22. When you cross the bridge of light
Bjorn bowed politely to Robin Heinz, who was groaning and unable to meet his gaze. As if they were gentlemen parting ways after a friendly and intimate conversation. As Bjorn turned and left, there was no trace of the one-sided fight from earlier.
Bjorn walked slowly down the empty hallway. He felt like he was taking out all of Gladys's frustration on Heinz, but he didn't feel particularly sorry. He also didn't care about the rumors that would spread throughout the city before dawn. If the princess's despair deepened at the sight of her ex-husband, far removed from the crown, it would be even more devastating.
Bjorn entered the lounge, candlestick in hand. The guests who had absently glanced away soon turned to astonishment and began to murmur.
“Bjorn, Bjorn!”
The shrill scream of the Marchioness of Harbour, who had discovered him, rang out.
“You did that to Gladys and then disappeared, and now what do you mean, this is what you did?”
“Oh, this is it.”
Bjorn casually placed the blood-stained candlestick on the table in front of his great-aunt.
“There was a little commotion.”
“Commotion? What the heck are you doing... in the world!”
The Marchioness of Harbour screamed before she could even finish her sentence. The other ladies, who had been watching her gaze, were no exception. Among them was Gladys, who was sitting in a corner, receiving comfort from her friends.
Bjorn turned around, feeling quite satisfied. As expected, Robin Heinz was standing there, limping and covered in blood.
By then, having lost interest in the meaningless commotion, Bjorn walked peacefully back to the banquet hall.
The face of the Marchioness of Harbour, whom he glimpsed briefly, was flushed with excitement from the bloody brawl at her party. She looked quite rosy, as if the day of the party in hell was still far away.
"Miss! It's true! There really is such a golden trophy!"
An excited Lisa raised her voice as soon as she entered the bedroom.
Erna, who had been pacing anxiously around the room, turned around in a startled manner. The dyeing brush she had dropped rolled across the floor and landed on Lisa's toes.
"It's a social club tradition for a soon-to-be-married gentleman to make a golden stag antler trophy and throw a bachelor party. The person who drinks the most at the party gets it, or something. There are all sorts of ridiculous traditions, you know? They bet gold on a simple drink. They really do all sorts of weird things."
Lisa, who had picked up the brush and brought it, continued her explanation with sparkling eyes.
According to what Erna learned from her close maids, the children of the Marquis Bergman family recently created this trophy and threw a grand bachelor party. The winner was Bjorn, known as the Poisonous Mushroom Prince. She heard he swept up all the trophies at the bachelor party, earning him the nickname "Hell's Deer Hunter." As Lisa continued, Erna's despair deepened.
“But, young lady, why are you curious about the pitiful games of such prodigal sons?”
Lisa, who had been chatting excitedly, suddenly asked a question. Erna flinched and twisted the hem of her skirt.
"So... Oh, I heard about it at a party. I was just curious about the existence of such a thing. I wondered if it was true, just a little."
“That’s true. It’s an absurd story, no matter who hears it, so it’s understandable that you’re curious.”
Fortunately, Lisa nodded without any doubts.
"Oh, right. The royal toadstool caused another incident, causing an uproar across the city. It was quiet for a while, I think."
Lisa, clicking her tongue, began to babble the next news: the accusations against Prince Bjorn, who had ruined the Marchioness of Harbour's party by causing a brawl.
“Not only did he drink a lot of alcohol, but he even started fights. He’s a truly pathetic loser.”
“No, Lisa!”
Erna refuted without realizing it.
“That... wasn’t drunk. He definitely was.”
“Hey. That’s because the young lady doesn’t know drinkers.”
“Maybe the fight started because the other person did something wrong?”
Erna felt she had made a mistake, but she couldn't back down. No matter who the Prince was, it was clearly her fault.
"No way. No matter how badly the Heinz family's children behave, they're not going to be worse than the Poisonous Mushroom Prince."
Lisa's expression, which had been waving her hands as if it were nonsense, suddenly became serious.
“Come to think of it, you keep taking that Prince’s side?”
“Rather than taking sides, it would be reckless to jump to conclusions without fully understanding the situation...”
“No!”
Lisa frowned and frowned.
"You should never be fooled by appearances! Do you know what happens if you eat a poisonous mushroom just because it looks pretty?"
“It’s not like that, Lisa.”
"Now. Remember, Miss. You'll die. If you eat it, you'll die. Yes?"
Lisa, who had been repeatedly admonishing him as if he were a child left on the water's edge, finally hurriedly left the bedroom after receiving a summons from the maid. "Eat it or you'll die!" Even as she closed the door, she didn't forget to leave a stern warning.
Left alone, Erna sat listlessly at her desk. She'd scattered her supplies in an attempt to work, but even that proved difficult to compose herself today.
