26. I'll help you
“I was stupid.”
It was only after enough time had passed to finish a glass of warm milk that Erna spoke. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the milk from her mouth, her calm demeanor belying her bruised appearance.
“I shouldn’t have trusted someone like my father.”
Erna clutched the still-warm glass tightly.
Perhaps it was because she'd let go of all the emotional dregs on the way here, leaving home without a plan, that her mind felt much clearer. The wounds on her body still hurt, but that was all. Erna no longer wanted to linger on anything connected to her father. It was a conclusion she'd reached in the quiet moments of curling up in bed, staring into space.
“I’m so sorry for bothering you like this, Pavel.”
Erna, who had regained her composure, slowly raised her head to face Pavel.
“Because you’re the only one I can be indebted to...”
Erna trailed off, her gaze dropping. The face of Prince Bjorn, whom she had accidentally encountered in the square, appeared faintly in her empty glass, then vanished.
Perhaps he could have helped, but Erna, no matter what, didn't want the Prince to see her like this. Obsessed with these thoughts, she ran through the square, oblivious to the pain of her wounds. She just ran forward, mindlessly.
"Good job, Erna. I told you, if you ever need help, be sure to come to me."
Pavel sighed deeply and stood up.
He pushed aside the empty glass Erna was holding, went into the bedroom, and came out with a patchwork blanket. Erna's eyes widened when she recognized it.
“Grandma’s blanket.”
A smile spread across Erna's lips as she gently stroked the blanket Pavel had draped around her shoulders. The laceration stung, but Erna didn't erase that smile.
“Yes. It was a congratulatory gift from the Baroness to celebrate my admission.”
Even Pavel, who had been stern-faced, finally broke into a hollow laugh. He remembered the kind old woman who had handed him a gift package, repeatedly reminding him that he should always cover himself with a blanket, even in summer, especially in a big city where all manner of diseases were rampant. His anger surged again.
Erna was their treasure. Viscount Hardy, who had long ago renounced his fatherhood, had no right to treat her in this way.
“Shall I take you to Buford?”
Pavel, who was watching Erna caressing the blanket with red eyes, asked an impulsive question.
“I want to, but... I can’t right now.”
Erna, who had been thinking hard, shook her head.
“If I break the contract, the Baden family won’t let me stay.”
"Contract?"
"Going to get married as my father told me to. That was the contract."
The joints on the back of Erna's hand, clutching the blanket, bulged white. "Contract." A snicker flowed from her lips as she whispered the word.
“But you can’t just stay at Hardy’s house like this, Erna.”
"I know. I won't just sell myself off like Father wants. I'll have to find a way before then..."
“Why not just give up the house?”
Pavel took a step closer to Erna. His hand, wrapped in a blanket, gripped her shoulder with gentle strength.
"I know how much you cherish the Baden mansion. But Erna, it can't be more precious than your life. The Baroness would agree."
“But if that happens, Pavel, we... if that happens, we have nowhere to go.”
Erna looked at him with blank eyes.
It's not that she hadn't thought about it, but realistically, it was impossible. Even if she scraped together every penny, it would be difficult to afford even a run-down rented house. Even if she could somehow secure a place for herself and her grandmother, it would be a long way from taking care of two servants. And Erna could never turn her back on them. They were family. A true family, incomparable to someone like her father.
"I'll help you. The money from the painting will arrive by the end of the month. It won't be a lot of money, but it'll be enough to rent a house in the countryside for your family."
Pavel calmly conveyed the impulsive thought that had crossed his mind the moment he first saw Erna, who came to him covered in wounds.
“That can’t be, Pavel!”
"Don't worry. I'm lending it to you. Pay it back slowly, first when you can protect yourself, and then you'll be fine."
Pavel, who had already anticipated Erna's reaction, continued his explanation calmly.
"Be realistic, Erna. Your father will sell you before the end of this fall. It'll be impossible for you to save enough money to support your family before then."
