77. Looks good
Pavel took a sip of tea to moisten his parched mouth and calmly explained his plans for the future. Bjorn's attentive demeanor was impeccable, yet it made him seem even more detached. Pavel was certain the Prince couldn't even remember half of what he had just said.
“What about Erna?”
The empty conversation ended with a brief question from Bjorn, who had called the maid over.
“She’s feeling much better. She said she’ll be back soon.”
Bjorn nodded and threw the cigar he was holding loosely between his fingers into the ashtray.
Pavel, realizing the meaning of the gesture, bowed silently, then stood up and returned to his easel. Perhaps the suffocating feeling was due to the confusion caused by that Prince, as rumored.
He was lighthearted yet commanding, elegant yet arrogant. Even in moments of leisurely play, he showed no weaknesses. The fact that he could not read the other person's true intentions, even when they were smiling in vain, was somewhat disconcerting.
Pavel, catching his breath silently, began to prepare to resume his work, sharpening his charcoal. The Prince, who had been drinking his last drink at the window overlooking the river, approached the easel, his glass now empty, loosely clutching it.
“Keep going.”
He stopped Pavel from putting down his knife and proceeded to examine the canvases and supplies with a listless gaze. He moved slowly, as if enjoying a leisurely stroll, yet without any frills. Only after turning away did Pavel realize he had broken a piece of charcoal.
Will Erna be happy next to that man?
As if to erase the unconscious question, Pavel concentrated solely on sharpening the charcoal he held in his hand. The squeak of the blade, the slow clatter of his shoes, and the sound of ice sloshing in his empty glass filled the tense air of the drawing room.
Finally, Pavel, having broken the charcoal again, lifted his head with a quiet sigh. At the same time, Bjorn's steps stopped.
“It looks good.”
The Prince, who was inspecting the workbench, hummed something. Pavel turned his head to where the Peliaze craters were, and unconsciously clenched his fists.
“These are gifts I received from a grateful person.”
“Ah. A gift.”
The Prince's gaze, brushing past the paintbrush and the cradle, turned to Pavel. His languidly open gray eyes held no particular emotion, but for some reason, Pavel swallowed, his throat parched.
“Her Highness has arrived.”
The maid's voice flowed cautiously between the two men standing facing each other.
Almost simultaneously, Bjorn and Pavel's gazes turned to the entrance of the reception room, where a noise had been heard. Erna stood there, smiling slightly awkwardly.
“Oh my goodness, Your Highness!”
The startled maid's scream echoed through the spire at the western end of the Grand Duke's residence. Erna, startled, turned around to find a box of chocolates in her hand.
“Ah. It was Karen.”
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“I just... wanted to get some fresh air.”
Erna smiled awkwardly and turned around. The sunset light filtering through the spire's windows flushed her slightly weary face.
"I'm sorry if I startled you too much. I thought no one would come here. I unintentionally put Karen in a difficult position again."
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
Karen sighed silently and cleared her surprised chest.
The door leading to the spire was open, so she assumed a maid and a servant were secretly having a love affair. But who would have thought it was the Grand Duchess again?
Erna had been popping up in unexpected places lately, startling Karen. The pottery room. The stairs leading to the coal shed. The unused well. Most of them were remote places the owner wouldn't frequent. Who would have thought she'd use the mansion floor plans she'd memorized like this?
It was mid-last month that Erna committed such an outrageous act. She asked to see the mansion's floor plan, so Karen brought it to her, and over the course of several days, she became familiar with the layout and spaces of every floor.
'Could it be that you heard us?'
It was on the fourth night of the Grand Duchess's erratic behavior that a maid expressed their cautious question. The servants' lounge, once filled with laughter and ridicule, suddenly fell silent, as if a cold shower had been poured over it.
The Grand Duchess got lost several times within the mansion, and each time she became the butt of the servants' jokes. Of course, they were just small groups whispering, but with so many ears listening, there was no way to prevent the rumors from leaking out.
'What if that's really the case? What if she tells the Prince?'
The young maid, terrified, looked at Karen with a tearful face.
'Don't worry about useless things.'
Karen, who had been standing still without saying anything, stood up with a blank expression.
'That won't happen'
Everyone looked puzzled by her confident tone, but Karen left the break room without adding any further explanation.
Since then, the Grand Duchess has never been seen wandering around the mansion again. Instead, she acts like a ghost, appearing out of nowhere.
