61. The thorny path
He seems crazy.
Bjorn gave himself a relatively objective assessment. There seemed to be no other explanation for his behavior, like a novice who'd never met a woman before.
He didn't mean for it to be like this, but it turned out like this.
He just wanted to get inside this woman. The moment he hugged Erna. No. Maybe it was from the moment he heard that sweet voice calling his name.
Well, either way anyway.
Clearing his mind of distracting thoughts, Bjorn looked down at the woman swaying beneath him with a gaze that was a mixture of self-mockery and desire.
“Just as you learned, Erna.”
Bjorn's hand gripped her soft hair, gaining strength. Erna, who had been turning her head away from him, turned to face him with a small scream.
“You have to see me.”
Looking at that frightened face, Bjorn thrust his hips up with all his might. Erna swayed and screamed as he commanded. Her face was clearly agitated, but even then, her eyes were deeply sunken.
Why on earth?
Bjorn's gaze sharpened, filled with doubt. He found it amusing that he'd rushed in without even having time to undress, and his irritation with his wife, who was acting unusually stiff today, grew.
Bjorn let out a heavy sigh and paused for a moment before turning his wife over and laying her down.
“Bjorn?”
Erna, who had fallen face down on the sheet in an instant, turned her face blankly to look at him. Bjorn, without answering, sat down behind his wife. Realizing the meaning of his actions, Erna frantically tried to sit up, but Bjorn was already inside her.
After catching his breath for a moment, Bjorn began to move greedily. It was ridiculous to try to save face when she was already being attacked like a young animal.
Every time he thrust his waist, Erna shook and let out a moan that she could no longer hold back.
Good. I like it.
The sound of wet flesh slapping against each other and Erna's thin moans formed a strange harmony.
This is also good. I like it very much.
As Bjorn gazed down at her white body and hair, swaying with each thrust of his waist, a sense of satisfaction began to creep into him. Gladys, who had been looming over her, was forgotten, the lingering, uneasy feeling vanished, and all that remained was the fulfillment emanating from the woman before him.
“Moan more erotically.”
Bjorn, who had pushed himself to the very bottom, paused for a moment before giving his order. Erna shook her head violently, but her resistance was not very effective.
“I can’t do that. I hate it.”
“No way.”
Unable to withstand the fierce force, Erna kept crumbling, and Bjorn held her tightly, kissing her neck as if biting it, and increased his pace. Erna's moans were now drenched in moisture, a distinct difference from her cries.
“Look at this, Erna. You’re doing great.”
He hugged her slender, sagging body and whispered affectionately, as if praising a good child. Erna was still trembling, but it no longer bothered him.
Bjorn, seized by a somewhat sadistic desire, began to move. Even as he swayed helplessly, Erna steadily tightened her hold. Bjorn's low moans, unable to contain his excitement, mingled dizzily with the sound of splashing water.
"Ah...!"
Just when it seemed she could no longer speak, Erna let out a shrill scream, laced with the sound of metal. Bjorn, bending down, bit her neck. Unlike the mischievous prank he'd played, this time, it was as if he was literally strangling her prey.
Erna twisted the sheet in agony.
The pain was somehow upsetting. The feel of the clothes on her back, the ragged breathing, the sensations in her body betraying her will. But what hurt more was herself. Erna Dneister, who had been childishly delighted at the sight of Bjorn's return, who had so much to say, who, even in such a moment, was foolishly unable to hate this man.
She know.
There's no need to be swayed by the careless words of others. You didn't choose marriage without knowing this would happen, did you? This honeymoon wasn't just any honeymoon, and you were already prepared for the fact that you'd have to become an invisible shadow in Princess Gladys's kingdom.
So it's okay. It should be okay.
Erna swallowed back the sobs that welled up in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. "You'll definitely do well," her grandmother's gentle voice echoed in her mind. She also recalled the resolve she'd made to become stronger, gazing out at the vast ocean of the deep night. Meanwhile, Bjorn, having placed a long kiss on the bite marks he'd carved, turned Erna over and laid her down.
Watching Erna's lips twitch as if to say something, Bjorn untied his tie. Then, again, he grabbed her ankles, spread her legs wide, and thrust in. He pulled out almost all the way and then thrust in again with all his might. Erna let out a moan, almost a sob, and twisted her waist. His bite marks and the redness of her blood were clearly etched on her arched white neck. Her trembling shoulders and rippling chest echoed the same sentiment.
