33. Cloudy Afternoon
“This is so shallow and foolish.”
Walter Hardy's low voice was filled with an anger that was hard to believe was directed at his daughter.
Today's tabloid, tossed onto the reception table, boldly published an article comparing Princess Gladys to Erna. It was a nice comparison, but it was a nitpicky, slanderous article, utterly disparaging Erna. It seemed as if they were determined to further tarnish her already tarnished reputation.
“Even though I warned you like that, you still wouldn’t listen!”
“Calm down, honey.”
Brenda Hardy, who was rubbing her throbbing forehead, quickly grabbed her husband's wrist as he picked up the bottle.
“I think of Count Lehmann. It’s not over yet.”
Lehmann. Walter Hardy, recalling that name, a ray of light in the darkness, barely managed to suppress his anger and put down his bottle.
After such a boisterous night of celebration, it was only natural that the scandal surrounding Prince Bjorn and Erna Hardy would resurface. However, no one could have predicted that the scandal would spread throughout Letzen and inflame public sentiment.
The variable was Princess Gladys.
As criticism grew louder against the Prince for flirting with another woman in front of his ex-wife, who had even forgiven him and decided to reunite, the Princess stepped forward to explain herself, which was the root of the problem. The mention of the dead child was particularly damaging.
The Princess directly refuted the rumors that Prince Bjorn was a cold-hearted man who neglected even his own child, a criticism that drew the most criticism. Although the couple divorced, he continued to show consistent interest in the child and even quietly attended the funeral.
So please stop with the unjust accusations. He, too, is a father who has suffered the loss of a beloved child. Reunion is not something that can be forced. If he chooses the young lady of the Hardy family, I will gladly respect that choice.
The newspapers carrying the Princess's poignant interview spread throughout the kingdom within days. The impact was even greater because it was published by Letzen's most authoritative newspaper, not a tabloid devoted to frivolous gossip.
Walter Hardy, habitually reaching for a bottle of wine, began to ring the bell in a hurry. Even after gulping down the cold water the maid brought, his thirst remained unquenched.
As the Princess became more noble, trying to protect not only her ex-husband, who had done such a thing to her, but also his lover, her rival, Erna, naturally became more vicious. The Letzen people were so enraged that they were ready to burn the witch who stood in the way of the Grand Duke and Princess's reunion at the stake.
As the situation deteriorated, the authors who had been coveting Erna and courting her began to withdraw, one by one. Now, all that remained was Count Lehmann, an old man with little time left, indifferent to public opinion.
A young and pretty woman who will give birth to a son, a lifelong dream.
Since that's all the inspiration wanted from the Count himself wanted anyway, he wouldn't ruin the game over this. It had to be that way. Otherwise...
“Master, I just received a letter from the Le, Lehmann family...”
The maid, who had entered hesitantly, carefully observed the situation, handed over a letter bearing the seal of the Lehmann family. The joy of the hopeful name was fleeting, but the Viscount and her husband suddenly looked at each other with darkened faces.
Count Lehmann was scheduled to attend the Hardy family's banquet today and meet Erna. But, a letter from someone he was supposed to meet in just a few hours? His premonition wasn't particularly good.
“Open it quickly. Come on!”
Brenda Hardy urged her husband with a nervous expression. He swallowed several times and tore open the envelope with his bare hands, pulling out the letter from Count Lehmann.
“It’s nothing, right? Right? Yes?”
Brenda Hardy's nervous voice shook the heavily hushed air of the living room. Walter Hardy, who had been silent as if he had forgotten what to say, responded by placing the letter in his wife's hand.
While he stared blankly into space, Brenda Hardy read and reread the brief, heartless letter. It wasn't difficult to grasp the underlying meaning of the letter, which seemed to lack any formality and merely stated that he would not attend the dinner.
Eventually, even the last bidder left. The property they had ambitiously prepared for ultimately failed to sell, leaving them with only one future.
Bankruptcy.
Since he had borrowed money so desperately to make a last-ditch effort, that day would probably come sooner than expected.
Walter Hardy snatched the bottle roughly with his shaking hands. The Viscountess could no longer restrain him.
Baroness Baden, who had been lying in bed, unable to overcome the shock, finally managed to get out of bed late in the afternoon. Despite her exhausted appearance, she retrieved her reading glasses from the table and put them on, adjusting her attire.
Erna, my baby!
As soon as she remembered that name, the tears that had barely stopped began to flow again.
Baroness Baden sat in the rocking chair by the bedroom window and sobbed for a long time. The starched and neatly ironed white handkerchief was soon soaked with tears.
"Lady..."
