21. You should like it
Erna ran out of the banquet hall.
She walked briskly, past the lounge where guests were gathered to relax and enjoy refreshments, down the long hallway. Only when she reached the reception room at the eastern end, where the crowds had gradually dwindled, did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Erna sat cautiously on the edge of the sofa, looking wearily at the clock. It was already nearly midnight, but the party showed no signs of ending.
From accidentally becoming a thief and incurring a huge debt, to dancing with a Prince, to enduring the harsh stares of others—it was a day of exhaustion, filled with so much. And then there was the perplexingly persistent request from the Heinz family to dance.
The man, who introduced himself as Robin Heinz, appeared wherever Erna fled. At first, his requests were polite, but with each refusal, his demeanor grew increasingly overbearing.
Erna, burdened by the attention drawn to her by the wind, quietly left the banquet hall. She had intended to hide there until the party ended. Just as she was reaching that conclusion and relaxing, the man barged in.
"I was wondering where you were going in such a hurry. There you are, arrogant Miss Hardy."
Robin Heinz, groaning, approached the sofa where Erna was sitting. Startled, Erna quickly put her shoes back on and stood up. The man reeked of alcohol.
“Have you made a promise to have a secret affair with the Grand Duke here?”
“Please step aside, Mr. Heinz.”
“You don’t like it?”
Robin Heinz whirled and grabbed Erna's wrist. It happened before she could even see the damage.
“I guess you’re getting some love from that prodigal son, so all the other guys look funny to you?”
“Hey, let go of this! Why are you doing this!”
"You're so stupid. It's a waste of effort to try to impress the Prince. Wouldn't it be better to impress me? Who knows? If you act cute, I might be able to buy Miss Hardy instead of that old man."
“I don’t understand what Mr. Heinz is talking about. Let go of my hand!”
"You don't know what you don't know. Your father is a man who would sell his daughter to anyone who came bearing a wad of cash. If I offered even a penny more than that old man, Miss Hardy would have to sell herself to me. In that situation, who would ignore whom? Huh?"
The man, muttering incomprehensible words, pulled Erna towards him with all his might. When his face landed on his chest, Erna screamed and began to struggle. Surprised by the unexpectedly strong resistance, he hesitated for a moment, giving Erna time to escape to the other end of the reception room.
“Ha. This is real.”
He started to approach her with a laugh, caressing his scratched cheek.
Erna looked down the window, her eyes terrified. The exit was behind the man, and a physical fight would be impossible. So, this window was the only escape route. But she couldn't bring herself to jump, and as she sobbed, the man came up behind her.
A shrill scream began to echo through the empty hallway.
What stopped Bjorn in his tracks was a woman's desperate scream. It came from the end of the hallway leading to the east side of the mansion. It wasn't the kind of place where guests invited to a party would gather.
Believing he'd misheard, Bjorn resumed his steps in the direction he'd intended. It was then that he heard an even sharper scream. It was a scream too vivid and terrifying to be dismissed as a hallucination.
What kind of bastard who can't drink expensive alcohol with pleasure is messing with the maid again?
With a quiet sigh, Bjorn turned toward the east corridor. His plan to snooze in a secluded spot and then return seemed to have gone awry.
It was an annoying summer night in many ways, but there was nothing new about it.
The life that had been thrown into disarray after his divorce from Gladys was now as familiar to Bjorn as if it were a part of his own body. In fact, nothing had really changed. He had never been a model student before, and his lifestyle hadn't changed much from what it is now.
Bjorn was quite pleased with the freedom he had in exchange for the crown.
This was especially true in moments like this. Being able to freely treat the cripples he'd tolerated to maintain his dignity as Crown Prince was almost a blessing. So today, he was willing to savor that freedom. Until he encountered an unexpected face.
“Miss Hardy?”
Stopping at the entrance to the reception room, Bjorn slowly called out the name of the woman he couldn't believe, even after seeing her with his own eyes. Erna, trembling and crying, lifted her disfigured face and looked at him. It took a moment for her dazed eyes to focus.