A satisfied smile spread across the corners of Bjorn's lips as he looked down at Erna.
My straight flush.
Enjoying a sense of fulfillment mixed with a faint intoxication, Bjorn leaned toward his satisfied bride. He merely tried to brush her sweat-soaked hair, but Erna shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. A vivid fear etched across her face, making it feel as if all the heat had drained from her for a moment.
“Erna.”
As he tried to stroke her cheek, Erna began trembling violently, as if overcome by a sudden chill. In that moment, when he felt trapped by the feeling that he was some bastard who'd laid a hand on a woman, Bjorn suddenly recalled an unwelcome name.
Walter Hardy.
The man's face, which he never wanted to recall from his bed, overlapped with the memory of the woman sitting in the square in front of the central station on a summer night when the rain was pouring down, a mess after being beaten by her father.
Bjorn looked at his frightened wife with a slightly dazed expression. A fresh sense of contempt for the man, along with a pang of self-loathing, washed over him.
Have you ever been treated like that?
As he looks at her father, who committed such a crime, he has been...
"...It's okay."
Erna's outstretched hand touched Bjorn's shoulder as he tried to get up.
“I don’t hate it. It’s not like that. It’s just a little...”
Erna, unable to find the right words, carefully raised her hand and cupped Bjorn's cheek.
Today, he was unusually rough, and the strong smell of alcohol evoked a moment of fear, but that didn't mean she disliked or feared Bjorn. She knew full well he wasn't the kind of man who would harm her.
“Bjorn.”
Erna mustered up a little more courage and stroked his head. The hair flowing through her fingers was as soft as fine sand. Bjorn simply stared at her with a squinted look, not letting go of her touch.
“Just slow down a little.”
Erna whispered, mustering up her courage.
“Could you please slow down a little bit?”
Although her fingertips were still trembling slightly, the memories of the days when she was beaten by her drunken father no longer tormented Erna.
Bjorn, who was staring blankly into Erna's eyes, let out a long sigh with a hollow laugh.
It was funny.
This situation. This woman. And above all, himself, who doesn't hate this ridiculous moment so much.
Instead of answering, Bjorn took Erna's hand, which was resting on his cheek, and gently kissed her wrist, where her pulse was pulsing.
The unlucky things he's left behind across the ocean came flooding back. Walter Hardy. And the countless bastards who'd drooled and raged over this woman thrown into the marriage market. It was absurd how, even as those faces flashed before his eyes, his desires could still be fervent.
"Thank you."
When Bjorn lifted his head after a long kiss, Erna offered a quiet smile. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was an awkward, yet rather bold gesture.
“It’s okay now.”
Erna put strength into the arms that held him, as if to prove her resolve.
“Please continue.”
In an innocent voice, Erna whispered provocative words. Bjorn, who had been dazed for a moment, let out a hot sigh and laughed.
It felt like he was drunk on alcohol, but he didn't even drink.
It didn't feel that bad.
The affair, which had begun hastily and fiercely, ended in a much more intimate atmosphere.
Bjorn remained inside Erna until her breathing calmed and her body cooled. He kissed her flushed face and smoothed her tangled hair.
Every time that happened, Erna would shyly avert her gaze. She'd always been so adventurous with her flirting, and now she was imitating a courtesan. His wife's ambivalence, born of ignorance, was both cheeky and endearing.
Bjorn stood up, leaving Erna, who was now feeling shy, behind. It was then that Erna grabbed him tightly. Bjorn turned his head and looked down at the small woman clinging to his arm.
“Don’t go, Bjorn.”
In contrast to her trembling eyes, Erna's voice was clear and distinct.
“I would like to sleep here together.”
That story again.
Bjorn smiled casually and kissed his whining wife's cheek.
“Rest, Erna.”
“Come on, let’s rest together.”
Erna, who would normally have given up at this point, for some reason showed no signs of backing down.
“Erna.”
Bjorn sighed and turned around. Erna was still clutching the hem of his shirt with both hands.
“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with someone else.”
“Me too.”
“Then we can both choose the path that is most convenient for us.”
"We're a couple, so shouldn't we be together, even if it's a little uncomfortable? They say marriage is a journey two people walk together on a thorny path."
