58. Be strong, myself
The deep night sea was completely dark.
Each time the black waves crashed against the massive hull, white foam scattered like a scream. The eerie sound, unnoticed in the tumultuous daylight, also contributed greatly to the terror. The crunching sound of chocolate, carried by white breath across the vast ocean, was accompanied by the rustling of paper bags.
Erna, now eating the chocolate she'd given up counting, gazed out at the night sea, which seemed to swallow everything. Her hands gripped the railing, and her cheeks were flushed red, but she didn't feel the cold.
It was just past midnight when she impulsively left the cabin. It was a rare restful night thanks to Bjorn's early departure, but Erna couldn't sleep easily.
Is it anger?
It was too sad to say that.
Maybe it's sadness?
But it was also too hard a heart to be called sadness.
Erna, unable to shake off that indefinable, stagnant feeling, came out onto the deck, clutching a bag of chocolates. Lisa had given it to her, telling her that sweets were essential when feeling down. Lisa, who had belatedly discovered the relationship between Viscountess Foresters and Princess Gladys, was so enraged that even the seasoned head maid, Karen, flinched.
Lisa is the only one on her side on this big ship.
It was a day filled with loneliness and regret. She had already prepared herself for the prospect of becoming an unwelcome Grand Duchess, but the knowledge that even her husband wasn't on her side inevitably weighed heavily on her heart.
Is he really a poisonous mushroom?
Erna put another chocolate in her mouth, chewing on the questions that rippled like the night sea.
The images of Bjorn Dneister, the man the world was clamoring for, emerged one by one from the abyss of darkness. A Prince, a nuisance to the royal family. A womanizer. A prodigal son. A bad man.
But the Bjorn Erna knew was different. While he certainly possessed those qualities, he was by no means the man his reputation suggested. If people were to believe it, Bjorn should be just like his father. But he wasn't. That couldn't be true.
But what if that judgment is wrong?
Erna gazed up at the star-filled night sky, feeling lost. Slowly, as she opened her eyes, the white starlight grew increasingly hazy.
'She didn't know much about the ways of the world.'
People often say that when talking about her mother.
'How naive of her to trust a man like that. How foolish.'
The conclusion was always the same: a pitiful woman who became unhappy because of her excessive naivety. Foolish Annette Baden.
As her mother, whose health was declining day by day, lay ill, the murmuring voices grew louder. It was a time when the Baden family's circumstances were better than they are now, and there were fewer servants to speak to.
Erna often snuck into the kitchen pantry, rummaging through the cookie jars, to overhear. Most of the conversation was difficult for a child to understand, but she still intuitively understood why her mother was sick and who the man who had caused her pain was.
Hidden in the dark storage room, clutching a half-eaten cookie, the whispers she's been hearing seemed to echo in her ears. Memories of her mother, who had finally passed away, her grandparents, who had wept sobbing, and her father, who had briefly appeared at the funeral with a cold face before departing, also came flooding back in the dimly diffused starlight.
My dear baby, please be happy for Annette too.
Erna knew all too well the earnest heart contained in that request. To her grandparents, she was also a replacement for their daughter, who had tragically passed away. Therefore, Erna had to be happy. She had to fulfill her mother's role, too.
As her vision cleared again, Erna slowly turned around. The smoke from the massive chimneys was dispersing across the dark sea.
The red rose Bjorn offered. The grandmother shed tears of joy. The Prince's second wedding, which stirred the entire nation. There was no way to undo all of it. As Erna etched that truth firmly in her mind, my once-turbulent mind began to clear.
Erna, catching her breath, turned her head again to face the scenery before her. Her tangled brown hair and the hem of her coat fluttered in the harsh wind.
Still, Erna wanted to trust him. The person who showed up and reached out in every moment of need. That firm gaze, that warmth, that smile that sometimes even felt like love. She wanted to trust her own judgment, and Bjorn, rather than the reckless rumors.
Let's love destiny.
Erna steeled herself and ate the last piece of chocolate. It was so sweet it made her shiver, but just as Lisa had said, her depressed mood lifted significantly.
