76. I like that
“That’s... I think this necklace would go well with this dress.”
“Is that so?”
Bjorn looked at the maids standing behind Erna as if asking for their opinion.
“I don’t think so.”
The maids' faces turned thoughtful at the words he spoke softly.
In fact, he liked the necklace anyway. His wife was already dazzlingly beautiful, no matter what she wore. Still, Bjorn knew that the necklace's annoyance wasn't solely aesthetic.
“Bring it.”
Bjorn ordered the maid standing closest to Erna.
"Hurry."
Bjorn's gaze, leaving the flustered maid, returned to his wife. Even if he had removed just that one necklace, everything about this woman would already be his, but even so, that one thing was sharply tugging at his nerves.
Lisa, who had been watching the two men closely, finally followed orders and left to retrieve the necklace. Erna, sighing in despair, raised her eyes, as if on the verge of tears, and looked at her husband.
“Bjorn. I...”
“I like that, Erna.”
Bjorn's tone was affectionate, but there was not a hint of vulnerability in it.
“Let’s do that.”
Erna was unable to continue her argument in the face of those silent, suffocating gazes.
It was the first gift Bjorn had personally chosen, and therefore, it was Erna's most precious jewel. No matter what anyone said, that fact remained unchanged. However, she didn't want to be depicted wearing it on canvas. That would mean forever being remembered in Letzen's history as a pathetic and extravagant Grand Duchess, someone people would scorn with glee. All the other jewels were excessive for a Grand Duchess who had married into debt, but the necklace, which had become a symbol of self-deprecation, was something she wanted to avoid.
But Bjorn didn't seem willing to listen, and Erna couldn't muster the courage to speak. Meanwhile, Lisa returned, holding the box containing the necklace.
As Karen carefully removed her pearl necklace, Bjorn reached over and took out the diamond necklace himself. The feeling of the cool gem against the nape of her neck made her tightly closed lips tremble.
“You’re pretty, Erna.”
Bjorn, who had put the necklace on her, smiled and whispered. The compliment that had always thrilled her heart felt like a heavy, cold necklace today, like a fancy necklace around her neck.
"Thank you."
Still, Erna smiled.
She loved her husband enough to want to do that, and she hated herself just as much as he did. It was a strange feeling, one she couldn't even understand.
Pavel's hands were somewhat stiff as he sketched. This wasn't his first time drawing Erna, but he felt so nervous, perhaps because of the Prince at her side, her husband.
Pavel, catching his breath, began to focus on his painting again. The sound of charcoal moving across the canvas began to fill the still air.
The portrait of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess was to be painted in the family drawing room, with a large south-facing window. Decorated in the deep blue hues characteristic of the House of Dneister, the space, like all of the mansion, was exquisitely elegant and opulent. While he's been to many aristocratic homes, this was the first time he encountered a mansion of this scale and grandeur. It was almost intimidating.
Was that why?
Seeing Erna here felt like a complete stranger, like meeting her for the first time. The young girl he once strolled through the countryside with had vanished, leaving behind only a royal lady, as elegant and splendid as this palace. The unconscious worry that he might make the same mistake as before when he greeted the Grand Duke and his wife vanished completely the moment he saw them. It was a fortunate thing.
He can't. He won't. He refused several times, but the director of the art academy persisted. He told Pavel to think about his future. Painting royal portraits was an honor that would give wings to his career as an artist.
Pavel knew full well that what he said was right. But thinking about Erna made it hard to make a decision. He missed her so much and was curious about her, which made him even more reluctant to see her. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn't even fathom.
Finally, Pavel decided to firmly reject the proposal. But before he could even utter the words, the royal order arrived: Prince Bjorn had chosen a portrait artist. It was Pavel Lore, the artist recommended by the Academy of Arts.
'It's out of my hands now.'
The art director, who was looking at Pavel, who was in a daze, said.
'Yes, I see.'
Pavel gave a resigned reply, looking at the letter he held. The wolf seal, like the one on Erna's last letter, gleamed in the sunlight. The afterimage lingered in Pavel's consciousness for quite some time after he left the director's office.
“...Your Highness.”
Swallowing the name he almost called out without thinking, Pavel called out to the woman, both familiar and unfamiliar. Erna, who had been staring at her fingertips with downcast eyes, jerked in surprise and looked up. Prince Bjorn, standing beside his wife, also turned his gaze to Pavel.