“What is this...”
Bjorn stopped a few steps away from Erna and surveyed the chaos before him.
A woman, pale and crying. A torn dress, a bloody candlestick. And a collapsed man. With each shift of his gaze, Bjorn's gaze narrowed. Except that the woman, whom he had assumed was a maid, was actually Erna, everything was as expected. The fact that the collapsed man was a bit of an anomaly, however.
“Prince, I... I think I killed someone.”
Erna, who had become lost in thought, opened her mouth with difficulty.
“I didn’t mean to do that. I was just too scared. I hit him so he fell, hit his head there, and bled a lot...”
As the story continued, the horrifying memories grew more vivid, and Erna finally burst into tears. Blood dripped from the candlestick she was clutching, seeping into the carpet, leaving a dark stain.
When the man's hand pounced on her, touching the front of her dress, Erna writhed, clutching at whatever she could, swinging it wildly. The sound of thin fabric ripping, a dull thud, and the man's scream echoed simultaneously. By the time she could finally grasp what had happened, Erna was standing before the fallen man, holding a bloody candlestick.
“Don’t worry, Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn carefully examined the fallen man, sighed quietly, and sat up.
"He just fainted, so he'll wake up soon. These types of people don't usually die easily."
“...Really?”
Tears streamed ceaselessly from Erna's eyes, falling in a puddle and soaking the torn front of her dress. One shoulder and half of her chest were exposed, but Erna had no time to acknowledge it.
"Really."
Bjorn answered forcefully and supported the staggering Erna.
He'd expected some idiot, driven to defeat the Prince, to show up, but he never thought it would be this idiot. Even the most promiscuous of them would treat the daughter of a prominent noble family so carelessly.
“Can you walk by yourself?”
Bjorn wrapped his evening coat around Erna's shoulders and asked. Erna nodded like a good child, her face shining pale as moonlight.
“Then let’s go.”
With a short, firm command, Bjorn snatched the candlestick Erna clutched tightly. The blood on it stained his gloved hands red.
"Exit here and go down the stairs on the left end of the passage. This will lead you to the garden behind the mansion. If you follow the path straight, it will lead you to the waiting carriages. Take the Hardy family's carriage and go back first. I'll take care of the rest."
"But..."
“Remember. The left-hand end of the passage. Stairs. Garden. Go straight.”
Bjorn stared at Erna, who was struggling, and slowly, with renewed strength, delivered the main point.
“That can’t be. Then, the Prince...”
“It’s not your fault, so I’m just doing my part.”
“Your Highness.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll definitely get my debt back.”
Bjorn smiled and tied the sleeves of the evening coat he had draped over Erna's shoulders. Enveloped in his robe, the woman looked impossibly small.
“Do you like boating?”
Bjorn's tone was relaxed as he asked a question that seemed completely out of place in the situation.
"... Yes?"
Erna squeezed her eyes shut, doubting her ears. But Bjorn was still standing there, his face blank and indifferent.
“You have to like it.”
“What is that...”
“That’s enough, let’s go now.”
Bjorn glanced at Robin Heinz, who was starting to toss and turn little by little, and gave an order with strength.
"Hurry."
Bjorn's face, no longer smiling, was cold. Even as she nodded in bewilderment, Erna was crying.
After Erna, who had been looking back several times, left, the drawing room fell silent once again. Confirming that the sound of footsteps had faded, Bjorn picked up the vase on the console. His steps toward the collapsed man were leisurely, completely out of place in the current situation.
Bjorn stopped on the carpet, stained red with blood from Robin Heinz's face. Upon closer inspection, he noticed he wasn't seriously injured. The excess blood seemed to be from a scratch on the side of his head caused by the candlestick ornament and a nosebleed.
Feeling somewhat disappointed, Bjorn poured water from a vase and woke Robin Heinz. He regained consciousness and, struggling like a drowning man, opened his eyes.