“If you keep eating that, it’s bad for your health, Your Highness.”
Karen pointed with a slight frown to the Grand Duchess's box of chocolates. She always held one when she appeared as a ghost.
“I didn’t eat much.”
“But please don’t eat it on a day like today. Aren’t you suffering from a stomachache?”
The image of the Grand Duchess, who had stopped posing for a portrait and had vomited up her stomach, floated up to her, hovering over a box of colorful chocolates. Even when Karen suggested that if she was too tired, she should send the painter away and rest, Erna stubbornly refused to budge, determined to finish her work. She smiled brightly, a smile that belied the one she'd just vomited.
“That necklace, Your Highness.”
Karen spoke impulsively. Erna, who had been fiddling with the box of chocolates, looked at her with slightly surprised eyes.
“Don’t pay too much attention to the nonsense people are spreading.”
Karen, clearing her throat, continued calmly. After watching her quietly for a moment, Erna let out a small "Ah," and stroked the diamond necklace around her neck.
The servants who accompanied her on her honeymoon knew that the jewel was a gift unrelated to the Grand Duchess's wishes. While the Grand Duchess was undoubtedly a noblewoman with many shortcomings, she was not the type to indulge in frivolous luxury. Perhaps, if anything, she was excessively frugal, even a bit slovenly.
Even if the Grand Duchess had coaxed her husband into giving her the necklace, there would have been no reason for such a major scandal. If the owner of the necklace had been another royal lady, not Erna, no one would have raised an issue.
The only problem was that Erna was Erna.
If it weren't for the necklace, people would have found another excuse to slaughter the Grand Duchess. The shameless seductress who usurped Princess Gladys's place deserves to be condemned.
Karen held that view, and likely will continue to do so, but she found it difficult to relax about this matter. Perhaps it was because she had witnessed the Grand Duchess' bewilderment and confusion at the sight of the jeweler her husband had sent her that day. She could vaguely imagine her unwillingness to have her portrait painted with that necklace, yet ultimately yielded to her husband's insistence.
“Are you worried about me?”
Erna faced Karen with a gentle smile, like that evening.
"That..."
“Thank you, Karen. Sincerely.”
Erna, having changed her mind and decided to follow the maid's advice, took out a handkerchief and wiped her hands thoroughly. Her stomach was already starting to ache. If she finished the rest of the chocolate, she might not be able to eat dinner.
Erna descended the spire, clutching the box of chocolates, clanking with the few remaining. Perhaps it was the sweet treats and the cool breeze that lifted her spirits. Even climbing these stairs, she had been so upset and depressed.
Pavel left the Grand Duke's residence in the late afternoon.
There was so much she wanted to say, but nothing she could. All they could exchange was a few formal, stiff greetings. She expected it, but reuniting with her friend that way inevitably left her feeling sullen. Erna also felt renewed resentment toward her husband, who had unilaterally decided to become a painter.
But she couldn't reveal her feelings. She didn't want to create any unnecessary misunderstandings. That would ruin not only her reputation, but also Pavel's and Bjorn's. Erna didn't want to be that kind of wife.
It was okay to be ignored and ridiculed by everyone else. No. In fact, it wasn't entirely okay, but she could endure it. As long as she had Bjorn. If only he would acknowledge her sincerity, if only he would consider her a good wife, if only they could live happily ever after, Erna felt like everything would be okay.
As she entered the hallway leading to the bedroom, she saw Mrs. Fitz walking from the opposite direction.
“You have arrived, Your Highness.”
She stopped a few steps ahead and offered a polite greeting. Erna returned the gesture with a nod.
No, it won't work.
She bowed her head in unison, and it was the appearance of a Grand Duchess that had been created by the strict admonition she had heard so many times.
“I’m sorry for leaving without permission.”
“No. Now that you’re back, I’ll tell them to prepare dinner.”
“I’ll discuss that with Bjorn and then decide.”
A look of embarrassment appeared in Mrs. Fitz's eyes as she looked at the smiling Erna.
“Your Highness, that is...”
The wrinkles between her brows deepened as she hesitated to speak. Karen, standing behind Erna, also held her breath.
“The Prince has gone out.”
Mrs. Fitz's voice, mixed with a sigh, flowed into the tense atmosphere.
“He’ll probably be very late.”
It was an unrealistic story, like the sunset that filled the hallway.
