86. Mild neurosis
As they left the space filled with cold lumps of iron, a landscape filled with all sorts of rare and beautiful things unfolded before them.
There, Erna became the protagonist of a fairy tale.
The distant East, the desert, countless nameless kingdoms. Unfamiliar plants and animals. Curious objects. She wandered through this exotic world with her prince. It was a miraculous day, making Erna forget all about her honeymoon, which left her with few regrets. No matter what anyone says, that was how it felt for Erna.
When she pointed to a magnificent carpet that seemed to magically fly through the sky, Bjorn smiled. When she was surprised by the elephant, he held her hand. They even shared a brief kiss beneath the stained glass windows, bathed in enchanting light.
Wherever she turned her gaze, there was always Bjorn.
Erna loved that fact, so she often looked at her husband. There were moments when she wished she could capture the entirety of his expression in her eyes. If she could, there would be a constant barrage of fireworks and smoke exploding overhead, just like the night they first saw fireworks together.
“What’s so funny?”
Only after hearing Bjorn's question did Erna realize that she was laughing blandly.
"...No."
Feeling embarrassed to even express her feelings in detail, Erna tried to muddle through. Bjorn chuckled, and at that moment, another spark exploded in Erna's mind, like a bang. Those memories erased the ungrateful thoughts that had plagued her for days.
Resolve to love this destiny, Erna strengthened her grip on her husband's arm. She resolved to try a little harder. To reach him with sincerity someday. Even if she couldn't erase Princess Gladys's shadow, she hoped to carve a space for herself beneath it, a faint ray of sunlight. Perhaps thanks to that resolve, Erna's steps on her way back felt much lighter and more brisk.
Erna looked back with regret, but left the exhibition hall without a trace. Having gone the furthest, the Grand Duke and Duchess of Schwerin were the last to arrive. Seeing the royal carriages waiting for them, Erna's heart raced, and she quickened her pace.
“Everyone, step back! Step back!”
Despite the guard's stern orders, people flocked to see the Grand Duchess and her husband. It was no exaggeration to say that the Grand Duchess of Schwerin was the most popular member of the royal family these days.
Erna's face had already turned pale. The deafening noise and endless crowd felt like suffocating her. She'd rather run and get into the carriage, but if she did, her face would be on the front page of the tabloids tomorrow morning, along with mocking articles calling her an undignified Grand Duchess.
So, she has to be determined.
Erna, gathering strength in her trembling legs, resumed her halting pace. The carriage was just around the corner. So, just a little longer. Just a little longer...
“Erna!”
The moment she took another step forward, widening her stride, Bjorn's sharp scream rang out.
The memories of the next moment remained only fragments. Bjorn's embrace, the sound of people screaming, the brisk movement of the guards.
“That witch who usurped Princess Gladys’s seat is ruining the royal family!”
A roar of evil overpowered all the commotion.
Erna stared blankly in the direction the sound had come from. A man, captured by the guards, was there, swearing. His eyes, gleaming with a hatred that could almost be called madness, glared at Erna, spewing a torrent of accusations and curses.
“Are you alright, Prince?”
A servant approached and asked a question in a trembling voice. Only then did Erna realize that Bjorn's back was stained with broken eggs. Then, the whole situation finally made sense.
“That witch is a demon! She’s the one who will ruin the royal family and bring down Letzen!”
Even as he was dragged away, tied up, the attacker continued to struggle.
Bjorn turned to face him, throwing off his tattered jacket. Erna hurriedly tried to stop him.
“No! Don’t do that!”
Her cold hands began to tremble, but Erna held on tightly to his arms, refusing to let go. Meanwhile, the two Princes rushed in and surrounded Bjorn.
“Calm down, Bjorn.”
Leonid gripped Bjorn's shoulder firmly.
“Get out of the way.”
“Many eyes are watching.”
When Leonid nodded, Christian, who had been flustered, offered a helping hand. Fortunately, the attacker had already disappeared, out of sight.
Bjorn slowly opened his eyes, which had been closed, and let out a low curse mixed with a laugh. Even then, his cold eyes remained fixed on the direction the culprit had disappeared into.
“Your Highness, Your Highness!”