Erna couldn't deny the reality he'd pointed out so coldly. Looking straight into Erna's eyes, unable to speak, Pavel quietly took a deep breath.
Maybe it's reckless.
Pavel knew it too. Running away like this wouldn't do the noblewoman any good for her future. But it could at least be the lesser of two evils. And what Erna needed right now was not the best, but the lesser of two evils.
“First of all, just think about getting away from your father.”
Pavel persuaded Erna in a calm, gentle tone.
“Yes, Erna. Huh?”
Up to there.
Is that appropriate line still valid?
A question that could not be easily answered, vaguely arose and then quickly disappeared.
Erna Hardy has disappeared.
She was nowhere to be seen, not in the Hardy neighborhood, not in the busy streets, not at any social gatherings. The Viscountess and her husband made the obvious excuse of health problems, but no one readily believed them.
“If she doesn’t show up on the day of the rowing competition, what will become of us?”
Peter, yawning deeply, asked with a feigned seriousness. Only then did Bjorn realize that the day of the decisive battle was just around the corner.
"No way. She'll be there that day. It's the best event of the summer season."
“But, if she's really not in good health, wouldn’t that be difficult?”
"What about her health? She's just taking a break from the scandal."
Leonard, who had been mocking Peter, suddenly stiffened. At the same time, everyone's gaze turned to Bjorn. Uncharacteristically, Bjorn was calmly eating an apple, his gaze still fixed on the lounge entrance.
"Give up, Bjorn. No matter how stupid that kid is, how could he possibly appear before you without being crazy?"
Peter shook his head and poured the glass in front of Bjorn. It was then that Robin Heinz, who was clearly much more clueless than he'd expected, entered the club's lounge.
“That crazy guy.”
Leonard sighed in sympathy. He hesitated for a moment, as if he hadn't expected Bjorn to show up at the club so early, but he quickly regained his air of bravado.
Bjorn, who had been quietly waiting, nibbling on an apple, only slowly rose after the group had settled down. The sound of Bjorn's shoes as he approached the table where Robin Heinz's group sat was as lively as the laughter and jokes in the lounge.
“Long time no see, Heinz.”
Bjorn stopped beside Robin Heinz, who was trying hard to ignore him and was acting brazenly. He looked quite nervous, his audacity gone, his provocations using tabloids.
Everyone's attention was focused on him, and the surroundings began to stir, but Bjorn sat down next to him without a care. He seemed to be a natural member of the group he always hung out with.
“Drink.”
Bjorn picked up the bottle the waiter had just brought out and filled Heinz's glass himself.
“What would I do with you here?”
Bjorn pushed a glass toward the motionless Heinz and gave a brief glance to the waiting waiter. Soon, a crystal glass filled with ice was placed before him.
"That woman seduced me first. But then I realized she was weighing the Grand Duke and me, holding me in her arms. That's how the fight with the Grand Duke broke out, so all blame for the mistake lies with that scheming woman."
Bjorn recited a concise summary of his interview, which had appeared in yesterday's tabloids.
As more and more people began to speculate that Heinz might have been the one who started the fight, he was busy giving interviews, defending himself. It seemed he was determined to make Erna a scapegoat, and since no one would take her side, it seemed like a pretty good strategy.
“Did that really happen that day? My memory is a little different.”
Bjorn waved the waiter off and filled his own glass. The bar's relaxed, summer afternoon atmosphere was instantly transformed.
As Robin Heinz, flustered, averted his gaze, Bjorn's gaze drifted to the shadows of the palm leaves swaying on the marble floor. The prolonged silence was tedious, and his patience was not deep enough to endure it.
“I’m starting to feel a little embarrassed.”
Bjorn put down his half-empty glass and wiped the drops of water running down his fingers with a napkin.
“Heinz, if you do this, it’ll sound like I’m some uninvited guest who’s come to ruin a nice drinking party.”