Pavel took a sip of tea to moisten his parched mouth and calmly explained his plans for the future. Bjorn's attentive demeanor was impeccable, yet it made him seem even more detached. Pavel was certain the Prince couldn't even remember half of what he had just said.
“What about Erna?”
The empty conversation ended with a brief question from Bjorn, who had called the maid over.
“She’s feeling much better. She said she’ll be back soon.”
Bjorn nodded and threw the cigar he was holding loosely between his fingers into the ashtray.
Pavel, realizing the meaning of the gesture, bowed silently, then stood up and returned to his easel. Perhaps the suffocating feeling was due to the confusion caused by that Prince, as rumored.
He was lighthearted yet commanding, elegant yet arrogant. Even in moments of leisurely play, he showed no weaknesses. The fact that he could not read the other person's true intentions, even when they were smiling in vain, was somewhat disconcerting.
Pavel, catching his breath silently, began to prepare to resume his work, sharpening his charcoal. The Prince, who had been drinking his last drink at the window overlooking the river, approached the easel, his glass now empty, loosely clutching it.
“Keep going.”
He stopped Pavel from putting down his knife and proceeded to examine the canvases and supplies with a listless gaze. He moved slowly, as if enjoying a leisurely stroll, yet without any frills. Only after turning away did Pavel realize he had broken a piece of charcoal.
Will Erna be happy next to that man?
As if to erase the unconscious question, Pavel concentrated solely on sharpening the charcoal he held in his hand. The squeak of the blade, the slow clatter of his shoes, and the sound of ice sloshing in his empty glass filled the tense air of the drawing room.
Finally, Pavel, having broken the charcoal again, lifted his head with a quiet sigh. At the same time, Bjorn's steps stopped.
“It looks good.”
The Prince, who was inspecting the workbench, hummed something. Pavel turned his head to where the Peliaze craters were, and unconsciously clenched his fists.
“These are gifts I received from a grateful person.”
“Ah. A gift.”
The Prince's gaze, brushing past the paintbrush and the cradle, turned to Pavel. His languidly open gray eyes held no particular emotion, but for some reason, Pavel swallowed, his throat parched.
“Her Highness has arrived.”
The maid's voice flowed cautiously between the two men standing facing each other.
Almost simultaneously, Bjorn and Pavel's gazes turned to the entrance of the reception room, where a noise had been heard. Erna stood there, smiling slightly awkwardly.
***
“Oh my goodness, Your Highness!”
The startled maid's scream echoed through the spire at the western end of the Grand Duke's residence. Erna, startled, turned around to find a box of chocolates in her hand.
“Ah. It was Karen.”
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“I just... wanted to get some fresh air.”
Erna smiled awkwardly and turned around. The sunset light filtering through the spire's windows flushed her slightly weary face.
"I'm sorry if I startled you too much. I thought no one would come here. I unintentionally put Karen in a difficult position again."
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
Karen sighed silently and cleared her surprised chest.
The door leading to the spire was open, so she assumed a maid and a servant were secretly having a love affair. But who would have thought it was the Grand Duchess again?
Erna had been popping up in unexpected places lately, startling Karen. The pottery room. The stairs leading to the coal shed. The unused well. Most of them were remote places the owner wouldn't frequent. Who would have thought she'd use the mansion floor plans she'd memorized like this?
It was mid-last month that Erna committed such an outrageous act. She asked to see the mansion's floor plan, so Karen brought it to her, and over the course of several days, she became familiar with the layout and spaces of every floor.
'Could it be that you heard us?'
It was on the fourth night of the Grand Duchess's erratic behavior that a maid expressed their cautious question. The servants' lounge, once filled with laughter and ridicule, suddenly fell silent, as if a cold shower had been poured over it.
The Grand Duchess got lost several times within the mansion, and each time she became the butt of the servants' jokes. Of course, they were just small groups whispering, but with so many ears listening, there was no way to prevent the rumors from leaking out.
'What if that's really the case? What if she tells the Prince?'
The young maid, terrified, looked at Karen with a tearful face.
'Don't worry about useless things.'
Karen, who had been standing still without saying anything, stood up with a blank expression.
'That won't happen'
Everyone looked puzzled by her confident tone, but Karen left the break room without adding any further explanation.
Since then, the Grand Duchess has never been seen wandering around the mansion again. Instead, she acts like a ghost, appearing out of nowhere.
