20. Your Lost Crown
The woman moved as if walking on water. Carefully and gently, like gentle ripples on a calm, windy day.
Bjorn looked down at Erna, who seemed intent on successfully completing this waltz as if it were her life's mission, and felt a sense of emptiness. If all this was calculated acting, then she must be the greatest actress on the entire continent.
But.
When Bjorn met Gladys' eyes, who was dancing with another partner but only looking at him, a faint self-mockery filled his mouth.
That Princess was a more innocent girl than this, at least on the outside.
As his thoughts reached that point, Bjorn's mood became much lighter.
On the stage with the largest audience, he created the most convincing picture, so his summer would be peaceful. The sensational articles in cheap magazines and the mouths of the affluent who would slander him while carrying them were nothing more than trivial and meaningless.
Bjorn lowered his gaze and looked back at Erna. She was still completely focused on dancing flawlessly. The fact that she could move so effortlessly, even while stiff and tense, seemed to stem from her remarkably small and light body.
Bjorn's gaze, passing over her rosy cheeks and slender neck, paused for a moment on the woman's smooth collarbone. Her skin was exceptionally pale and clear, like the surface of porcelain.
After staring at the blue veins shining beneath for a while, Bjorn's gaze began to turn upward again. He looked at the pursed lips, the bridge of her nose, and the large, clear eyes that held him.
It was only towards the end of the dance that Erna finally looked at him. "How am I? Am I alright?" Her eyes seemed to be asking such desperate questions.
Bjorn nodded, his face returning to a light, refreshing smile. Thinking of Gladys, who was unable to hide her misery, he couldn't help but tell her a white lie.
“Well done, Miss Hardy.”
Before the dance ended, Bjorn whispered a skillful lie into the woman's ear.
“I will compensate you for the trophy slowly.”
He willingly agreed to offer his kindness. It was at that moment that a bright smile spread across Erna's face, who had been staring at him in disbelief.
She was a woman with a bright, childlike smile. Just like Gladys had been back then.
“You’re not really dating, are you?”
"I know that's impossible, but if it's true, I'll kill you. That's against the rules!"
The nonsense thrown by the persistent gamblers shook the tranquility of the terrace facing the sea.
Bjorn sat down in his chair without a word, puffed on a cigar, and asked. The music and laughter coming from the banquet hall grew louder as the night deepened.
No matter how much they teased her, there was no response; the group's conversation soon drifted in a different direction. Still, it was Erna. Peter, in high spirits, was bragging about the rejections he'd received thanks to his persistent sending of flowers and cards.
"Can you even call this a reply? I was properly rejected."
Leonard began to giggle wildly after reading the letter Peter had handed him. The letter, which had circulated through the crowd, finally ended up in Bjorn's hands.
"First of all, I'd like to express my gratitude for the flowers and letter you sent me. However, it's uncomfortable to receive gifts I can't repay, so I'm compelled to send this reply, despite my rudeness.
I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I won't be able to take a walk or have tea with you, Mr. Bergen. So, I hope your precious flowers and letters will be delivered to another lady who can share such an experience.
Once again, I would like to express my deepest gratitude and apologies."
Bjorn, reading the neatly written letter, soon burst into laughter like the other members. It was as if the woman's voice was in the letter. She must have been speaking quietly, her expression grave, her eyes blinking slowly, her expression frightened.
“Don’t laugh, you little punks. That’s how it all starts.”
Peter, who had taken back the reply, shouted loudly, undeterred by the laughter.
Bjorn turned his attention away from the pointless commotion and turned to face the sea beyond the railing. It was a full moon, and the night wasn't too dark.
“But who is that kid who is meddling in our game?”
Peter's face crumpled as he surveyed the atmosphere in the hall. The crowd that had been teasing him excitedly, as well as Bjorn's, soon turned their gazes in that direction. A young man was talking to Erna.
The second son of the Heinz family.
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he recognized him. His reputation wasn't particularly good, but at least he was young, so he might be a better candidate for a groom than Count Lehmann.