The Prince's face floated above the fabric cut into the shape of a petal. And that wasn't all. The man's face was visible in the glittering blades of the scissors, the stamens of the flowers, even in the dye bottles reflecting his own reflection. Unable to avoid the Prince's face, which floated everywhere she looked, Erna simply closed her eyes.
She ended up in deep debt in many ways.
That undeniable fact weighed heavily on her heart.
Using a walk as an excuse, she searched the entire path she had taken from the fountain to the mansion that morning, but, of course, there was not a trace of the antler trophy. Her last hope that the Prince might have lied was now shattered. Furthermore, she had committed the cowardly act of blaming him for her own mistakes and fleeing, which was truly shameless.
Erna, barely able to calm her trembling heart, hurried to the closet. Her hands were pale and bloodless as she pulled out the tin cookie tin she'd carefully hidden underneath.
"Oh my god..."
Erna, who was rummaging through the cookie jar, suddenly lost her strength and collapsed to the floor. No matter how naive she was, she knew for sure that with everything she had, she wouldn't be able to buy even a single corner of that antler.
Even though she knew it was pointless, Erna sat there for a long time, rummaging through the cookie tin. The sound of the few coins rolling around in the tin resonated with a desperate clatter.
If she had known this would happen, she would have saved her money.
The day Pavel told her he'd help her deliver the artificial flowers to the department store, Erna was so overwhelmed that she bought a ton of supplies. It wasn't much, of course, but it was a shame to lose it, having been thrust into a corner with a huge debt.
"...flower."
Erna, staring blankly at the bouquet of silver bells in the cookie tin, muttered to herself. Discovering a glimmer of hope, her listless eyes began to revive.
Her grandfather always said that human dignity and respect must never be lost, no matter what. And Erna was his proud granddaughter and disciple.
If you owe a debt, do your best to repay it.
If you have done something wrong, sincerely apologize and ask for forgiveness.
That was the dignity and respect Erna knew. Her grandfather's will in heaven would be no different.
Erna jumped up from her seat, clutching the silver bell flower bouquet.
Live a life of conviction.
That too was a legacy left behind by her grandfather.
As the sun sets, the Abbey River turns a rosy color.
Bjorn drew back the curtains and opened the window wide. The evening cityscape flowing along with the carriage's speed was peaceful. Bjorn, exhausted from his unusually long schedule, leaned back into the seat and gazed languidly at the sunset along the river.
It was a peaceful day.
Freyr Bank had a fairly solid position in Schwerin's financial world, and individual investments were also generating satisfactory returns. Recently, at a major horse race, one of his horses won. While he wasn't particularly interested in horse racing, the prize money brought by a fine stallion was a different story.
It was the life he'd always wanted, and with it going so smoothly, there was no reason not to love this summer. It was even more so now that Gladys's presence was being overshadowed by the beautiful property Viscount Hardy had put up for sale.
Whatever way he associated himself with that woman, it was fine. He could embrace any woman's name, as long as it wasn't Gladys. And Erna, after all, was the woman who was soon to bring him a fortune.
Just as a satisfied smile spread across Bjorn's lips, the carriage entered the bridge connecting the city center and the Grand Duke's residence.
Bjorn readily agreed with the rave reviews, calling it the most beautiful of the many bridges spanning the Abbey. Though not particularly interested in art, he even found it quite impressive. It was a fitting conclusion, considering the generous investment in building it to commemorate a victory.
Bjorn looked up at the golden statue perched atop a tall granite pillar at the entrance to the bridge. The equestrian statue adorning the right pillar was Philip II, the Conqueror, his great-grandfather, and the man responsible for building the bridge.
Bjorn briefly locked eyes with his ancestor, who had worked tirelessly to brighten the city today. He smiled faintly and brushed back his wind-blown hair. Thanks to the diligent streetlights, all the gas lamps on the bridge were lit. The dozens of lamps installed along the railings were the primary contributors to the bridge's beauty.
As he neared the end of the bridge, Bjorn's gaze narrowed as he gazed upon his own world unfolding beyond the bridge of lights. Beneath the granite pillar erected at the other end, a woman stood. Holding a large bundle in her arms, she stared intently at his carriage.
“Erna.”
Bjorn blurted out the name with a laugh. He couldn't believe it, but it was definitely her. A lady dressed with such care in her tacky attire. His straight flush would win the bet.
As if she were waiting for him, the woman began waving urgently toward the carriage. There was no misunderstanding. The only carriage passing across this bridge was the Grand Duke.
Bjorn laughed again and hit the carriage wall. The coachman stopped his horse in a hurry, and the smooth flow of the scenery came to a halt.
Bjorn let out a soft sigh and turned his gaze to the rear of the carriage. Through the still evening landscape, that woman, Erna, was running.