Although it was an overwhelming and immense fate, it was Erna herself who chose it. Therefore, evading responsibility or expressing regret would be cowardly. Even if her choice was naive and uninformed, it wouldn't make a difference. Even if she had swallowed a poisonous mushroom, Erna had a duty to survive and find happiness.
Erna neatly folded the empty paper bag and placed it in her coat pocket. She took a handkerchief from the other pocket and meticulously wiped her frozen, red hands. Then, with a calm, determined expression, she turned around.
Be strong, myself.
Erna began to walk toward her cabin, repeating that resolve with each step. The sound of her diligent footsteps echoing across the deck was as cold and clear as the wind blowing across the night sea.
The ship that set sail from Letzen arrived at its destination the next morning: Lars. It was the country of Princess Gladys, the first destination of their honeymoon.
Bjorn finished his preparations by adjusting the shape of the belt and insignia across his shoulders. He stepped back and stood before the mirror, and the attendant, holding gloves and a ceremonial sword, quietly approached.
Bjorn stared at his reflection in the mirror, calmly donning his gloves and raising his sword. The Prince, imbued with a majestic presence—a deep black uniform, blue belt, and dazzling gold decorations—no longer bore any trace of the troublemaker so often talked about by the wealthy.
“Are you sure you don’t mind having a private conversation, Your Highness?”
The servant who had placed the coat over the Prince's shoulders asked a question with a worried look on his face.
Bjorn declared his intention to meet the King of Lars alone, without the Grand Duchess or anyone else in the delegation. While everyone else was anxious, Bjorn remained calm.
“Are you afraid that the Prince of Letzan will be beaten by the King of Lars?”
“A beating, a beating!”
"I should be more private, especially since something like that might happen. That way, I'll be less embarrassed. Don't you think so?"
Bjorn chuckled, tossing out a witty joke. The servant, meeting the Prince's cold gaze, stepped aside without adding a word.
Bjorn walked across the bedroom with long strides.
It was now the third day since they arrived in Lars. The first day was busy disembarking from the ship and traveling to Manchester Palace, the state guesthouse of the Lars royal family. The next day was spent resting all day. So today was the time for the real work to begin.
“Bjorn.”
As be entered the reception room, Erna, who had been sitting in her chair quickly rose. Her expression was as if she were a wife seeing her husband off to battle.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“If it’s not okay, would you like to accompany me?”
“As much as you want.”
Erna responded with a deep seriousness to the playful remark. The ribbon on her head swayed slightly as she nodded.
Bjorn, who was quietly looking down at his wife, let out a weak laugh without realizing it.
From the day she disembarked, Erna displayed a growing determination to fulfill her role as Grand Duchess. "How about this? How about that?" she babbled, diligently, about the things she envisioned as fitting for a Grand Duchess. Most of it was absurd, but somehow endearing enough to keep him from being speechless. Even in bed, she kept talking about it, so ne had to kiss her more than usual.
"Later."
Bjorn gently stroked the cheek of his wife, who was standing in front of him with a serious face.
“Yes? Even so, how could I...?”
Erna's eyes, which had been astonished, gradually narrowed.
“You’re telling another mean joke.”
Despite the sharp words, Bjorn chuckled as if nothing had happened.
Erna sighed softly and looked at her husband. He was a mysterious man in many ways, but she knew for sure that he loved teasing his wife.
“Don’t worry, wife.”
A long finger slowly stroked Erna's lips.
“If we fight, I will win.”
"Don't joke like that, Bjorn. I'm really worried."
"What?"
As his gloved fingertips touched the inside of her lips, Erna shuddered and pushed his hand away. She felt as if she'd been caught doing something bad, but Bjorn remained unfazed. This fact only made Erna feel a little more embarrassed.
“It’s because of me.”
Erna, holding his hand, spoke with a slightly sullen expression.
“I married you, so the relationship between Letzen and Lars...”
“Erna.”
The smile disappeared from Bjorn's narrowed eyes.