“Could you please raise your head a little?”
Erna awkwardly raised her head at Pavel's request.
“Is this okay?”
“A little lower than that.”
“Like this?”
Erna was trying to do as requested, but this time she ended up bowing her head too deeply.
It's still the same.
Pavel's lips softened as he recalled the country girl who had no talent as a model.
Erna was a desirable model, but sitting her down at her easel made her stiff as a statue. Her expression and pose were incredibly artificial. So, Pavel enjoyed painting Erna in action amidst the Burford landscape. Erna is reading under a tree. Erna is picking apples. Erna is herding goats. Without a doubt, it was Erna who greatly contributed to the development of his croquis skills.
As if recalling the same memory, Erna smiled a little shyly and awkwardly. Her clear, kind eyes were clearly the Erna Pavel knew.
Pausing his sketch for a moment, Pavel slowly approached the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess. He looked at them as if asking for their understanding, and the Prince readily nodded.
"Look in this direction, tilt your head like this. Position your hands a little more naturally."
Pavel gestured and helped Erna get into position. Still, Erna struggled to grasp the situation, and just as she was at a loss, the Prince made his move.
“A little further down, Erna.”
He gently cupped Erna's face and guided her in the direction Pavel had intended. His hands, touching his wife, were gentle yet unhesitating.
“Hands like this.”
He now began to shape Erna's hand, which rested on his lap. His manner was as skillful as that of a Prince who had modeled for countless portraits.
“I think it’s done now, Mr. Lore.”
The Prince spoke, his back straight. It was an arrogant, arbitrary conclusion, but Pavel couldn't refute it. Erna was the very model he'd envisioned.
Pavel returned to his easel. There was no need to add anything about the Prince's pose, a perfect model.
Bright sunlight shone through the eyes of two men staring at each other.
“Would you like to take a break?”
The work, which had been proceeding smoothly, was temporarily interrupted by Pavel's suggestion.
Only then did Bjorn notice that his wife's complexion had paled noticeably. He also realized that the painter had noticed it before he did.
“I feel a little dizzy...”
When their eyes met, Erna spoke first.
“I think I’ll be okay if I rest for a bit.”
“If it’s hard, let’s stop here for today.”
“No, not to that extent.”
“Erna.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
Erna shook her head slightly and smiled. Her expression wasn't much different from usual.
After Erna, who had asked for understanding, left with the maid, the two men were now alone in the drawing room. Bjorn, sitting on the sofa, smoking a cigar, beckoned to Pavel. He seemed hesitant, but ultimately complied.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t smoke cigars, Your Highness.”
When Bjorn offered him a cigar, he gave an unexpected answer. Meanwhile, a servant arrived with a glass of ice and some whiskey.
“I’m fine.”
As the waiter, who had just poured one glass of wine, took the bottle for the next, Pavel quickly expressed his intention to decline.
“Don’t you enjoy drinking either?”
Bjorn asked, putting down his whiskey after a sip.
“Yes, Your Highness. I apologize.”
“That’s all there is to it.”
Bjorn smiled faintly and instructed his servant to bring a cup of tea. The clear sound of ice clinking against the crystal glass permeated the silence that had returned.
“Mr. Lore.”
Bjorn, who was staring at the painter sitting upright, slowly called out his name.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Then what do you like?”
Pavel's gaze turned to him.
“Except for the picture.”
Bjorn smiled again. The rounded ice crumbled and fell into the glass.
“I... enjoy reading.”
"Reading?"
“Yes. In my free time, I read books or go for walks.”
Pavel answered with utmost courtesy. He was polite, yet without a hint of servility. Bjorn stared blankly at the face of this model student, as dull as Leonid's, for a long moment.
There was no doubt that he possessed a noble character. So, even with such a woman by his side, he probably played the role of a friend or a brother. Judging by his decision to run away in the middle of the night, it seems he wasn't noble to the end.
The conversation between the two was interrupted for a moment when a servant came in to serve tea.
Bjorn leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, looking at Pavel. The lingering smoke from his cigar drifted through the deep silence between the two men.
“When do you think the portrait will be finished?”
Bjorn, who had shaken off the long ashes, changed the subject by asking a question.