Bjorn gently placed his hand, which had been wiped clean of moisture, on Robin Heinz's shoulder.
"When you were chatting away so excitedly, did you ever think you'd never see me again? If so, that's disappointing."
“...What on earth are you trying to say?”
“It’s not something that grand.”
Bjorn let go of the shoulder he had been gripping tightly and stood up.
Robin Heinz finally took a deep breath, and at that very moment, the chair collapsed, and his world turned upside down. Only when he met the gray eyes staring down at him did he realize what had happened. Just like that night, Bjorn was smiling.
“You, you... Aah!”
Robin Heinz, trying to get up, fell back to the floor with a scream. Bjorn's shoe was pressing down on his groin.
"If what you're saying is true, then we're rivals. Rivals over a woman. Something like that."
Still trampling on him, Bjorn grabbed the bottle of whiskey lying on the table.
“Since you said so, I’ll treat you accordingly.”
“Bjorn, you!”
“Ah. You didn’t know, did you?”
Bjorn straightened his neck and glanced down. He slowly tilted the bottle, and the whiskey began to pour down onto Robin Heinz's flushed face.
“This is how I treat my rivals.”
Even as he looked down at him, writhing and screaming, Bjorn was smiling softly.
Setting the empty bottle down on the edge of the table, Bjorn stopped trampling the fool who had claimed to be his rival. Robin Heinz's roar, unable to contain his anger, overwhelmed the commotion of the onlookers surrounding them.
A crippled bastard who can only whine when he's one step away.
Bjorn, casting a glance that didn't hide his contempt, tossed his money next to the empty whiskey bottle and turned away. Just as he had approached, his walk was light and leisurely as he left. His daily life, which had become increasingly dull and weary lately, finally felt invigorated.
After greeting the group calling him, Bjorn left the club and boarded a carriage. As he passed along Tara Avenue, he saw the woman's maid carrying a large bundle.
Erna was still nowhere to be seen.
“I was stupid.”
It was only after enough time had passed to finish a glass of warm milk that Erna spoke. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the milk from her mouth, her calm demeanor belying her bruised appearance.
“I shouldn’t have trusted someone like my father.”
Erna clutched the still-warm glass tightly.
Perhaps it was because she'd let go of all the emotional dregs on the way here, leaving home without a plan, that her mind felt much clearer. The wounds on her body still hurt, but that was all. Erna no longer wanted to linger on anything connected to her father. It was a conclusion she'd reached in the quiet moments of curling up in bed, staring into space.
“I’m so sorry for bothering you like this, Pavel.”
Erna, who had regained her composure, slowly raised her head to face Pavel.
“Because you’re the only one I can be indebted to...”
Erna trailed off, her gaze dropping. The face of Prince Bjorn, whom she had accidentally encountered in the square, appeared faintly in her empty glass, then vanished.
Perhaps he could have helped, but Erna, no matter what, didn't want the Prince to see her like this. Obsessed with these thoughts, she ran through the square, oblivious to the pain of her wounds. She just ran forward, mindlessly.
"Good job, Erna. I told you, if you ever need help, be sure to come to me."
Pavel sighed deeply and stood up.
He pushed aside the empty glass Erna was holding, went into the bedroom, and came out with a patchwork blanket. Erna's eyes widened when she recognized it.
“Grandma’s blanket.”
A smile spread across Erna's lips as she gently stroked the blanket Pavel had draped around her shoulders. The laceration stung, but Erna didn't erase that smile.
“Yes. It was a congratulatory gift from the Baroness to celebrate my admission.”
Even Pavel, who had been stern-faced, finally broke into a hollow laugh. He remembered the kind old woman who had handed him a gift package, repeatedly reminding him that he should always cover himself with a blanket, even in summer, especially in a big city where all manner of diseases were rampant. His anger surged again.
Erna was their treasure. Viscount Hardy, who had long ago renounced his fatherhood, had no right to treat her in this way.