Bjorn bowed politely to Robin Heinz, who was groaning and unable to meet his gaze. As if they were gentlemen parting ways after a friendly and intimate conversation. As Bjorn turned and left, there was no trace of the one-sided fight from earlier.
Bjorn walked slowly down the empty hallway. He felt like he was taking out all of Gladys's frustration on Heinz, but he didn't feel particularly sorry. He also didn't care about the rumors that would spread throughout the city before dawn. If the princess's despair deepened at the sight of her ex-husband, far removed from the crown, it would be even more devastating.
Bjorn entered the lounge, candlestick in hand. The guests who had absently glanced away soon turned to astonishment and began to murmur.
“Bjorn, Bjorn!”
The shrill scream of the Marchioness of Harbour, who had discovered him, rang out.
“You did that to Gladys and then disappeared, and now what do you mean, this is what you did?”
“Oh, this is it.”
Bjorn casually placed the blood-stained candlestick on the table in front of his great-aunt.
“There was a little commotion.”
“Commotion? What the heck are you doing... in the world!”
The Marchioness of Harbour screamed before she could even finish her sentence. The other ladies, who had been watching her gaze, were no exception. Among them was Gladys, who was sitting in a corner, receiving comfort from her friends.
Bjorn turned around, feeling quite satisfied. As expected, Robin Heinz was standing there, limping and covered in blood.
By then, having lost interest in the meaningless commotion, Bjorn walked peacefully back to the banquet hall.
The face of the Marchioness of Harbour, whom he glimpsed briefly, was flushed with excitement from the bloody brawl at her party. She looked quite rosy, as if the day of the party in hell was still far away.
***
"Miss! It's true! There really is such a golden trophy!"
An excited Lisa raised her voice as soon as she entered the bedroom.
Erna, who had been pacing anxiously around the room, turned around in a startled manner. The dyeing brush she had dropped rolled across the floor and landed on Lisa's toes.
"It's a social club tradition for a soon-to-be-married gentleman to make a golden stag antler trophy and throw a bachelor party. The person who drinks the most at the party gets it, or something. There are all sorts of ridiculous traditions, you know? They bet gold on a simple drink. They really do all sorts of weird things."
Lisa, who had picked up the brush and brought it, continued her explanation with sparkling eyes.
According to what Erna learned from her close maids, the children of the Marquis Bergman family recently created this trophy and threw a grand bachelor party. The winner was Bjorn, known as the Poisonous Mushroom Prince. She heard he swept up all the trophies at the bachelor party, earning him the nickname "Hell's Deer Hunter." As Lisa continued, Erna's despair deepened.
“But, young lady, why are you curious about the pitiful games of such prodigal sons?”
Lisa, who had been chatting excitedly, suddenly asked a question. Erna flinched and twisted the hem of her skirt.
"So... Oh, I heard about it at a party. I was just curious about the existence of such a thing. I wondered if it was true, just a little."
“That’s true. It’s an absurd story, no matter who hears it, so it’s understandable that you’re curious.”
Fortunately, Lisa nodded without any doubts.
"Oh, right. The royal toadstool caused another incident, causing an uproar across the city. It was quiet for a while, I think."
Lisa, clicking her tongue, began to babble the next news: the accusations against Prince Bjorn, who had ruined the Marchioness of Harbour's party by causing a brawl.
“Not only did he drink a lot of alcohol, but he even started fights. He’s a truly pathetic loser.”
“No, Lisa!”
Erna refuted without realizing it.
“That... wasn’t drunk. He definitely was.”
“Hey. That’s because the young lady doesn’t know drinkers.”
“Maybe the fight started because the other person did something wrong?”
Erna felt she had made a mistake, but she couldn't back down. No matter who the Prince was, it was clearly her fault.
"No way. No matter how badly the Heinz family's children behave, they're not going to be worse than the Poisonous Mushroom Prince."
Lisa's expression, which had been waving her hands as if it were nonsense, suddenly became serious.
“Come to think of it, you keep taking that Prince’s side?”
“Rather than taking sides, it would be reckless to jump to conclusions without fully understanding the situation...”
“No!”
Lisa frowned and frowned.
"You should never be fooled by appearances! Do you know what happens if you eat a poisonous mushroom just because it looks pretty?"
“It’s not like that, Lisa.”
"Now. Remember, Miss. You'll die. If you eat it, you'll die. Yes?"
Lisa, who had been repeatedly admonishing him as if he were a child left on the water's edge, finally hurriedly left the bedroom after receiving a summons from the maid. "Eat it or you'll die!" Even as she closed the door, she didn't forget to leave a stern warning.
Left alone, Erna sat listlessly at her desk. She'd scattered her supplies in an attempt to work, but even that proved difficult to compose herself today.