“Hello, Heinz.”
Bjorn, who had just returned the vase to its place, greeted the confused Robin Heinz calmly. Bjorn's smiling face, clutching the candlestick, was captured in his dazed eyes.
He belatedly came to his senses and sat up in shock. The lovely roses that had been in a vase moments before were now scattered across the carpet, now covered in blood and water.
“I’m sorry if I went too far.”
"...What?"
“Well, it’s okay since you're not dead, right?”
Bjorn laughed, tapping his head with the bloody end of the candlestick. Robin Heinz, finally understanding the situation, began to stir.
“This, this crazy kid!”
He shouted, spitting out blood-tinged saliva. Even at that moment, Bjorn's smile deepened as he watched his trembling form.
The Robin Heinz he knew was a retard who would never dare admit to being beaten by that frail woman. So, even if he didn't want to, he had no choice but to join in. It would be far better for him to save face if he had a major showdown with the infamous prince.
On that topic, such pointless boasting.
Bjorn, with a low chuckle, swung the candlestick. Thud. Robin Heinz, defenseless and struck in the head, screamed and fell back to the floor. The scent of crushed roses wafted through the air.
“Do you believe we fought that hard?”
Bjorn kicked the stomach of the fallen man, who chuckled dryly.
“You know very well how sharp the eyes of the people in this world are.”
Once again, this time when he was kicked in the face, the nosebleed that had stopped started flowing again.
“So, please understand, Heinz.”
Even as he whispered softly, Bjorn continued to kick. He tried desperately to fight back, but Robin Heinz was helplessly struck without even being able to stand up. Only after he began to scream and cry did Bjorn finally take a step back.
“I think it’s done now.”
A smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he bent down and carefully examined his face.
Bjorn stroked his head as if praising a loyal dog, then tossed aside his blood-stained gloves and stood. His name, embroidered in gold thread on the wrist of his white glove, shone clearly even in the dim light.
Erna ran out of the banquet hall.
She walked briskly, past the lounge where guests were gathered to relax and enjoy refreshments, down the long hallway. Only when she reached the reception room at the eastern end, where the crowds had gradually dwindled, did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Erna sat cautiously on the edge of the sofa, looking wearily at the clock. It was already nearly midnight, but the party showed no signs of ending.
From accidentally becoming a thief and incurring a huge debt, to dancing with a Prince, to enduring the harsh stares of others—it was a day of exhaustion, filled with so much. And then there was the perplexingly persistent request from the Heinz family to dance.
The man, who introduced himself as Robin Heinz, appeared wherever Erna fled. At first, his requests were polite, but with each refusal, his demeanor grew increasingly overbearing.
Erna, burdened by the attention drawn to her by the wind, quietly left the banquet hall. She had intended to hide there until the party ended. Just as she was reaching that conclusion and relaxing, the man barged in.
"I was wondering where you were going in such a hurry. There you are, arrogant Miss Hardy."
Robin Heinz, groaning, approached the sofa where Erna was sitting. Startled, Erna quickly put her shoes back on and stood up. The man reeked of alcohol.
“Have you made a promise to have a secret affair with the Grand Duke here?”
“Please step aside, Mr. Heinz.”
“You don’t like it?”
Robin Heinz whirled and grabbed Erna's wrist. It happened before she could even see the damage.
“I guess you’re getting some love from that prodigal son, so all the other guys look funny to you?”
“Hey, let go of this! Why are you doing this!”
"You're so stupid. It's a waste of effort to try to impress the Prince. Wouldn't it be better to impress me? Who knows? If you act cute, I might be able to buy Miss Hardy instead of that old man."
“I don’t understand what Mr. Heinz is talking about. Let go of my hand!”
"You don't know what you don't know. Your father is a man who would sell his daughter to anyone who came bearing a wad of cash. If I offered even a penny more than that old man, Miss Hardy would have to sell herself to me. In that situation, who would ignore whom? Huh?"