“Shall I take you to Buford?”
Pavel, who was watching Erna caressing the blanket with red eyes, asked an impulsive question.
“I want to, but... I can’t right now.”
Erna, who had been thinking hard, shook her head.
“If I break the contract, the Baden family won’t let me stay.”
"Contract?"
"Going to get married as my father told me to. That was the contract."
The joints on the back of Erna's hand, clutching the blanket, bulged white. "Contract." A snicker flowed from her lips as she whispered the word.
“But you can’t just stay at Hardy’s house like this, Erna.”
"I know. I won't just sell myself off like Father wants. I'll have to find a way before then..."
“Why not just give up the house?”
Pavel took a step closer to Erna. His hand, wrapped in a blanket, gripped her shoulder with gentle strength.
"I know how much you cherish the Baden mansion. But Erna, it can't be more precious than your life. The Baroness would agree."
“But if that happens, Pavel, we... if that happens, we have nowhere to go.”
Erna looked at him with blank eyes.
It's not that she hadn't thought about it, but realistically, it was impossible. Even if she scraped together every penny, it would be difficult to afford even a run-down rented house. Even if she could somehow secure a place for herself and her grandmother, it would be a long way from taking care of two servants. And Erna could never turn her back on them. They were family. A true family, incomparable to someone like her father.
"I'll help you. The money from the painting will arrive by the end of the month. It won't be a lot of money, but it'll be enough to rent a house in the countryside for your family."
Pavel calmly conveyed the impulsive thought that had crossed his mind the moment he first saw Erna, who came to him covered in wounds.
“That can’t be, Pavel!”
"Don't worry. I'm lending it to you. Pay it back slowly, first when you can protect yourself, and then you'll be fine."
Pavel, who had already anticipated Erna's reaction, continued his explanation calmly.
"Be realistic, Erna. Your father will sell you before the end of this fall. It'll be impossible for you to save enough money to support your family before then."
Erna couldn't deny the reality he'd pointed out so coldly. Looking straight into Erna's eyes, unable to speak, Pavel quietly took a deep breath.
Maybe it's reckless.
Pavel knew it too. Running away like this wouldn't do the noblewoman any good for her future. But it could at least be the lesser of two evils. And what Erna needed right now was not the best, but the lesser of two evils.
“First of all, just think about getting away from your father.”
Pavel persuaded Erna in a calm, gentle tone.
“Yes, Erna. Huh?”
Up to there.
Is that appropriate line still valid?
A question that could not be easily answered, vaguely arose and then quickly disappeared.
***
Erna Hardy has disappeared.
She was nowhere to be seen, not in the Hardy neighborhood, not in the busy streets, not at any social gatherings. The Viscountess and her husband made the obvious excuse of health problems, but no one readily believed them.
“If she doesn’t show up on the day of the rowing competition, what will become of us?”
Peter, yawning deeply, asked with a feigned seriousness. Only then did Bjorn realize that the day of the decisive battle was just around the corner.
"No way. She'll be there that day. It's the best event of the summer season."
“But, if she's really not in good health, wouldn’t that be difficult?”
"What about her health? She's just taking a break from the scandal."
Leonard, who had been mocking Peter, suddenly stiffened. At the same time, everyone's gaze turned to Bjorn. Uncharacteristically, Bjorn was calmly eating an apple, his gaze still fixed on the lounge entrance.
"Give up, Bjorn. No matter how stupid that kid is, how could he possibly appear before you without being crazy?"
Peter shook his head and poured the glass in front of Bjorn. It was then that Robin Heinz, who was clearly much more clueless than he'd expected, entered the club's lounge.
“That crazy guy.”
Leonard sighed in sympathy. He hesitated for a moment, as if he hadn't expected Bjorn to show up at the club so early, but he quickly regained his air of bravado.