Madame Greve, who had come to see her out of concern for her skipping lunch, sighed deeply before she could finish her words. Her wrinkled eyes, like the Baroness's, were red and wet.
Ralph Royce, who had been out of town for a long time to buy groceries, returned breathlessly with news that was like a bolt from the blue. He had been driving the donkey pulling the cart so hard, it was almost worrying that the old beast might collapse.
"Madam, our Miss Erna..."
The newspaper the gruff man handed her, his face sullen, contained a large photograph of Princess Gladys. When shr first received it, she worried that the poor gentleman might be suffering from senility, but upon reading the article, her worries vanished.
Madam Greve rushed into the house with a ferocity that rivaled Ralph Royce's. The shock, like a blow to the head with a sledgehammer, made her forget even her crippling arthritis for a moment.
The newspaper containing the story of the Hardy family's daughter, who had become an enemy of the entire Letzen family, passed through her hands and ended up in the hands of the Baroness, who was sitting by the window in the sunny family room, tucked away the edge of a worn-out handkerchief. In retrospect, it was truly a blessing from God that she didn't suffer a heart attack.
Unable to offer her food, she quietly crossed the bedroom and sat down beside the Baroness.
"There's no way Erna would do that. If something's wrong, it's seriously wrong."
“Yes, Ma’am. That’s right.”
Madam Greve agreed without hesitation.
The rumors the townspeople were circulating were as sinister as the breath of Satan. Thinking of Ralph, who had simply listened to such talk, filled her with rage. If it were her, she would have sewn those filthy lips shut.
"I sent her a letter a while ago. I hope she's doing well. Stay healthy, adjust well to the city, make friends, see many rare and wonderful things..."
The Baroness, recalling her granddaughter's letter, filled with bright and joyful stories, began to sob again. Madame Greve, who was watching, also burst into tears, turning the bedroom into a sea of tears.
“Walter Hardy, it’s his doing. He must have done this to our Erna!”
After shedding a torrent of hot tears, her eyes were filled with icy anger.
The reason she couldn't strongly dissuade Erna from living with her father was that she thought it might be helpful for her future.
Before he passed away, Baron Baden often said the same thing. He couldn't leave that child in this remote place forever. But Erna was everything to them. Unable to imagine life without her, he kept putting it off day after day, and before he knew it, that tiny child had grown into a full-grown young lady.
So, she decided, with a desperate heart, to let her go. Walter Hardy may be a cruel man, but he was still Erna's father. It was fortunate that he had finally come to his senses and was willing to try his hand at parenting.
But, as expected, human children were not meant to be rewritten.
Forgetting her noble lady duties for a moment, Baroness Baden gritted her teeth and pushed up the reading glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.
“We must save Erna.”
Meeting Madame Greve's gaze, she declared solemnly.
“I can’t let that child become as unhappy as Annette. Absolutely not.”
What makes Gladys so powerful is her lack of malice.
Observing the recent commotion, Bjorn reached this conclusion. It was a fact he already knew, but judging by her recent actions, she seemed to have returned even stronger than before. At first glance, it was almost awe-inspiring.
Bjorn tossed the newspaper he'd been reading at the end of the bed and leaned back against the head cushion. The light from the lamp on the side table illuminated him as he sat, almost as if reclining, drinking a very late morning tea.
Maybe Gladys is being sincere.
The Princess must have genuinely wanted to protect her ex-husband, who was being blamed, and also to help the young lady of the Hardy family, who was being slammed because of her. Bjorn didn't misunderstand her sincerity, though he did despise it.
Bjorn put down his teacup and ran a hand through his tangled hair, letting out a long sigh. Turning his head to look out the window, the scenery was a gloomy gray. The weather foreshadowed a raging storm.
A father who is hurt by the loss of his beloved child.
He chuckled as he suddenly remembered Gladys's skillful lies.
The Princess, who used to strangle her opponents with truths more cruel than lies, has now mastered lies. Her skill in weaving truth and lies together to ensnare her opponents has reached the level of a true master, worthy of praise.
The King of Lars should have passed on the crown to his daughter instead of trying to sell her back to Letzen. To exploit such a brilliant strategist like her for nothing more than a marriage proposal? This is a truly heartbreaking act of tolerance.
As the strong tea awakened his lingering consciousness, Bjorn slowly rose from bed and put on his robe. He opened the window, and the wind that blew in carried a particularly strong, fishy smell.
Bjorn gazed out at the cloudy afternoon landscape with a cigar between his lips. It was only when the name "Erna" suddenly came to mind that he realized he hadn't lit it.
Bjorn closed the window and headed to the bathroom, carelessly throwing an unlit cigar onto the table.
The sound of the shower head's water pouring down continued a little longer than usual.