“Who says such nonsense?”
“The Archbishop.”
Even though her face looked like she was about to burst into tears, Erna clung tenaciously. Bjorn, momentarily forgetting the growing irritation, chuckled.
“Erna, that’s just the plausible sophistry of someone who has never walked a thorny path in their entire life.”
“Your Highness, you are married to God, too.”
Even as she spouted nonsense, Erna remained consistently serious. Bjorn was speechless, only letting out a short sigh. He felt like he wanted to cover the archbishop's bed with thorns, for spouting nonsense that wasn't his business.
“Let’s try a little harder, yes?”
“Why should it be like that?”
“You are my husband.”
Erna answered with strength as if she had been waiting.
“What on earth is your husband?”
At this point, even Bjorn's question contained serious doubt.
"He's family. He's my closest friend, and he's also my lover. He's my lifelong companion, my support, my dreams, my hopes, and my love."
After a moment of hesitation, Erna continued to answer smoothly this time as well.
“Was that also the Archbishop’s sermon?”
Bjorn was determined to lay thorns on the old man's bed.
“No. This is purely my opinion.”
Fortunately, the decision, which could have easily escalated into a war between religion and the royal family, was averted thanks to Erna's sharp response.
Bjorn was about to ask if that wasn't a bit of a religious belief, but instead laughed. It was Erna's eyes, filled with unwavering trust.
After standing for a while, staring up at the ceiling, Bjorn let out a long sigh with a resigned expression. Erna, perhaps expecting him to get angry, flinched but still held onto his arm with all her might.
“Are you planning to not only sleep together but also wash together?”
“Yes? Ah...”
Erna, startled, finally let him go.
“I’m sorry. You should go now.”
The face of joy at finally getting what she wanted done shone brightly even in the dim darkness.
Bjorn, who had been silently gazing down at the woman, who was both quite annoying and cute, impulsively picked Erna up. It felt unfair to give away everything without getting anything in return, so he decided to try and gain something.
Erna, who realized his intentions, started to struggle, but Bjorn ignored her and headed towards the bathroom.
It was a deep autumn night when the thorny path began.
He seems crazy.
Bjorn gave himself a relatively objective assessment. There seemed to be no other explanation for his behavior, like a novice who'd never met a woman before.
He didn't mean for it to be like this, but it turned out like this.
He just wanted to get inside this woman. The moment he hugged Erna. No. Maybe it was from the moment he heard that sweet voice calling his name.
Well, either way anyway.
Clearing his mind of distracting thoughts, Bjorn looked down at the woman swaying beneath him with a gaze that was a mixture of self-mockery and desire.
“Just as you learned, Erna.”
Bjorn's hand gripped her soft hair, gaining strength. Erna, who had been turning her head away from him, turned to face him with a small scream.
“You have to see me.”
Looking at that frightened face, Bjorn thrust his hips up with all his might. Erna swayed and screamed as he commanded. Her face was clearly agitated, but even then, her eyes were deeply sunken.
Why on earth?
Bjorn's gaze sharpened, filled with doubt. He found it amusing that he'd rushed in without even having time to undress, and his irritation with his wife, who was acting unusually stiff today, grew.
Bjorn let out a heavy sigh and paused for a moment before turning his wife over and laying her down.
“Bjorn?”
Erna, who had fallen face down on the sheet in an instant, turned her face blankly to look at him. Bjorn, without answering, sat down behind his wife. Realizing the meaning of his actions, Erna frantically tried to sit up, but Bjorn was already inside her.
After catching his breath for a moment, Bjorn began to move greedily. It was ridiculous to try to save face when she was already being attacked like a young animal.
Every time he thrust his waist, Erna shook and let out a moan that she could no longer hold back.
Good. I like it.
The sound of wet flesh slapping against each other and Erna's thin moans formed a strange harmony.
This is also good. I like it very much.
As Bjorn gazed down at her white body and hair, swaying with each thrust of his waist, a sense of satisfaction began to creep into him. Gladys, who had been looming over her, was forgotten, the lingering, uneasy feeling vanished, and all that remained was the fulfillment emanating from the woman before him.
“Moan more erotically.”
Bjorn, who had pushed himself to the very bottom, paused for a moment before giving his order. Erna shook her head violently, but her resistance was not very effective.