“That’s... I think this necklace would go well with this dress.”
“Is that so?”
Bjorn looked at the maids standing behind Erna as if asking for their opinion.
“I don’t think so.”
The maids' faces turned thoughtful at the words he spoke softly.
In fact, he liked the necklace anyway. His wife was already dazzlingly beautiful, no matter what she wore. Still, Bjorn knew that the necklace's annoyance wasn't solely aesthetic.
“Bring it.”
Bjorn ordered the maid standing closest to Erna.
"Hurry."
Bjorn's gaze, leaving the flustered maid, returned to his wife. Even if he had removed just that one necklace, everything about this woman would already be his, but even so, that one thing was sharply tugging at his nerves.
Lisa, who had been watching the two men closely, finally followed orders and left to retrieve the necklace. Erna, sighing in despair, raised her eyes, as if on the verge of tears, and looked at her husband.
“Bjorn. I...”
“I like that, Erna.”
Bjorn's tone was affectionate, but there was not a hint of vulnerability in it.
“Let’s do that.”
Erna was unable to continue her argument in the face of those silent, suffocating gazes.
It was the first gift Bjorn had personally chosen, and therefore, it was Erna's most precious jewel. No matter what anyone said, that fact remained unchanged. However, she didn't want to be depicted wearing it on canvas. That would mean forever being remembered in Letzen's history as a pathetic and extravagant Grand Duchess, someone people would scorn with glee. All the other jewels were excessive for a Grand Duchess who had married into debt, but the necklace, which had become a symbol of self-deprecation, was something she wanted to avoid.
But Bjorn didn't seem willing to listen, and Erna couldn't muster the courage to speak. Meanwhile, Lisa returned, holding the box containing the necklace.
As Karen carefully removed her pearl necklace, Bjorn reached over and took out the diamond necklace himself. The feeling of the cool gem against the nape of her neck made her tightly closed lips tremble.
“You’re pretty, Erna.”
Bjorn, who had put the necklace on her, smiled and whispered. The compliment that had always thrilled her heart felt like a heavy, cold necklace today, like a fancy necklace around her neck.
"Thank you."
Still, Erna smiled.
She loved her husband enough to want to do that, and she hated herself just as much as he did. It was a strange feeling, one she couldn't even understand.
***
Pavel's hands were somewhat stiff as he sketched. This wasn't his first time drawing Erna, but he felt so nervous, perhaps because of the Prince at her side, her husband.
Pavel, catching his breath, began to focus on his painting again. The sound of charcoal moving across the canvas began to fill the still air.
The portrait of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess was to be painted in the family drawing room, with a large south-facing window. Decorated in the deep blue hues characteristic of the House of Dneister, the space, like all of the mansion, was exquisitely elegant and opulent. While he's been to many aristocratic homes, this was the first time he encountered a mansion of this scale and grandeur. It was almost intimidating.
Was that why?
Seeing Erna here felt like a complete stranger, like meeting her for the first time. The young girl he once strolled through the countryside with had vanished, leaving behind only a royal lady, as elegant and splendid as this palace. The unconscious worry that he might make the same mistake as before when he greeted the Grand Duke and his wife vanished completely the moment he saw them. It was a fortunate thing.
He can't. He won't. He refused several times, but the director of the art academy persisted. He told Pavel to think about his future. Painting royal portraits was an honor that would give wings to his career as an artist.
Pavel knew full well that what he said was right. But thinking about Erna made it hard to make a decision. He missed her so much and was curious about her, which made him even more reluctant to see her. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn't even fathom.
Finally, Pavel decided to firmly reject the proposal. But before he could even utter the words, the royal order arrived: Prince Bjorn had chosen a portrait artist. It was Pavel Lore, the artist recommended by the Academy of Arts.
'It's out of my hands now.'
The art director, who was looking at Pavel, who was in a daze, said.
'Yes, I see.'
Pavel gave a resigned reply, looking at the letter he held. The wolf seal, like the one on Erna's last letter, gleamed in the sunlight. The afterimage lingered in Pavel's consciousness for quite some time after he left the director's office.
“...Your Highness.”
Swallowing the name he almost called out without thinking, Pavel called out to the woman, both familiar and unfamiliar. Erna, who had been staring at her fingertips with downcast eyes, jerked in surprise and looked up. Prince Bjorn, standing beside his wife, also turned his gaze to Pavel.