Bjorn, who had been quietly waiting, nibbling on an apple, only slowly rose after the group had settled down. The sound of Bjorn's shoes as he approached the table where Robin Heinz's group sat was as lively as the laughter and jokes in the lounge.
“Long time no see, Heinz.”
Bjorn stopped beside Robin Heinz, who was trying hard to ignore him and was acting brazenly. He looked quite nervous, his audacity gone, his provocations using tabloids.
Everyone's attention was focused on him, and the surroundings began to stir, but Bjorn sat down next to him without a care. He seemed to be a natural member of the group he always hung out with.
“Drink.”
Bjorn picked up the bottle the waiter had just brought out and filled Heinz's glass himself.
“What would I do with you here?”
Bjorn pushed a glass toward the motionless Heinz and gave a brief glance to the waiting waiter. Soon, a crystal glass filled with ice was placed before him.
"That woman seduced me first. But then I realized she was weighing the Grand Duke and me, holding me in her arms. That's how the fight with the Grand Duke broke out, so all blame for the mistake lies with that scheming woman."
Bjorn recited a concise summary of his interview, which had appeared in yesterday's tabloids.
As more and more people began to speculate that Heinz might have been the one who started the fight, he was busy giving interviews, defending himself. It seemed he was determined to make Erna a scapegoat, and since no one would take her side, it seemed like a pretty good strategy.
“Did that really happen that day? My memory is a little different.”
Bjorn waved the waiter off and filled his own glass. The bar's relaxed, summer afternoon atmosphere was instantly transformed.
As Robin Heinz, flustered, averted his gaze, Bjorn's gaze drifted to the shadows of the palm leaves swaying on the marble floor. The prolonged silence was tedious, and his patience was not deep enough to endure it.
“I’m starting to feel a little embarrassed.”
Bjorn put down his half-empty glass and wiped the drops of water running down his fingers with a napkin.
“Heinz, if you do this, it’ll sound like I’m some uninvited guest who’s come to ruin a nice drinking party.”
Bjorn gently placed his hand, which had been wiped clean of moisture, on Robin Heinz's shoulder.
"When you were chatting away so excitedly, did you ever think you'd never see me again? If so, that's disappointing."
“...What on earth are you trying to say?”
“It’s not something that grand.”
Bjorn let go of the shoulder he had been gripping tightly and stood up.
Robin Heinz finally took a deep breath, and at that very moment, the chair collapsed, and his world turned upside down. Only when he met the gray eyes staring down at him did he realize what had happened. Just like that night, Bjorn was smiling.
“You, you... Aah!”
Robin Heinz, trying to get up, fell back to the floor with a scream. Bjorn's shoe was pressing down on his groin.
"If what you're saying is true, then we're rivals. Rivals over a woman. Something like that."
Still trampling on him, Bjorn grabbed the bottle of whiskey lying on the table.
“Since you said so, I’ll treat you accordingly.”
“Bjorn, you!”
“Ah. You didn’t know, did you?”
Bjorn straightened his neck and glanced down. He slowly tilted the bottle, and the whiskey began to pour down onto Robin Heinz's flushed face.
“This is how I treat my rivals.”
Even as he looked down at him, writhing and screaming, Bjorn was smiling softly.
Setting the empty bottle down on the edge of the table, Bjorn stopped trampling the fool who had claimed to be his rival. Robin Heinz's roar, unable to contain his anger, overwhelmed the commotion of the onlookers surrounding them.
A crippled bastard who can only whine when he's one step away.
Bjorn, casting a glance that didn't hide his contempt, tossed his money next to the empty whiskey bottle and turned away. Just as he had approached, his walk was light and leisurely as he left. His daily life, which had become increasingly dull and weary lately, finally felt invigorated.
After greeting the group calling him, Bjorn left the club and boarded a carriage. As he passed along Tara Avenue, he saw the woman's maid carrying a large bundle.
Erna was still nowhere to be seen.
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