“I can’t do that. I hate it.”
“No way.”
Unable to withstand the fierce force, Erna kept crumbling, and Bjorn held her tightly, kissing her neck as if biting it, and increased his pace. Erna's moans were now drenched in moisture, a distinct difference from her cries.
“Look at this, Erna. You’re doing great.”
He hugged her slender, sagging body and whispered affectionately, as if praising a good child. Erna was still trembling, but it no longer bothered him.
Bjorn, seized by a somewhat sadistic desire, began to move. Even as he swayed helplessly, Erna steadily tightened her hold. Bjorn's low moans, unable to contain his excitement, mingled dizzily with the sound of splashing water.
"Ah...!"
Just when it seemed she could no longer speak, Erna let out a shrill scream, laced with the sound of metal. Bjorn, bending down, bit her neck. Unlike the mischievous prank he'd played, this time, it was as if he was literally strangling her prey.
Erna twisted the sheet in agony.
The pain was somehow upsetting. The feel of the clothes on her back, the ragged breathing, the sensations in her body betraying her will. But what hurt more was herself. Erna Dneister, who had been childishly delighted at the sight of Bjorn's return, who had so much to say, who, even in such a moment, was foolishly unable to hate this man.
She know.
There's no need to be swayed by the careless words of others. You didn't choose marriage without knowing this would happen, did you? This honeymoon wasn't just any honeymoon, and you were already prepared for the fact that you'd have to become an invisible shadow in Princess Gladys's kingdom.
So it's okay. It should be okay.
Erna swallowed back the sobs that welled up in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. "You'll definitely do well," her grandmother's gentle voice echoed in her mind. She also recalled the resolve she'd made to become stronger, gazing out at the vast ocean of the deep night. Meanwhile, Bjorn, having placed a long kiss on the bite marks he'd carved, turned Erna over and laid her down.
Watching Erna's lips twitch as if to say something, Bjorn untied his tie. Then, again, he grabbed her ankles, spread her legs wide, and thrust in. He pulled out almost all the way and then thrust in again with all his might. Erna let out a moan, almost a sob, and twisted her waist. His bite marks and the redness of her blood were clearly etched on her arched white neck. Her trembling shoulders and rippling chest echoed the same sentiment.
A satisfied smile spread across the corners of Bjorn's lips as he looked down at Erna.
My straight flush.
Enjoying a sense of fulfillment mixed with a faint intoxication, Bjorn leaned toward his satisfied bride. He merely tried to brush her sweat-soaked hair, but Erna shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. A vivid fear etched across her face, making it feel as if all the heat had drained from her for a moment.
“Erna.”
As he tried to stroke her cheek, Erna began trembling violently, as if overcome by a sudden chill. In that moment, when he felt trapped by the feeling that he was some bastard who'd laid a hand on a woman, Bjorn suddenly recalled an unwelcome name.
Walter Hardy.
The man's face, which he never wanted to recall from his bed, overlapped with the memory of the woman sitting in the square in front of the central station on a summer night when the rain was pouring down, a mess after being beaten by her father.
Bjorn looked at his frightened wife with a slightly dazed expression. A fresh sense of contempt for the man, along with a pang of self-loathing, washed over him.
Have you ever been treated like that?
As he looks at her father, who committed such a crime, he has been...
"...It's okay."
Erna's outstretched hand touched Bjorn's shoulder as he tried to get up.
“I don’t hate it. It’s not like that. It’s just a little...”
Erna, unable to find the right words, carefully raised her hand and cupped Bjorn's cheek.
Today, he was unusually rough, and the strong smell of alcohol evoked a moment of fear, but that didn't mean she disliked or feared Bjorn. She knew full well he wasn't the kind of man who would harm her.
“Bjorn.”
Erna mustered up a little more courage and stroked his head. The hair flowing through her fingers was as soft as fine sand. Bjorn simply stared at her with a squinted look, not letting go of her touch.
“Just slow down a little.”
Erna whispered, mustering up her courage.
“Could you please slow down a little bit?”
Although her fingertips were still trembling slightly, the memories of the days when she was beaten by her drunken father no longer tormented Erna.
Bjorn, who was staring blankly into Erna's eyes, let out a long sigh with a hollow laugh.
It was funny.