The man, muttering incomprehensible words, pulled Erna towards him with all his might. When his face landed on his chest, Erna screamed and began to struggle. Surprised by the unexpectedly strong resistance, he hesitated for a moment, giving Erna time to escape to the other end of the reception room.
“Ha. This is real.”
He started to approach her with a laugh, caressing his scratched cheek.
Erna looked down the window, her eyes terrified. The exit was behind the man, and a physical fight would be impossible. So, this window was the only escape route. But she couldn't bring herself to jump, and as she sobbed, the man came up behind her.
A shrill scream began to echo through the empty hallway.
***
What stopped Bjorn in his tracks was a woman's desperate scream. It came from the end of the hallway leading to the east side of the mansion. It wasn't the kind of place where guests invited to a party would gather.
Believing he'd misheard, Bjorn resumed his steps in the direction he'd intended. It was then that he heard an even sharper scream. It was a scream too vivid and terrifying to be dismissed as a hallucination.
What kind of bastard who can't drink expensive alcohol with pleasure is messing with the maid again?
With a quiet sigh, Bjorn turned toward the east corridor. His plan to snooze in a secluded spot and then return seemed to have gone awry.
It was an annoying summer night in many ways, but there was nothing new about it.
The life that had been thrown into disarray after his divorce from Gladys was now as familiar to Bjorn as if it were a part of his own body. In fact, nothing had really changed. He had never been a model student before, and his lifestyle hadn't changed much from what it is now.
Bjorn was quite pleased with the freedom he had in exchange for the crown.
This was especially true in moments like this. Being able to freely treat the cripples he'd tolerated to maintain his dignity as Crown Prince was almost a blessing. So today, he was willing to savor that freedom. Until he encountered an unexpected face.
“Miss Hardy?”
Stopping at the entrance to the reception room, Bjorn slowly called out the name of the woman he couldn't believe, even after seeing her with his own eyes. Erna, trembling and crying, lifted her disfigured face and looked at him. It took a moment for her dazed eyes to focus.
“What is this...”
Bjorn stopped a few steps away from Erna and surveyed the chaos before him.
A woman, pale and crying. A torn dress, a bloody candlestick. And a collapsed man. With each shift of his gaze, Bjorn's gaze narrowed. Except that the woman, whom he had assumed was a maid, was actually Erna, everything was as expected. The fact that the collapsed man was a bit of an anomaly, however.
“Prince, I... I think I killed someone.”
Erna, who had become lost in thought, opened her mouth with difficulty.
“I didn’t mean to do that. I was just too scared. I hit him so he fell, hit his head there, and bled a lot...”
As the story continued, the horrifying memories grew more vivid, and Erna finally burst into tears. Blood dripped from the candlestick she was clutching, seeping into the carpet, leaving a dark stain.
When the man's hand pounced on her, touching the front of her dress, Erna writhed, clutching at whatever she could, swinging it wildly. The sound of thin fabric ripping, a dull thud, and the man's scream echoed simultaneously. By the time she could finally grasp what had happened, Erna was standing before the fallen man, holding a bloody candlestick.
“Don’t worry, Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn carefully examined the fallen man, sighed quietly, and sat up.
"He just fainted, so he'll wake up soon. These types of people don't usually die easily."
“...Really?”
Tears streamed ceaselessly from Erna's eyes, falling in a puddle and soaking the torn front of her dress. One shoulder and half of her chest were exposed, but Erna had no time to acknowledge it.
"Really."
Bjorn answered forcefully and supported the staggering Erna.
He'd expected some idiot, driven to defeat the Prince, to show up, but he never thought it would be this idiot. Even the most promiscuous of them would treat the daughter of a prominent noble family so carelessly.
“Can you walk by yourself?”
Bjorn wrapped his evening coat around Erna's shoulders and asked. Erna nodded like a good child, her face shining pale as moonlight.