"There's no problem with Letzen and Lars' relationship. It's been fine, and it will be fine in the future."
“Is that really true?”
"Of course."
Bjorn was certain. Considering what he had risked for it, the alliance between the two countries had to be strong for eternity, and he was determined to make it so.
His wife doesn't get involved in that.
When Lars was chosen as the first honeymoon destination, Bjorn had already made up his mind. It would have been nice if he could have avoided it, but it was unavoidable, and if that were the case, he'd just have to deal with it as quickly as possible.
Erna, lost in thought for a moment, nodded obediently and let go of Bjorn's hand. But her eyes were still filled with worry and guilt that she hadn't quite shaken off.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“...What did you say?”
Erna's eyes widened at the words whispered in her ear. She glanced around, then looked at him again. She frowned in disbelief, then returned to a look of shock.
Bjorn chuckled again, finding it amusing. Even on the first day he'd turned over, Erna had reacted like that. It had been a night of considerable annoyance and annoyance, trying to comfort his wife, who was weeping and insisting that she was a lady, not a beast. But it had been well worth the effort. Even after that, Erna had been particularly ashamed of that position, but Bjorn loved it. The sadistic pleasure of looking down at the woman swaying beneath him, helpless, was palpable.
Bjorn kissed his wife's flushed cheek and left the drawing room. Erna, though she regarded him as a scoundrel, hesitantly saw him off. Seeing him off and then picking him up every day was one of the Grand Duchess's duties, she always babbled about.
“I, Bjorn.”
Just as the carriage door was about to close, Erna called out to him.
Bjorn leaned back against the carriage seat and cast his gaze toward his wife.
“Are you very late?”
"Maybe."
“Can we still have dinner together?”
Erna looked at him with eyes like those of a young animal abandoned alone. After a moment of thought, Bjorn nodded readily. Only then did Erna, relieved, smile brightly.
Erna gave a small wave toward the departing carriage. Her white hand, fluttering like a flower petal, made Bjorn smile. It was a gentle smile, a little different from his usual smile, a hint of warmth.
The deep night sea was completely dark.
Each time the black waves crashed against the massive hull, white foam scattered like a scream. The eerie sound, unnoticed in the tumultuous daylight, also contributed greatly to the terror. The crunching sound of chocolate, carried by white breath across the vast ocean, was accompanied by the rustling of paper bags.
Erna, now eating the chocolate she'd given up counting, gazed out at the night sea, which seemed to swallow everything. Her hands gripped the railing, and her cheeks were flushed red, but she didn't feel the cold.
It was just past midnight when she impulsively left the cabin. It was a rare restful night thanks to Bjorn's early departure, but Erna couldn't sleep easily.
Is it anger?
It was too sad to say that.
Maybe it's sadness?
But it was also too hard a heart to be called sadness.
Erna, unable to shake off that indefinable, stagnant feeling, came out onto the deck, clutching a bag of chocolates. Lisa had given it to her, telling her that sweets were essential when feeling down. Lisa, who had belatedly discovered the relationship between Viscountess Foresters and Princess Gladys, was so enraged that even the seasoned head maid, Karen, flinched.
Lisa is the only one on her side on this big ship.
It was a day filled with loneliness and regret. She had already prepared herself for the prospect of becoming an unwelcome Grand Duchess, but the knowledge that even her husband wasn't on her side inevitably weighed heavily on her heart.
Is he really a poisonous mushroom?
Erna put another chocolate in her mouth, chewing on the questions that rippled like the night sea.
The images of Bjorn Dneister, the man the world was clamoring for, emerged one by one from the abyss of darkness. A Prince, a nuisance to the royal family. A womanizer. A prodigal son. A bad man.
But the Bjorn Erna knew was different. While he certainly possessed those qualities, he was by no means the man his reputation suggested. If people were to believe it, Bjorn should be just like his father. But he wasn't. That couldn't be true.
But what if that judgment is wrong?
Erna gazed up at the star-filled night sky, feeling lost. Slowly, as she opened her eyes, the white starlight grew increasingly hazy.
