44. Take me with you
He came.
Erna, who had been sullen, thinking she was just being hit by the wind, suddenly stood up, her face brightening. It wasn't until Bjorn was halfway across the living room that she sensed something a little off.
The man who always walked with grace and upright posture was, for some reason, staggering slightly. His clothes were disheveled, and he even smelled of alcohol.
No way.
Erna flinched, denying reality. He had clearly made a promise. Moreover, it was broad daylight. It was not a good time to be facing her fiancée drunk. But as Bjorn drew closer, Erna's hopes faded.
“Hello, Miss Hardy.”
Looking at Erna, who had become more flustered, Bjorn smiled slowly.
“I’m sorry. As you can see, lunch is going to be a bit of a struggle.”
Bjorn's gaze was thick with intoxication and drowsiness.
Erna knew she had to respond, but she couldn't find the words, so she just stared blankly at him. Although she'd been receiving instruction from the royal etiquette instructor as part of her wedding preparations, she'd never seen anything like the royal etiquette she'd seen in dealing with a drunk fiancé.
“Or, would you like to wait?”
After a moment of silence, Bjorn asked with a sigh. His eyes, which had been glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece, soon returned to Erna's startled gaze.
“If dinner is okay with you, then that’s fine.”
"Yes?"
Erna looked at the watch that Bjorn had been examining with frowning eyes.
“Ah... yes.”
Erna nodded, feeling absurdly rude, even though she thought it was ridiculous. The situation was so confusing that she couldn't even grasp what she was saying.
“Yes, then.”
Bjorn approached Erna, humming a very slow tune as if whispering.
“This is for you, Hardy. A gift of apology. You kept it safe.”
He came.
Erna, who had been sullen, thinking she was just being hit by the wind, suddenly stood up, her face brightening. It wasn't until Bjorn was halfway across the living room that she sensed something a little off.
The man who always walked with grace and upright posture was, for some reason, staggering slightly. His clothes were disheveled, and he even smelled of alcohol.
No way.
Erna flinched, denying reality. He had clearly made a promise. Moreover, it was broad daylight. It was not a good time to be facing her fiancée drunk. But as Bjorn drew closer, Erna's hopes faded.
“Hello, Miss Hardy.”
Looking at Erna, who had become more flustered, Bjorn smiled slowly.
“I’m sorry. As you can see, lunch is going to be a bit of a struggle.”
Bjorn's gaze was thick with intoxication and drowsiness.
Erna knew she had to respond, but she couldn't find the words, so she just stared blankly at him. Although she'd been receiving instruction from the royal etiquette instructor as part of her wedding preparations, she'd never seen anything like the royal etiquette she'd seen in dealing with a drunk fiancé.
“Or, would you like to wait?”
After a moment of silence, Bjorn asked with a sigh. His eyes, which had been glancing at the clock on the mantlepiece, soon returned to Erna's startled gaze.
“If dinner is okay with you, then that’s fine.”
"Yes?"
Erna looked at the watch that Bjorn had been examining with frowning eyes.
“Ah... yes.”
Erna nodded, feeling absurdly rude, even though she thought it was ridiculous. The situation was so confusing that she couldn't even grasp what she was saying.
“Yes, then.”
Bjorn approached Erna, humming a very slow tune as if whispering.
“This is for you, Hardy. A gift of apology. You kept it safe.”
As Erna flinched back, Bjorn handed her the golden object he'd been holding in his hand. It was etched into her mind, something she'd never forget. It was the deer antler trophy, the very starting point of all these years.
The trophy she happened to hold in her arms became the key to understanding this bewildering situation.
Lisa explained that this was a trophy used at high-society bachelor parties. Tradition dictated that the party's best drinker would win it. So, the Prince had broken his promise to his fiancée by drinking all night at the bachelor party and winning the golden antler trophy.
But you kept it?
He clearly said he kept it, not just picked it up. So, does that mean the main character of the bachelor party was Bjorn? How could that be? He wasn't a bachelor.