Bjorn, who had been roughly shoving the two brothers away, turned his head in surprise at the servant's scream from behind him. He saw Erna collapse on the floor, gasping for breath as if strangled.
Bjorn, completely oblivious to the presence of the man he had determined to pursue and kill, hurriedly embraced his wife. Even in his arms, Erna trembled, her mind lost. Her pale face was so pale it was hard to believe she belonged to a living person.
Bjorn ran to the carriage, holding his wife tightly in his arms. There was only murmuring and hushing, and no one dared to block the Prince's path any longer.
“Brother. This is...”
Christian, who had picked up the Grand Duchess's belongings from the floor, stopped Leonid, who was about to leave. Leonid, who had casually accepted them, hia eyes sunken deeply.
Exhibition pamphlets and commemorative postcards.
It was too shabby a trace to be left behind by a devil.
Catherine Owen left the old, shabby publishing house with a hardened face. Her face was weary and worn, but even then, her eyes held a cold, fiery anger.
This led to a search of every publisher in Lars' capital and rejection from every single one of them.
Gerald Owen, the genius poet who was Lars's pride and joy. His untimely death made him a legend. The manuscript, like a testament, was left behind and was being treated with such disrespect. A feeling of shock and resentment spilled out, turning into laughter. Seeing those who had once gone to great lengths to obtain even a single line of Gerald Owen's scribbles now so cautiously, it seemed to her that this manuscript truly held immense power.
Catherine Owen, struggling to control her anger, hugged tightly the manuscript that was practically her brother's will.
She discovered this this spring.
The house, which had been empty since his suicide, was finally cleared out this year. It was a decision his mother, unable to accept her son's death, finally made with resignation. The Lars Academy of Arts wanted to preserve the house as the poet's birthplace and turn it into a memorial, and the bereaved family agreed. She felt grateful for this. Until she discovered this bundle of manuscripts hidden beneath the floorboards.
The name that gave me life and also killed me.
To Gladys, my love and also my abyss.
When Catherine opened the envelope, which was tightly sealed with wax, she saw a thick wad of paper with a dedication written with great force on the front page.
The manuscript was filled with letters in the form of poetry. All addressed to one person: Gladys Hartford, the lover he called love and the abyss.
The day Catherine learned the cruel truth, conveyed in language more beautiful than any poem he'd ever written, she resolved to leave this manuscript as her brother's legacy, to be known to the world. And that resolve still held true. Publishers weren't limited to this city, were they? If they were rejected in other cities, Catherine was willing to cross the ocean. Surely not all publishers on the continent would cower in fear of the Lars royal family.
Catherine Owen, her hat pulled down low, began walking down the sun-drenched street with a determined stride. Carrying the will of a man who died for love, she reached for the name that shone brightly above his grave.
When the attending doctor arrived at Schwerin Palace, the Grand Duchess appeared to have regained her composure. Aside from an overly pale smile, which she said was nothing serious, there were no other symptoms to worry about. Her breathing was stable, and her stomach cramps had subsided.
Mild neurosis.
Therefore, that was the only diagnosis Dr. Erickson could make. He was concerned about the young Grand Duchess, who was enduring the unbelievable with laughter, but he daredn't dare to interfere.
“Let’s see if I can leave that lunatic alone.”
As the doctor left, Lisa burst into tears, her suppressed anger pouring out.
“I’ll throw eggs at that guy, too. Until his head gets smashed in!”
"I'm fine, Lisa. It's just... an egg. I'm not the one who got hit by it."
"How fortunate that Your Highness didn't have to endure such hardship. The Prince did a hundred times better."
“I wonder.”
The tired smile that had been lingering on Erna's lips disappeared.
“I’m... Lisa, I think it would have been better if it had been me.”
As the stain of the rotten egg that had soiled Bjorn came to mind, tears involuntarily welled up in her eyes.
The assailant was said to be a schizophrenic. He believed that the one who had driven Princess Gladys out and killed her child was the current Grand Duchess, and that this demon would ultimately destroy the royal family. It was a truly absurd crime born from a mental illness.
So, Erna didn't want to take it to heart, but it didn't work out as well as she hoped. This was especially true when she thought of Bjorn.