'She didn't know much about the ways of the world.'
People often say that when talking about her mother.
'How naive of her to trust a man like that. How foolish.'
The conclusion was always the same: a pitiful woman who became unhappy because of her excessive naivety. Foolish Annette Baden.
As her mother, whose health was declining day by day, lay ill, the murmuring voices grew louder. It was a time when the Baden family's circumstances were better than they are now, and there were fewer servants to speak to.
Erna often snuck into the kitchen pantry, rummaging through the cookie jars, to overhear. Most of the conversation was difficult for a child to understand, but she still intuitively understood why her mother was sick and who the man who had caused her pain was.
Hidden in the dark storage room, clutching a half-eaten cookie, the whispers she's been hearing seemed to echo in her ears. Memories of her mother, who had finally passed away, her grandparents, who had wept sobbing, and her father, who had briefly appeared at the funeral with a cold face before departing, also came flooding back in the dimly diffused starlight.
My dear baby, please be happy for Annette too.
Erna knew all too well the earnest heart contained in that request. To her grandparents, she was also a replacement for their daughter, who had tragically passed away. Therefore, Erna had to be happy. She had to fulfill her mother's role, too.
As her vision cleared again, Erna slowly turned around. The smoke from the massive chimneys was dispersing across the dark sea.
The red rose Bjorn offered. The grandmother shed tears of joy. The Prince's second wedding, which stirred the entire nation. There was no way to undo all of it. As Erna etched that truth firmly in her mind, my once-turbulent mind began to clear.
Erna, catching her breath, turned her head again to face the scenery before her. Her tangled brown hair and the hem of her coat fluttered in the harsh wind.
Still, Erna wanted to trust him. The person who showed up and reached out in every moment of need. That firm gaze, that warmth, that smile that sometimes even felt like love. She wanted to trust her own judgment, and Bjorn, rather than the reckless rumors.
Let's love destiny.
Erna steeled herself and ate the last piece of chocolate. It was so sweet it made her shiver, but just as Lisa had said, her depressed mood lifted significantly.
Although it was an overwhelming and immense fate, it was Erna herself who chose it. Therefore, evading responsibility or expressing regret would be cowardly. Even if her choice was naive and uninformed, it wouldn't make a difference. Even if she had swallowed a poisonous mushroom, Erna had a duty to survive and find happiness.
Erna neatly folded the empty paper bag and placed it in her coat pocket. She took a handkerchief from the other pocket and meticulously wiped her frozen, red hands. Then, with a calm, determined expression, she turned around.
Be strong, myself.
Erna began to walk toward her cabin, repeating that resolve with each step. The sound of her diligent footsteps echoing across the deck was as cold and clear as the wind blowing across the night sea.
The ship that set sail from Letzen arrived at its destination the next morning: Lars. It was the country of Princess Gladys, the first destination of their honeymoon.
***
Bjorn finished his preparations by adjusting the shape of the belt and insignia across his shoulders. He stepped back and stood before the mirror, and the attendant, holding gloves and a ceremonial sword, quietly approached.
Bjorn stared at his reflection in the mirror, calmly donning his gloves and raising his sword. The Prince, imbued with a majestic presence—a deep black uniform, blue belt, and dazzling gold decorations—no longer bore any trace of the troublemaker so often talked about by the wealthy.
“Are you sure you don’t mind having a private conversation, Your Highness?”
The servant who had placed the coat over the Prince's shoulders asked a question with a worried look on his face.
Bjorn declared his intention to meet the King of Lars alone, without the Grand Duchess or anyone else in the delegation. While everyone else was anxious, Bjorn remained calm.
“Are you afraid that the Prince of Letzan will be beaten by the King of Lars?”
“A beating, a beating!”
"I should be more private, especially since something like that might happen. That way, I'll be less embarrassed. Don't you think so?"
Bjorn chuckled, tossing out a witty joke. The servant, meeting the Prince's cold gaze, stepped aside without adding a word.
Bjorn walked across the bedroom with long strides.