This situation. This woman. And above all, himself, who doesn't hate this ridiculous moment so much.
Instead of answering, Bjorn took Erna's hand, which was resting on his cheek, and gently kissed her wrist, where her pulse was pulsing.
The unlucky things he's left behind across the ocean came flooding back. Walter Hardy. And the countless bastards who'd drooled and raged over this woman thrown into the marriage market. It was absurd how, even as those faces flashed before his eyes, his desires could still be fervent.
"Thank you."
When Bjorn lifted his head after a long kiss, Erna offered a quiet smile. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was an awkward, yet rather bold gesture.
“It’s okay now.”
Erna put strength into the arms that held him, as if to prove her resolve.
“Please continue.”
In an innocent voice, Erna whispered provocative words. Bjorn, who had been dazed for a moment, let out a hot sigh and laughed.
It felt like he was drunk on alcohol, but he didn't even drink.
It didn't feel that bad.
***
The affair, which had begun hastily and fiercely, ended in a much more intimate atmosphere.
Bjorn remained inside Erna until her breathing calmed and her body cooled. He kissed her flushed face and smoothed her tangled hair.
Every time that happened, Erna would shyly avert her gaze. She'd always been so adventurous with her flirting, and now she was imitating a courtesan. His wife's ambivalence, born of ignorance, was both cheeky and endearing.
Bjorn stood up, leaving Erna, who was now feeling shy, behind. It was then that Erna grabbed him tightly. Bjorn turned his head and looked down at the small woman clinging to his arm.
“Don’t go, Bjorn.”
In contrast to her trembling eyes, Erna's voice was clear and distinct.
“I would like to sleep here together.”
That story again.
Bjorn smiled casually and kissed his whining wife's cheek.
“Rest, Erna.”
“Come on, let’s rest together.”
Erna, who would normally have given up at this point, for some reason showed no signs of backing down.
“Erna.”
Bjorn sighed and turned around. Erna was still clutching the hem of his shirt with both hands.
“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with someone else.”
“Me too.”
“Then we can both choose the path that is most convenient for us.”
"We're a couple, so shouldn't we be together, even if it's a little uncomfortable? They say marriage is a journey two people walk together on a thorny path."
“Who says such nonsense?”
“The Archbishop.”
Even though her face looked like she was about to burst into tears, Erna clung tenaciously. Bjorn, momentarily forgetting the growing irritation, chuckled.
“Erna, that’s just the plausible sophistry of someone who has never walked a thorny path in their entire life.”
“Your Highness, you are married to God, too.”
Even as she spouted nonsense, Erna remained consistently serious. Bjorn was speechless, only letting out a short sigh. He felt like he wanted to cover the archbishop's bed with thorns, for spouting nonsense that wasn't his business.
“Let’s try a little harder, yes?”
“Why should it be like that?”
“You are my husband.”
Erna answered with strength as if she had been waiting.
“What on earth is your husband?”
At this point, even Bjorn's question contained serious doubt.
"He's family. He's my closest friend, and he's also my lover. He's my lifelong companion, my support, my dreams, my hopes, and my love."
After a moment of hesitation, Erna continued to answer smoothly this time as well.
“Was that also the Archbishop’s sermon?”
Bjorn was determined to lay thorns on the old man's bed.
“No. This is purely my opinion.”
Fortunately, the decision, which could have easily escalated into a war between religion and the royal family, was averted thanks to Erna's sharp response.
Bjorn was about to ask if that wasn't a bit of a religious belief, but instead laughed. It was Erna's eyes, filled with unwavering trust.
After standing for a while, staring up at the ceiling, Bjorn let out a long sigh with a resigned expression. Erna, perhaps expecting him to get angry, flinched but still held onto his arm with all her might.
“Are you planning to not only sleep together but also wash together?”
“Yes? Ah...”
Erna, startled, finally let him go.
“I’m sorry. You should go now.”
The face of joy at finally getting what she wanted done shone brightly even in the dim darkness.
Bjorn, who had been silently gazing down at the woman, who was both quite annoying and cute, impulsively picked Erna up. It felt unfair to give away everything without getting anything in return, so he decided to try and gain something.
Erna, who realized his intentions, started to struggle, but Bjorn ignored her and headed towards the bathroom.
It was a deep autumn night when the thorny path began.
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