“Then let’s go.”
With a short, firm command, Bjorn snatched the candlestick Erna clutched tightly. The blood on it stained his gloved hands red.
"Exit here and go down the stairs on the left end of the passage. This will lead you to the garden behind the mansion. If you follow the path straight, it will lead you to the waiting carriages. Take the Hardy family's carriage and go back first. I'll take care of the rest."
"But..."
“Remember. The left-hand end of the passage. Stairs. Garden. Go straight.”
Bjorn stared at Erna, who was struggling, and slowly, with renewed strength, delivered the main point.
“That can’t be. Then, the Prince...”
“It’s not your fault, so I’m just doing my part.”
“Your Highness.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll definitely get my debt back.”
Bjorn smiled and tied the sleeves of the evening coat he had draped over Erna's shoulders. Enveloped in his robe, the woman looked impossibly small.
“Do you like boating?”
Bjorn's tone was relaxed as he asked a question that seemed completely out of place in the situation.
"... Yes?"
Erna squeezed her eyes shut, doubting her ears. But Bjorn was still standing there, his face blank and indifferent.
“You have to like it.”
“What is that...”
“That’s enough, let’s go now.”
Bjorn glanced at Robin Heinz, who was starting to toss and turn little by little, and gave an order with strength.
"Hurry."
Bjorn's face, no longer smiling, was cold. Even as she nodded in bewilderment, Erna was crying.
After Erna, who had been looking back several times, left, the drawing room fell silent once again. Confirming that the sound of footsteps had faded, Bjorn picked up the vase on the console. His steps toward the collapsed man were leisurely, completely out of place in the current situation.
Bjorn stopped on the carpet, stained red with blood from Robin Heinz's face. Upon closer inspection, he noticed he wasn't seriously injured. The excess blood seemed to be from a scratch on the side of his head caused by the candlestick ornament and a nosebleed.
Feeling somewhat disappointed, Bjorn poured water from a vase and woke Robin Heinz. He regained consciousness and, struggling like a drowning man, opened his eyes.
“Hello, Heinz.”
Bjorn, who had just returned the vase to its place, greeted the confused Robin Heinz calmly. Bjorn's smiling face, clutching the candlestick, was captured in his dazed eyes.
He belatedly came to his senses and sat up in shock. The lovely roses that had been in a vase moments before were now scattered across the carpet, now covered in blood and water.
“I’m sorry if I went too far.”
"...What?"
“Well, it’s okay since you're not dead, right?”
Bjorn laughed, tapping his head with the bloody end of the candlestick. Robin Heinz, finally understanding the situation, began to stir.
“This, this crazy kid!”
He shouted, spitting out blood-tinged saliva. Even at that moment, Bjorn's smile deepened as he watched his trembling form.
The Robin Heinz he knew was a retard who would never dare admit to being beaten by that frail woman. So, even if he didn't want to, he had no choice but to join in. It would be far better for him to save face if he had a major showdown with the infamous prince.
On that topic, such pointless boasting.
Bjorn, with a low chuckle, swung the candlestick. Thud. Robin Heinz, defenseless and struck in the head, screamed and fell back to the floor. The scent of crushed roses wafted through the air.
“Do you believe we fought that hard?”
Bjorn kicked the stomach of the fallen man, who chuckled dryly.
“You know very well how sharp the eyes of the people in this world are.”
Once again, this time when he was kicked in the face, the nosebleed that had stopped started flowing again.
“So, please understand, Heinz.”
Even as he whispered softly, Bjorn continued to kick. He tried desperately to fight back, but Robin Heinz was helplessly struck without even being able to stand up. Only after he began to scream and cry did Bjorn finally take a step back.
“I think it’s done now.”
A smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he bent down and carefully examined his face.
Bjorn stroked his head as if praising a loyal dog, then tossed aside his blood-stained gloves and stood. His name, embroidered in gold thread on the wrist of his white glove, shone clearly even in the dim light.
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