“If you feel wronged, go and get your money.”
Everyone's eyes widened at the words Bjorn spat out along with the smoke.
"If not, leave it alone. Our bet is a bet, and Miss Hardy should mind her own business."
With those heartless words, Bjorn finally turned his attention away from the commotion in the hall.
“Then so be it. Forgive me for doubting Your Highness, even for a moment.”
Peter looked at Bjorn, who was smoking a cigar without a care in the world, with a look of genuine admiration.
The crowd that had been bickering about him suddenly became quiet just as Bjorn threw his cigar into the ashtray.
“Let’s talk, Bjorn.”
Following the unpleasant voice in the silence, Bjorn slowly turned his head. Gladys. His ex-wife, whose face was even more unpleasant, stood there.
“Yes, Princess.”
Bjorn took out a new cigar, lit it, and nodded.
“Please speak.”
Turning his head back to face the sea, Bjorn's face no longer held a smile. The beautiful ripples created by the moonlight suddenly became irritating.
“I’m sorry for being rude and asking for a conversation.”
As those who had been observing her moved aside, Gladys slowly approached. She stopped beside the chair where Bjorn sat, looking like a child being punished.
“Get to the point.”
Bjorn, lighting the end of his cigar, finally looked at Gladys. Aside from a hint of annoyance, his face was devoid of any emotion. Despite the humiliation on her face, Gladys refused to back down.
“Are you going to continue using that girl like this?”
“That girl?”
“That poor country girl you’re using to torment me.”
“Ah. Erna.”
Bjorn whispered the name as if humming a sweet melody.
“Using her? Your confidence is a bit too much.”
The woman moved as if walking on water. Carefully and gently, like gentle ripples on a calm, windy day.
Bjorn looked down at Erna, who seemed intent on successfully completing this waltz as if it were her life's mission, and felt a sense of emptiness. If all this was calculated acting, then she must be the greatest actress on the entire continent.
But.
When Bjorn met Gladys' eyes, who was dancing with another partner but only looking at him, a faint self-mockery filled his mouth.
That Princess was a more innocent girl than this, at least on the outside.
As his thoughts reached that point, Bjorn's mood became much lighter.
On the stage with the largest audience, he created the most convincing picture, so his summer would be peaceful. The sensational articles in cheap magazines and the mouths of the affluent who would slander him while carrying them were nothing more than trivial and meaningless.
Bjorn lowered his gaze and looked back at Erna. She was still completely focused on dancing flawlessly. The fact that she could move so effortlessly, even while stiff and tense, seemed to stem from her remarkably small and light body.
Bjorn's gaze, passing over her rosy cheeks and slender neck, paused for a moment on the woman's smooth collarbone. Her skin was exceptionally pale and clear, like the surface of porcelain.
After staring at the blue veins shining beneath for a while, Bjorn's gaze began to turn upward again. He looked at the pursed lips, the bridge of her nose, and the large, clear eyes that held him.
It was only towards the end of the dance that Erna finally looked at him. "How am I? Am I alright?" Her eyes seemed to be asking such desperate questions.
Bjorn nodded, his face returning to a light, refreshing smile. Thinking of Gladys, who was unable to hide her misery, he couldn't help but tell her a white lie.
“Well done, Miss Hardy.”
Before the dance ended, Bjorn whispered a skillful lie into the woman's ear.
“I will compensate you for the trophy slowly.”
He willingly agreed to offer his kindness. It was at that moment that a bright smile spread across Erna's face, who had been staring at him in disbelief.
She was a woman with a bright, childlike smile. Just like Gladys had been back then.
***
“You’re not really dating, are you?”
"I know that's impossible, but if it's true, I'll kill you. That's against the rules!"
The nonsense thrown by the persistent gamblers shook the tranquility of the terrace facing the sea.
Bjorn sat down in his chair without a word, puffed on a cigar, and asked. The music and laughter coming from the banquet hall grew louder as the night deepened.