Erna staggered, feeling as if she'd been hit hard in the head with a sledgehammer. Meanwhile, Bjorn collapsed onto the sofa.
“What on earth is this?”
Erna, who was looking back and forth between the trophy and the Prince, asked in astonishment.
“Wolf horns.”
Bjorn slowly opened his closed eyes and muttered something absurd. Erna stared at him, breathless.
“Prince, wolves don’t have horns.”
“I see.”
Bjorn responded nonchalantly and closed his eyes again.
“That’s right. Now that it’s been cut off.”
The conversation ended with a languid whisper, tinged with a smirk. Slow, peaceful breathing and the ticking of the clock gradually encroached upon the stillness of the drawing room.
Erna, who was blankly looking down at Bjorn, who was lying sprawled on the sofa, collapsed on the seat with a thud.
There was nothing she could understand.
From the day she received the unexpected proposal until now, everything that had happened to her had been like this. The most difficult of all was the man before her, the Prince who would become her husband next week.
Should I have refused after all?
But when Erna regained consciousness, their marriage was already a done deal. Her grandmother and Madame Greve were shedding tears of overwhelming concern and relief, while Bjorn was smiling with a calm expression.
'You're awake, my wife.'
Erna almost lost consciousness again at the joke he made while meeting her eyes. The mischievous rose was carefully placed in a vase on the side table beside her hospital bed. It was as red as a spark from the blazing fires of hell, gleaming with a red glow.
Erna, who had been looking down at the sleeping Prince with a troubled gaze, suddenly frowned and rose, moving to the chair by the window. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to open the window a little. Only then did the smell of alcohol, which had permeated the drawing room, begin to dilute.
Erna gazed at her drunken fiancé, who was sleeping in a daze, as if he had been drunk without even drinking. In the pale, clear autumn sunlight streaming in, the loot in Erna's arms gleamed.
Wolf horns, like deer antlers, are kept by the main character of the bachelor party, who is not a bachelor.
Whatever its identity, it was clearly a confusing gift in many ways.
***
The first thing that caught Bjorn's eye upon waking was a woman. A small girl holding a golden antler trophy like a queen's scepter. Erna Hardy.
Bjorn slowly sat up, recalling the memories that began to surface one by one. The sunlight had already turned golden. It was the light of late afternoon, approaching evening.
“Are you okay?”
Erna looked at him as if he were sick and asked him cautious questions.
“Surely we don’t have to wait for lunch to become dinner, and dinner to become breakfast again?”
The questions that followed were full of little thorns.
Bjorn, leaning back against the sofa, nodded with a sigh and a smile. "I left you here, lying there, sleeping like this," Mrs. Fitz seemed furious.
“Can you wait just a little longer?”
Bjorn, who had rang the bell, got up from the sofa and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I think we need to make some preparations to have dinner with the lady.”
“Yes. I will understand that much, Your Highness.”
Erna, who had been watching him closely, answered as if she were doing him a favor.
Bjorn, who had been staring down at the sight of her furious, puffed-up kitten-like figure, left the living room with a cheerful smile. Even as he showered and changed, the lingering smile lingered on his lips for quite some time.
“Yes. Let’s go now.”
Returning to the reception room, Bjorn politely extended his hand to Erna, who was still sitting upright. Her expression was stern, as if she wanted to say that her anger hadn't fully subsided, but Erna obediently took his hand.
Instead of the overly large banquet hall, Bjorn led Erna to the garden room, which was primarily used as a breakfast room.
Bjorn sat Erna down at the table set in advance, then took a seat across from her. He nodded to the waiting servant, and soon the food began to arrive. It wasn't until the servants had left that Erna sensed something was amiss. The dinner was only for one person. All that lay before Bjorn was a steaming cup of strong coffee.
“Why doesn’t the Prince eat?”
Erna asked, embarrassed. Her naive attitude made Bjorn laugh.