The Prince's face floated above the fabric cut into the shape of a petal. And that wasn't all. The man's face was visible in the glittering blades of the scissors, the stamens of the flowers, even in the dye bottles reflecting his own reflection. Unable to avoid the Prince's face, which floated everywhere she looked, Erna simply closed her eyes.
She ended up in deep debt in many ways.
That undeniable fact weighed heavily on her heart.
Using a walk as an excuse, she searched the entire path she had taken from the fountain to the mansion that morning, but, of course, there was not a trace of the antler trophy. Her last hope that the Prince might have lied was now shattered. Furthermore, she had committed the cowardly act of blaming him for her own mistakes and fleeing, which was truly shameless.
Erna, barely able to calm her trembling heart, hurried to the closet. Her hands were pale and bloodless as she pulled out the tin cookie tin she'd carefully hidden underneath.
"Oh my god..."
Erna, who was rummaging through the cookie jar, suddenly lost her strength and collapsed to the floor. No matter how naive she was, she knew for sure that with everything she had, she wouldn't be able to buy even a single corner of that antler.
Even though she knew it was pointless, Erna sat there for a long time, rummaging through the cookie tin. The sound of the few coins rolling around in the tin resonated with a desperate clatter.
If she had known this would happen, she would have saved her money.
The day Pavel told her he'd help her deliver the artificial flowers to the department store, Erna was so overwhelmed that she bought a ton of supplies. It wasn't much, of course, but it was a shame to lose it, having been thrust into a corner with a huge debt.
"...flower."
Erna, staring blankly at the bouquet of silver bells in the cookie tin, muttered to herself. Discovering a glimmer of hope, her listless eyes began to revive.
Her grandfather always said that human dignity and respect must never be lost, no matter what. And Erna was his proud granddaughter and disciple.
If you owe a debt, do your best to repay it.
If you have done something wrong, sincerely apologize and ask for forgiveness.
That was the dignity and respect Erna knew. Her grandfather's will in heaven would be no different.
Erna jumped up from her seat, clutching the silver bell flower bouquet.
Live a life of conviction.
That too was a legacy left behind by her grandfather.
***
As the sun sets, the Abbey River turns a rosy color.
Bjorn drew back the curtains and opened the window wide. The evening cityscape flowing along with the carriage's speed was peaceful. Bjorn, exhausted from his unusually long schedule, leaned back into the seat and gazed languidly at the sunset along the river.
It was a peaceful day.
Freyr Bank had a fairly solid position in Schwerin's financial world, and individual investments were also generating satisfactory returns. Recently, at a major horse race, one of his horses won. While he wasn't particularly interested in horse racing, the prize money brought by a fine stallion was a different story.
It was the life he'd always wanted, and with it going so smoothly, there was no reason not to love this summer. It was even more so now that Gladys's presence was being overshadowed by the beautiful property Viscount Hardy had put up for sale.
Whatever way he associated himself with that woman, it was fine. He could embrace any woman's name, as long as it wasn't Gladys. And Erna, after all, was the woman who was soon to bring him a fortune.
Just as a satisfied smile spread across Bjorn's lips, the carriage entered the bridge connecting the city center and the Grand Duke's residence.
Bjorn readily agreed with the rave reviews, calling it the most beautiful of the many bridges spanning the Abbey. Though not particularly interested in art, he even found it quite impressive. It was a fitting conclusion, considering the generous investment in building it to commemorate a victory.
Bjorn looked up at the golden statue perched atop a tall granite pillar at the entrance to the bridge. The equestrian statue adorning the right pillar was Philip II, the Conqueror, his great-grandfather, and the man responsible for building the bridge.
Bjorn briefly locked eyes with his ancestor, who had worked tirelessly to brighten the city today. He smiled faintly and brushed back his wind-blown hair. Thanks to the diligent streetlights, all the gas lamps on the bridge were lit. The dozens of lamps installed along the railings were the primary contributors to the bridge's beauty.
As he neared the end of the bridge, Bjorn's gaze narrowed as he gazed upon his own world unfolding beyond the bridge of lights. Beneath the granite pillar erected at the other end, a woman stood. Holding a large bundle in her arms, she stared intently at his carriage.
“Erna.”
Bjorn blurted out the name with a laugh. He couldn't believe it, but it was definitely her. A lady dressed with such care in her tacky attire. His straight flush would win the bet.
As if she were waiting for him, the woman began waving urgently toward the carriage. There was no misunderstanding. The only carriage passing across this bridge was the Grand Duke.
Bjorn laughed again and hit the carriage wall. The coachman stopped his horse in a hurry, and the smooth flow of the scenery came to a halt.
Bjorn let out a soft sigh and turned his gaze to the rear of the carriage. Through the still evening landscape, that woman, Erna, was running.
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