“Could you please raise your head a little?”
Erna awkwardly raised her head at Pavel's request.
“Is this okay?”
“A little lower than that.”
“Like this?”
Erna was trying to do as requested, but this time she ended up bowing her head too deeply.
It's still the same.
Pavel's lips softened as he recalled the country girl who had no talent as a model.
Erna was a desirable model, but sitting her down at her easel made her stiff as a statue. Her expression and pose were incredibly artificial. So, Pavel enjoyed painting Erna in action amidst the Burford landscape. Erna is reading under a tree. Erna is picking apples. Erna is herding goats. Without a doubt, it was Erna who greatly contributed to the development of his croquis skills.
As if recalling the same memory, Erna smiled a little shyly and awkwardly. Her clear, kind eyes were clearly the Erna Pavel knew.
Pausing his sketch for a moment, Pavel slowly approached the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess. He looked at them as if asking for their understanding, and the Prince readily nodded.
"Look in this direction, tilt your head like this. Position your hands a little more naturally."
Pavel gestured and helped Erna get into position. Still, Erna struggled to grasp the situation, and just as she was at a loss, the Prince made his move.
“A little further down, Erna.”
He gently cupped Erna's face and guided her in the direction Pavel had intended. His hands, touching his wife, were gentle yet unhesitating.
“Hands like this.”
He now began to shape Erna's hand, which rested on his lap. His manner was as skillful as that of a Prince who had modeled for countless portraits.
“I think it’s done now, Mr. Lore.”
The Prince spoke, his back straight. It was an arrogant, arbitrary conclusion, but Pavel couldn't refute it. Erna was the very model he'd envisioned.
Pavel returned to his easel. There was no need to add anything about the Prince's pose, a perfect model.
Bright sunlight shone through the eyes of two men staring at each other.
***
“Would you like to take a break?”
The work, which had been proceeding smoothly, was temporarily interrupted by Pavel's suggestion.
Only then did Bjorn notice that his wife's complexion had paled noticeably. He also realized that the painter had noticed it before he did.
“I feel a little dizzy...”
When their eyes met, Erna spoke first.
“I think I’ll be okay if I rest for a bit.”
“If it’s hard, let’s stop here for today.”
“No, not to that extent.”
“Erna.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
Erna shook her head slightly and smiled. Her expression wasn't much different from usual.
After Erna, who had asked for understanding, left with the maid, the two men were now alone in the drawing room. Bjorn, sitting on the sofa, smoking a cigar, beckoned to Pavel. He seemed hesitant, but ultimately complied.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t smoke cigars, Your Highness.”
When Bjorn offered him a cigar, he gave an unexpected answer. Meanwhile, a servant arrived with a glass of ice and some whiskey.
“I’m fine.”
As the waiter, who had just poured one glass of wine, took the bottle for the next, Pavel quickly expressed his intention to decline.
“Don’t you enjoy drinking either?”
Bjorn asked, putting down his whiskey after a sip.
“Yes, Your Highness. I apologize.”
“That’s all there is to it.”
Bjorn smiled faintly and instructed his servant to bring a cup of tea. The clear sound of ice clinking against the crystal glass permeated the silence that had returned.
“Mr. Lore.”
Bjorn, who was staring at the painter sitting upright, slowly called out his name.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Then what do you like?”
Pavel's gaze turned to him.
“Except for the picture.”
Bjorn smiled again. The rounded ice crumbled and fell into the glass.
“I... enjoy reading.”
"Reading?"
“Yes. In my free time, I read books or go for walks.”
Pavel answered with utmost courtesy. He was polite, yet without a hint of servility. Bjorn stared blankly at the face of this model student, as dull as Leonid's, for a long moment.
There was no doubt that he possessed a noble character. So, even with such a woman by his side, he probably played the role of a friend or a brother. Judging by his decision to run away in the middle of the night, it seems he wasn't noble to the end.
The conversation between the two was interrupted for a moment when a servant came in to serve tea.
Bjorn leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, looking at Pavel. The lingering smoke from his cigar drifted through the deep silence between the two men.
“When do you think the portrait will be finished?”
Bjorn, who had shaken off the long ashes, changed the subject by asking a question.
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