No matter how much they teased her, there was no response; the group's conversation soon drifted in a different direction. Still, it was Erna. Peter, in high spirits, was bragging about the rejections he'd received thanks to his persistent sending of flowers and cards.
"Can you even call this a reply? I was properly rejected."
Leonard began to giggle wildly after reading the letter Peter had handed him. The letter, which had circulated through the crowd, finally ended up in Bjorn's hands.
"First of all, I'd like to express my gratitude for the flowers and letter you sent me. However, it's uncomfortable to receive gifts I can't repay, so I'm compelled to send this reply, despite my rudeness.
I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I won't be able to take a walk or have tea with you, Mr. Bergen. So, I hope your precious flowers and letters will be delivered to another lady who can share such an experience.
Once again, I would like to express my deepest gratitude and apologies."
Bjorn, reading the neatly written letter, soon burst into laughter like the other members. It was as if the woman's voice was in the letter. She must have been speaking quietly, her expression grave, her eyes blinking slowly, her expression frightened.
“Don’t laugh, you little punks. That’s how it all starts.”
Peter, who had taken back the reply, shouted loudly, undeterred by the laughter.
Bjorn turned his attention away from the pointless commotion and turned to face the sea beyond the railing. It was a full moon, and the night wasn't too dark.
“But who is that kid who is meddling in our game?”
Peter's face crumpled as he surveyed the atmosphere in the hall. The crowd that had been teasing him excitedly, as well as Bjorn's, soon turned their gazes in that direction. A young man was talking to Erna.
The second son of the Heinz family.
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he recognized him. His reputation wasn't particularly good, but at least he was young, so he might be a better candidate for a groom than Count Lehmann.
“If you feel wronged, go and get your money.”
Everyone's eyes widened at the words Bjorn spat out along with the smoke.
"If not, leave it alone. Our bet is a bet, and Miss Hardy should mind her own business."
With those heartless words, Bjorn finally turned his attention away from the commotion in the hall.
“Then so be it. Forgive me for doubting Your Highness, even for a moment.”
Peter looked at Bjorn, who was smoking a cigar without a care in the world, with a look of genuine admiration.
The crowd that had been bickering about him suddenly became quiet just as Bjorn threw his cigar into the ashtray.
“Let’s talk, Bjorn.”
Following the unpleasant voice in the silence, Bjorn slowly turned his head. Gladys. His ex-wife, whose face was even more unpleasant, stood there.
“Yes, Princess.”
Bjorn took out a new cigar, lit it, and nodded.
“Please speak.”
Turning his head back to face the sea, Bjorn's face no longer held a smile. The beautiful ripples created by the moonlight suddenly became irritating.
“I’m sorry for being rude and asking for a conversation.”
As those who had been observing her moved aside, Gladys slowly approached. She stopped beside the chair where Bjorn sat, looking like a child being punished.
“Get to the point.”
Bjorn, lighting the end of his cigar, finally looked at Gladys. Aside from a hint of annoyance, his face was devoid of any emotion. Despite the humiliation on her face, Gladys refused to back down.
“Are you going to continue using that girl like this?”
“That girl?”
“That poor country girl you’re using to torment me.”
“Ah. Erna.”
Bjorn whispered the name as if humming a sweet melody.
“Using her? Your confidence is a bit too much.”
Bjorn laughed softly and blew a long stream of cigarette smoke into the night sky.
"How can you be sure it's not true? To me, that country girl is more beautiful than you, Princess. She's also kinder and more innocent, of course."
"Please don't do that. Don't hurt the person who performed. Our work is now ours alone..."
"I told you clearly that day, Princess. The deal was fair, and there's nothing left between us now."
Even when he spoke coldly, Bjorn's tone remained calm and gentle.
Even after being deceived and divorcing in that way, they never once raised their voices. It's ridiculous to be venting their raw emotions now. No, the fact that they have nothing left to vent about makes the situation even more frustrating.
“So, Bjorn, what if I offered you another deal?”
