her to dance, Erna desperately tried to turn away.
“If you refuse, it will only lead to a bigger misunderstanding.”
The Prince whispered to Erna in an extremely soft voice, as she was losing her mind over the increasingly absurd situation.
“There’s nothing special about dancing together at a party like this.”
Bjorn's gaze was calm as he pointed to the people walking in pairs toward the center of the hall.
“Hiding behind a pillar like this, talking alone, it’s bound to attract a lot of attention.”
His eyes, now dark in color, took in Erna again.
“But I...”
“Isn’t there much left to be said about the gold that Miss Hardy abandoned?”
Bjorn gently took Erna's hand, which was at a loss. Slowly, with the tenderness of a lover, he escorted her to the center of the hall. Gladys, standing afar, gazed at them with sorrowful eyes. Seeing her squirming as if she had witnessed her husband's infidelity, it seemed as if she had a sense of empathy for the woman who had dared to throw his gold on the street.
Passing through the onlookers, excited by the thrilling orgy, Bjorn stopped in the center of the hall. Erna was still weeping.
“Is that really gold? A golden trophy?”
Erna's hand, which had been drooping limply, regained strength. Looking directly at the woman, whose expression clearly showed a desire to deny reality, Bjorn nodded calmly. Ah. Erna's despairing sigh permeated the beautiful melody of the waltz.
"I'm sorry. I was so shocked and disoriented that day, I didn't know what it was. Seriously."
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he watched Erna apologize desperately.
"Is it so?"
"Yes! I will definitely compensate you for the damage I caused. Of course, it won't be easy right away, but if it were gold, it would be priceless. So, for now, I will... But if you give me time, I will somehow..."
“Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn calmed the rambling woman by calling her name. Only then did Erna notice the gaze focused on them, and her shoulders hunched. Bjorn, who had been watching her blankly, burst out laughing.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
Even though he knew Erna could never repay the trophy on her own, Bjorn readily accepted. The benefits he could gain from using her far outweighed the costs, so there was no reason not to be forgiving.
Being in debt means being exposed to a weakness.
Bjorn planned to exploit that weakness. She seemed to be a woman of some shamelessness, and she seemed to understand the basics of fair trade, so the game might become much easier. This woman had already put one foot in his boat.
“Really?”
Bjorn gave a generous nod to Erna, who asked incredulously.
“Look.”
Bjorn let go of Erna, took a step back, and then extended his hand again.
“Let’s start with the dance first.”
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