“If you keep eating that, it’s bad for your health, Your Highness.”
Karen pointed with a slight frown to the Grand Duchess's box of chocolates. She always held one when she appeared as a ghost.
“I didn’t eat much.”
“But please don’t eat it on a day like today. Aren’t you suffering from a stomachache?”
The image of the Grand Duchess, who had stopped posing for a portrait and had vomited up her stomach, floated up to her, hovering over a box of colorful chocolates. Even when Karen suggested that if she was too tired, she should send the painter away and rest, Erna stubbornly refused to budge, determined to finish her work. She smiled brightly, a smile that belied the one she'd just vomited.
“That necklace, Your Highness.”
Karen spoke impulsively. Erna, who had been fiddling with the box of chocolates, looked at her with slightly surprised eyes.
“Don’t pay too much attention to the nonsense people are spreading.”
Karen, clearing her throat, continued calmly. After watching her quietly for a moment, Erna let out a small "Ah," and stroked the diamond necklace around her neck.
The servants who accompanied her on her honeymoon knew that the jewel was a gift unrelated to the Grand Duchess's wishes. While the Grand Duchess was undoubtedly a noblewoman with many shortcomings, she was not the type to indulge in frivolous luxury. Perhaps, if anything, she was excessively frugal, even a bit slovenly.
Even if the Grand Duchess had coaxed her husband into giving her the necklace, there would have been no reason for such a major scandal. If the owner of the necklace had been another royal lady, not Erna, no one would have raised an issue.
The only problem was that Erna was Erna.
If it weren't for the necklace, people would have found another excuse to slaughter the Grand Duchess. The shameless seductress who usurped Princess Gladys's place deserves to be condemned.
Karen held that view, and likely will continue to do so, but she found it difficult to relax about this matter. Perhaps it was because she had witnessed the Grand Duchess' bewilderment and confusion at the sight of the jeweler her husband had sent her that day. She could vaguely imagine her unwillingness to have her portrait painted with that necklace, yet ultimately yielded to her husband's insistence.
“Are you worried about me?”
Erna faced Karen with a gentle smile, like that evening.
"That..."
“Thank you, Karen. Sincerely.”
Erna, having changed her mind and decided to follow the maid's advice, took out a handkerchief and wiped her hands thoroughly. Her stomach was already starting to ache. If she finished the rest of the chocolate, she might not be able to eat dinner.
Erna descended the spire, clutching the box of chocolates, clanking with the few remaining. Perhaps it was the sweet treats and the cool breeze that lifted her spirits. Even climbing these stairs, she had been so upset and depressed.
Pavel left the Grand Duke's residence in the late afternoon.
There was so much she wanted to say, but nothing she could. All they could exchange was a few formal, stiff greetings. She expected it, but reuniting with her friend that way inevitably left her feeling sullen. Erna also felt renewed resentment toward her husband, who had unilaterally decided to become a painter.
But she couldn't reveal her feelings. She didn't want to create any unnecessary misunderstandings. That would ruin not only her reputation, but also Pavel's and Bjorn's. Erna didn't want to be that kind of wife.
It was okay to be ignored and ridiculed by everyone else. No. In fact, it wasn't entirely okay, but she could endure it. As long as she had Bjorn. If only he would acknowledge her sincerity, if only he would consider her a good wife, if only they could live happily ever after, Erna felt like everything would be okay.
As she entered the hallway leading to the bedroom, she saw Mrs. Fitz walking from the opposite direction.
“You have arrived, Your Highness.”
She stopped a few steps ahead and offered a polite greeting. Erna returned the gesture with a nod.
No, it won't work.
She bowed her head in unison, and it was the appearance of a Grand Duchess that had been created by the strict admonition she had heard so many times.
“I’m sorry for leaving without permission.”
“No. Now that you’re back, I’ll tell them to prepare dinner.”
“I’ll discuss that with Bjorn and then decide.”
A look of embarrassment appeared in Mrs. Fitz's eyes as she looked at the smiling Erna.
“Your Highness, that is...”
The wrinkles between her brows deepened as she hesitated to speak. Karen, standing behind Erna, also held her breath.
“The Prince has gone out.”
Mrs. Fitz's voice, mixed with a sigh, flowed into the tense atmosphere.
“He’ll probably be very late.”
It was an unrealistic story, like the sunset that filled the hallway.
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