Gladys, who he'd assumed would be the tragic heroine, would just shed a few tears and then return and ask an unexpected question. Bjorn, who had stood, intending to leave this tedious play, slowly turned around to face Gladys.
“Then wouldn’t things between us be different?”
“Deal? What deal?”
“I want to return the crown... the crown you lost because of me.”
Gladys's eyes were filled with tears.
“That’s why I came back to Letzen. To apologize to you, and to start over with you... from the beginning.”
“Princess, will you give me back my crown?”
"Yes."
Gladys nodded vigorously and stepped forward towards Bjorn.
"If you show them that we're reunited and living happily together, and win back the hearts of the people, you'll be able to regain your position as Crown Prince. My father promised me that he would spare no effort in supporting you to make that happen."
Even as she wept, Gladys's voice remained clear and sweet. Bjorn watched her with calm, downcast eyes.
"Of course, I know you won't forgive me easily. I don't even dare expect it. But Bjorn, at least give me a chance to atone. Even if you hate me, don't turn away from me. Please. I beg you."
Gladys, growing impatient, reached out and grabbed Bjorn's sleeve. Fortunately, he didn't shake it off.
"I can't tell you how much I've regretted my foolish and immature actions. It was a time of punishment for the wrong I'd done to you. It was so difficult and painful."
"Yes?"
"Yes. But if that's not enough, I'll try harder. I'll keep begging and begging until you feel better. I can do that as much as I want."
"Yes."
Bjorn nodded, as if to say he understood fully. Gladys's eyes began to sparkle with a faint hope.
“But what can we do, Princess? That deal is impossible.”
Bjorn let out a sigh and a hollow laugh, shaking off Gladys's hand that was clinging to his sleeve as if brushing away something dirty. Gladys flinched back, and large tears streamed down her face.
“Bjorn?”
“I didn’t lose that crown because of you.”
Bjorn smiled as he straightened the sleeves of his crumpled shirt.
"If I really wanted to protect it, there were plenty of ways to do it. I could have just killed that kid."
“What on earth are you talking about now...”
“It was a very easy and sure method, wasn’t it, Gladys?”
Bjorn tilted his head slightly as if asking a truly curious question.
"I could have given her medicine while she was stillborn, or I could have faked a stillbirth. That way, I'd have garnered a fair amount of sympathy for the Crown Prince who'd suffered the misfortune of losing a child, and I'd still be able to keep my crown. Well, that would have been it. Ah. The unfortunate Crown Prince who lost both his pregnant wife and child at the same time wouldn't have been so bad. That would have been the most straightforward option."
Even with Gladys in her thoughts right in front of him, Bjorn remained surprisingly calm.
"I gave up the crown, Princess, even though I had the easy way out. It was because I didn't want it so desperately."
Bjorn smiled as he fastened his crooked cufflinks again.
“But give it back? You, my crown?”
The more cruel the words he spoke, the softer Bjorn's smile became.
"So? Should I give up the crown I received against my will? Because the Princess of Lars so wishes?"
“That’s not what I meant...”
“Does Letzen’s throne seem so ridiculous to you, Princess?”
“No! That’s not it! Don’t do that. Please...”
Gladys pleaded, holding back the tears that were about to burst forth. The murmurs of the onlookers milling around the terrace entrance filtered through her suppressed sobs.
"If you want to return to being a beloved Crown Princess, look into other kingdoms. I heard the Queen of Bern passed away from old age. It wouldn't be a bad idea to try for that position. Wouldn't being a Queen be far more rewarding than being Crown Princess?"
“Do you still hate me so much that you have to be this cruel?”
Gladys finally burst into tears when she couldn't hold it in any longer.
As if to say he had nothing more to say, Bjorn averted his gaze and calmly passed by the sobbing Gladys. The onlookers, trying to eavesdrop, were startled and stepped back.
Bjorn, who had greeted them with a smile, left the terrace at a leisurely pace. They simply whispered, and no one dared to seize the Grand Duke. Even the crowd that hung out with him without hesitation was no exception.
All the way across the banquet hall, Bjorn never looked back.
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