It was now the third day since they arrived in Lars. The first day was busy disembarking from the ship and traveling to Manchester Palace, the state guesthouse of the Lars royal family. The next day was spent resting all day. So today was the time for the real work to begin.
“Bjorn.”
As be entered the reception room, Erna, who had been sitting in her chair quickly rose. Her expression was as if she were a wife seeing her husband off to battle.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“If it’s not okay, would you like to accompany me?”
“As much as you want.”
Erna responded with a deep seriousness to the playful remark. The ribbon on her head swayed slightly as she nodded.
Bjorn, who was quietly looking down at his wife, let out a weak laugh without realizing it.
From the day she disembarked, Erna displayed a growing determination to fulfill her role as Grand Duchess. "How about this? How about that?" she babbled, diligently, about the things she envisioned as fitting for a Grand Duchess. Most of it was absurd, but somehow endearing enough to keep him from being speechless. Even in bed, she kept talking about it, so ne had to kiss her more than usual.
"Later."
Bjorn gently stroked the cheek of his wife, who was standing in front of him with a serious face.
“If you get beaten up, I'll get revenge for you then.”
Erna's eyes, which had been astonished, gradually narrowed.
“You’re telling another mean joke.”
Despite the sharp words, Bjorn chuckled as if nothing had happened.
Erna sighed softly and looked at her husband. He was a mysterious man in many ways, but she knew for sure that he loved teasing his wife.
“Don’t worry, wife.”
A long finger slowly stroked Erna's lips.
“If we fight, I will win.”
"Don't joke like that, Bjorn. I'm really worried."
"What?"
As his gloved fingertips touched the inside of her lips, Erna shuddered and pushed his hand away. She felt as if she'd been caught doing something bad, but Bjorn remained unfazed. This fact only made Erna feel a little more embarrassed.
“It’s because of me.”
Erna, holding his hand, spoke with a slightly sullen expression.
“I married you, so the relationship between Letzen and Lars...”
“Erna.”
The smile disappeared from Bjorn's narrowed eyes.
"There's no problem with Letzen and Lars' relationship. It's been fine, and it will be fine in the future."
“Is that really true?”
"Of course."
Bjorn was certain. Considering what he had risked for it, the alliance between the two countries had to be strong for eternity, and he was determined to make it so.
His wife doesn't get involved in that.
When Lars was chosen as the first honeymoon destination, Bjorn had already made up his mind. It would have been nice if he could have avoided it, but it was unavoidable, and if that were the case, he'd just have to deal with it as quickly as possible.
Erna, lost in thought for a moment, nodded obediently and let go of Bjorn's hand. But her eyes were still filled with worry and guilt that she hadn't quite shaken off.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“Then let me do it backwards.”
Erna's eyes widened at the words whispered in her ear. She glanced around, then looked at him again. She frowned in disbelief, then returned to a look of shock.
Bjorn chuckled again, finding it amusing. Even on the first day he'd turned over, Erna had reacted like that. It had been a night of considerable annoyance and annoyance, trying to comfort his wife, who was weeping and insisting that she was a lady, not a beast. But it had been well worth the effort. Even after that, Erna had been particularly ashamed of that position, but Bjorn loved it. The sadistic pleasure of looking down at the woman swaying beneath him, helpless, was palpable.
Bjorn kissed his wife's flushed cheek and left the drawing room. Erna, though she regarded him as a scoundrel, hesitantly saw him off. Seeing him off and then picking him up every day was one of the Grand Duchess's duties, she always babbled about.
“I, Bjorn.”
Just as the carriage door was about to close, Erna called out to him.
Bjorn leaned back against the carriage seat and cast his gaze toward his wife.
“Are you very late?”
"Maybe."
“Can we still have dinner together?”
Erna looked at him with eyes like those of a young animal abandoned alone. After a moment of thought, Bjorn nodded readily. Only then did Erna, relieved, smile brightly.
Erna gave a small wave toward the departing carriage. Her white hand, fluttering like a flower petal, made Bjorn smile. It was a gentle smile, a little different from his usual smile, a hint of warmth.
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