“Eat comfortably. This is enough for me.”
Bjorn watched Erna, his chin resting on the table. His head was still pounding from the hangover, but he wasn't in a bad mood.
As the two gazed at each other, the sunset deepened. The space, with its three walls and ceiling made of glass, was bathed in its warm light. The soft crackling of the logs in the fireplace eased the awkward silence. It was a quintessential autumn evening, a scene that brought home the changing seasons.
Erna hesitated for a long time before finally picking up her cutlery. Eating alone under such stares was incredibly embarrassing, but she was hungry enough to endure it all. Having skipped a proper breakfast, left lunch exposed to the wind, and waited until sunset, she was practically starving all day.
“If you have anything to say, please do.”
Erna, who felt burdened by the silence that seemed like it would last forever, spoke first.
“Well, there’s nothing in particular.”
Bjorn smiled as he put down the coffee he had just taken a sip of.
“But today’s appointment was made by the Prince.”
“Oh. That’s just it. I think we should have a meal together before the wedding.”
“Is that... all?”
“Why? Were you expecting some other reason?”
"No!"
Erna, who had already answered the question as soon as it was finished, quickly picked up a napkin and wiped her lips, which were still clean. She had a strangely playful side.
Bjorn watched Erna with a much more relaxed mind. Ever since the marriage talks began in earnest, she had always seemed lost in thought, but today she seemed quite lively.
Erna took a few sips of water and carefully picked up her fork again. Despite her appearance, which suggested she might peck at her food, she ate quite nicely. Her graceful movements, like a living etiquette book, accentuated her youthful, squirrel-like face.
Erna, though feeling uncomfortable, slowly and carefully ate the food given to her. By the time the dessert plate arrived, the atmosphere between them had become much more relaxed.
“Whatever you want to say. Say it, Miss Hardy.”
Bjorn, who was watching Erna repeatedly lock eyes with him and then lower her head, gently urged her on.
Erna put down the fork that had been poking at the innocent chocolate cake and faced him with a determined expression.
“I want to bring my maid to the palace.”
“Maid? Ah. That gatekeeper of hell.”
Bjorn gave a faint smile as if to say, "That was it."
"That's up to you, Miss Hardy. If you wish, you can use another servant, too."
"No. Lisa is enough for me. Thank you for your permission, Your Highness."
Erna bowed and took a breath.
“And also... I have one more request.”
“Speak.”
“I mean, the wedding. Our wedding.”
“Yes. The wedding.”
Bjorn looked directly at Erna, who was circling her words with a silent, urging gaze. What kind of story was she talking about? Erna took several deep breaths before finally continuing.
“It is traditional for the bride to walk down the aisle holding her father’s hand.”
“Yes.”
“But if I don’t follow that tradition, will it be a great burden to the royal family of Letzen and the Prince?”
Erna looked at Bjorn with a frightened, childlike, yet desperate expression.
“So, what you’re saying is that Miss Hardy doesn’t want to follow the tradition of the bride’s position?”
“Yes, so to speak.”
Erna nodded slightly and straightened her neck.
“The only person qualified to walk down the aisle holding my hand is my grandfather, but he is in heaven now.”
“But Viscount Hardy is still alive and well, if I remember correctly.”
“But I don’t want to walk down the path of a new life holding the hand of someone who gave up on being my father.”
"Is it so?"
Bjorn showed interest by tilting the corners of his mouth upward. His pale cheeks were slowly turning a shade of red, but the determination in Erna's eyes showed no sign of wavering.
"Yes. If that's a huge disrespect that would ruin the wedding, I won't be stubborn. I can tolerate it. But if there's another way..."
Erna took another breath, holding her trembling hands together.
“Then I will take the Prince’s hand.”
Erna's blue eyes, filled with courage, trembled like gentle ripples on the surface of the water. As darkness fell, the candlelight, brighter than ever, quietly illuminated the rebel with the face of an angel.
“Please take me, Prince.”
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