“This is so shallow and foolish.”
Walter Hardy's low voice was filled with an anger that was hard to believe was directed at his daughter.
Today's tabloid, tossed onto the reception table, boldly published an article comparing Princess Gladys to Erna. It was a nice comparison, but it was a nitpicky, slanderous article, utterly disparaging Erna. It seemed as if they were determined to further tarnish her already tarnished reputation.
“Even though I warned you like that, you still wouldn’t listen!”
“Calm down, honey.”
Brenda Hardy, who was rubbing her throbbing forehead, quickly grabbed her husband's wrist as he picked up the bottle.
“I think of Count Lehmann. It’s not over yet.”
Lehmann. Walter Hardy, recalling that name, a ray of light in the darkness, barely managed to suppress his anger and put down his bottle.
After such a boisterous night of celebration, it was only natural that the scandal surrounding Prince Bjorn and Erna Hardy would resurface. However, no one could have predicted that the scandal would spread throughout Letzen and inflame public sentiment.
The variable was Princess Gladys.
As criticism grew louder against the Prince for flirting with another woman in front of his ex-wife, who had even forgiven him and decided to reunite, the Princess stepped forward to explain herself, which was the root of the problem. The mention of the dead child was particularly damaging.
The Princess directly refuted the rumors that Prince Bjorn was a cold-hearted man who neglected even his own child, a criticism that drew the most criticism. Although the couple divorced, he continued to show consistent interest in the child and even quietly attended the funeral.
So please stop with the unjust accusations. He, too, is a father who has suffered the loss of a beloved child. Reunion is not something that can be forced. If he chooses the young lady of the Hardy family, I will gladly respect that choice.
The newspapers carrying the Princess's poignant interview spread throughout the kingdom within days. The impact was even greater because it was published by Letzen's most authoritative newspaper, not a tabloid devoted to frivolous gossip.
Walter Hardy, habitually reaching for a bottle of wine, began to ring the bell in a hurry. Even after gulping down the cold water the maid brought, his thirst remained unquenched.
As the Princess became more noble, trying to protect not only her ex-husband, who had done such a thing to her, but also his lover, her rival, Erna, naturally became more vicious. The Letzen people were so enraged that they were ready to burn the witch who stood in the way of the Grand Duke and Princess's reunion at the stake.
As the situation deteriorated, the authors who had been coveting Erna and courting her began to withdraw, one by one. Now, all that remained was Count Lehmann, an old man with little time left, indifferent to public opinion.
A young and pretty woman who will give birth to a son, a lifelong dream.
Since that's all the inspiration wanted from the Count himself wanted anyway, he wouldn't ruin the game over this. It had to be that way. Otherwise...
“Master, I just received a letter from the Le, Lehmann family...”
The maid, who had entered hesitantly, carefully observed the situation, handed over a letter bearing the seal of the Lehmann family. The joy of the hopeful name was fleeting, but the Viscount and her husband suddenly looked at each other with darkened faces.
Count Lehmann was scheduled to attend the Hardy family's banquet today and meet Erna. But, a letter from someone he was supposed to meet in just a few hours? His premonition wasn't particularly good.
“Open it quickly. Come on!”
Brenda Hardy urged her husband with a nervous expression. He swallowed several times and tore open the envelope with his bare hands, pulling out the letter from Count Lehmann.
“It’s nothing, right? Right? Yes?”
Brenda Hardy's nervous voice shook the heavily hushed air of the living room. Walter Hardy, who had been silent as if he had forgotten what to say, responded by placing the letter in his wife's hand.
While he stared blankly into space, Brenda Hardy read and reread the brief, heartless letter. It wasn't difficult to grasp the underlying meaning of the letter, which seemed to lack any formality and merely stated that he would not attend the dinner.
Eventually, even the last bidder left. The property they had ambitiously prepared for ultimately failed to sell, leaving them with only one future.
Bankruptcy.
Since he had borrowed money so desperately to make a last-ditch effort, that day would probably come sooner than expected.
Walter Hardy snatched the bottle roughly with his shaking hands. The Viscountess could no longer restrain him.
***
Baroness Baden, who had been lying in bed, unable to overcome the shock, finally managed to get out of bed late in the afternoon. Despite her exhausted appearance, she retrieved her reading glasses from the table and put them on, adjusting her attire.
Erna, my baby!
As soon as she remembered that name, the tears that had barely stopped began to flow again.
Baroness Baden sat in the rocking chair by the bedroom window and sobbed for a long time. The starched and neatly ironed white handkerchief was soon soaked with tears.
"Lady..."
Madame Greve, who had come to see her out of concern for her skipping lunch, sighed deeply before she could finish her words. Her wrinkled eyes, like the Baroness's, were red and wet.
Ralph Royce, who had been out of town for a long time to buy groceries, returned breathlessly with news that was like a bolt from the blue. He had been driving the donkey pulling the cart so hard, it was almost worrying that the old beast might collapse.
"Madam, our Miss Erna..."
The newspaper the gruff man handed her, his face sullen, contained a large photograph of Princess Gladys. When shr first received it, she worried that the poor gentleman might be suffering from senility, but upon reading the article, her worries vanished.
Madam Greve rushed into the house with a ferocity that rivaled Ralph Royce's. The shock, like a blow to the head with a sledgehammer, made her forget even her crippling arthritis for a moment.
The newspaper containing the story of the Hardy family's daughter, who had become an enemy of the entire Letzen family, passed through her hands and ended up in the hands of the Baroness, who was sitting by the window in the sunny family room, tucked away the edge of a worn-out handkerchief. In retrospect, it was truly a blessing from God that she didn't suffer a heart attack.
Unable to offer her food, she quietly crossed the bedroom and sat down beside the Baroness.
"There's no way Erna would do that. If something's wrong, it's seriously wrong."
“Yes, Ma’am. That’s right.”
Madam Greve agreed without hesitation.
The rumors the townspeople were circulating were as sinister as the breath of Satan. Thinking of Ralph, who had simply listened to such talk, filled her with rage. If it were her, she would have sewn those filthy lips shut.
"I sent her a letter a while ago. I hope she's doing well. Stay healthy, adjust well to the city, make friends, see many rare and wonderful things..."
The Baroness, recalling her granddaughter's letter, filled with bright and joyful stories, began to sob again. Madame Greve, who was watching, also burst into tears, turning the bedroom into a sea of tears.
“Walter Hardy, it’s his doing. He must have done this to our Erna!”
After shedding a torrent of hot tears, her eyes were filled with icy anger.
The reason she couldn't strongly dissuade Erna from living with her father was that she thought it might be helpful for her future.
Before he passed away, Baron Baden often said the same thing. He couldn't leave that child in this remote place forever. But Erna was everything to them. Unable to imagine life without her, he kept putting it off day after day, and before he knew it, that tiny child had grown into a full-grown young lady.
So, she decided, with a desperate heart, to let her go. Walter Hardy may be a cruel man, but he was still Erna's father. It was fortunate that he had finally come to his senses and was willing to try his hand at parenting.
But, as expected, human children were not meant to be rewritten.
Forgetting her noble lady duties for a moment, Baroness Baden gritted her teeth and pushed up the reading glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.
“We must save Erna.”
Meeting Madame Greve's gaze, she declared solemnly.
“I can’t let that child become as unhappy as Annette. Absolutely not.”
***
What makes Gladys so powerful is her lack of malice.
Observing the recent commotion, Bjorn reached this conclusion. It was a fact he already knew, but judging by her recent actions, she seemed to have returned even stronger than before. At first glance, it was almost awe-inspiring.
Bjorn tossed the newspaper he'd been reading at the end of the bed and leaned back against the head cushion. The light from the lamp on the side table illuminated him as he sat, almost as if reclining, drinking a very late morning tea.
Maybe Gladys is being sincere.
The Princess must have genuinely wanted to protect her ex-husband, who was being blamed, and also to help the young lady of the Hardy family, who was being slammed because of her. Bjorn didn't misunderstand her sincerity, though he did despise it.
Bjorn put down his teacup and ran a hand through his tangled hair, letting out a long sigh. Turning his head to look out the window, the scenery was a gloomy gray. The weather foreshadowed a raging storm.
A father who is hurt by the loss of his beloved child.
He chuckled as he suddenly remembered Gladys's skillful lies.
The Princess, who used to strangle her opponents with truths more cruel than lies, has now mastered lies. Her skill in weaving truth and lies together to ensnare her opponents has reached the level of a true master, worthy of praise.
The King of Lars should have passed on the crown to his daughter instead of trying to sell her back to Letzen. To exploit such a brilliant strategist like her for nothing more than a marriage proposal? This is a truly heartbreaking act of tolerance.
As the strong tea awakened his lingering consciousness, Bjorn slowly rose from bed and put on his robe. He opened the window, and the wind that blew in carried a particularly strong, fishy smell.
Bjorn gazed out at the cloudy afternoon landscape with a cigar between his lips. It was only when the name "Erna" suddenly came to mind that he realized he hadn't lit it.
Bjorn closed the window and headed to the bathroom, carelessly throwing an unlit cigar onto the table.
The sound of the shower head's water pouring down continued a little longer than usual.
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