Erna, who had tightly shut her eyes, reluctant to cry, opened them and finally got up from the bed. The pain in her leg sent her reeling. Fortunately, Lisa quickly came over and helped her up, preventing her from falling to the floor.
“You have to be careful, yes?”
Lisa looked at her little bandaged foot, feeling upset and at a loss.
Erna, who had gone out wearing new shoes, returned with bruised feet. Blood was even staining her stockings, but she seemed to only realize it after Lisa screamed.
The thought of Erna, who had spent the entire day strolling through the vast exhibition hall with such feet, nearly filled Lisa with anger. But she couldn't say anything because she knew her heart. A foolish, unrequited love, a yearning to look even a little pretty to her husband, a joy in spending time with him. And yet, it all ended in a madman's surprise attack. The thought of how the tycoons would troll her made Lisa's stomach turn.
Lisa, suppressing her anger with a deep breath, helped Erna, who was struggling to walk, to sit on the chair by the window. Erna, her face suddenly smiling, stared blankly at Lisa.
“You’ll definitely keep your promise, right?”
Lisa was about to get really angry, but this time she could only nod obediently.
Erna didn't even show her injured foot to her doctor. She said she didn't want anyone to know. Lisa vaguely understood that this was the bare minimum Erna wanted to maintain.
Erna sat by the window, enjoying the breeze as if nothing had happened. Then, as if it were another ordinary night, she returned to bed and lay down.
After Lisa quietly withdrew, Erna slowly closed her eyes in the deep silence that followed. Soon after, the bedroom door opened without a knock. It was Bjorn.
As they left the space filled with cold lumps of iron, a landscape filled with all sorts of rare and beautiful things unfolded before them.
There, Erna became the protagonist of a fairy tale.
The distant East, the desert, countless nameless kingdoms. Unfamiliar plants and animals. Curious objects. She wandered through this exotic world with her prince. It was a miraculous day, making Erna forget all about her honeymoon, which left her with few regrets. No matter what anyone says, that was how it felt for Erna.
When she pointed to a magnificent carpet that seemed to magically fly through the sky, Bjorn smiled. When she was surprised by the elephant, he held her hand. They even shared a brief kiss beneath the stained glass windows, bathed in enchanting light.
Wherever she turned her gaze, there was always Bjorn.
Erna loved that fact, so she often looked at her husband. There were moments when she wished she could capture the entirety of his expression in her eyes. If she could, there would be a constant barrage of fireworks and smoke exploding overhead, just like the night they first saw fireworks together.
“What’s so funny?”
Only after hearing Bjorn's question did Erna realize that she was laughing blandly.
"...No."
Feeling embarrassed to even express her feelings in detail, Erna tried to muddle through. Bjorn chuckled, and at that moment, another spark exploded in Erna's mind, like a bang. Those memories erased the ungrateful thoughts that had plagued her for days.
Resolve to love this destiny, Erna strengthened her grip on her husband's arm. She resolved to try a little harder. To reach him with sincerity someday. Even if she couldn't erase Princess Gladys's shadow, she hoped to carve a space for herself beneath it, a faint ray of sunlight. Perhaps thanks to that resolve, Erna's steps on her way back felt much lighter and more brisk.
Erna looked back with regret, but left the exhibition hall without a trace. Having gone the furthest, the Grand Duke and Duchess of Schwerin were the last to arrive. Seeing the royal carriages waiting for them, Erna's heart raced, and she quickened her pace.
“Everyone, step back! Step back!”
Despite the guard's stern orders, people flocked to see the Grand Duchess and her husband. It was no exaggeration to say that the Grand Duchess of Schwerin was the most popular member of the royal family these days.
Erna's face had already turned pale. The deafening noise and endless crowd felt like suffocating her. She'd rather run and get into the carriage, but if she did, her face would be on the front page of the tabloids tomorrow morning, along with mocking articles calling her an undignified Grand Duchess.
So, she has to be determined.
Erna, gathering strength in her trembling legs, resumed her halting pace. The carriage was just around the corner. So, just a little longer. Just a little longer...
“Erna!”
The moment she took another step forward, widening her stride, Bjorn's sharp scream rang out.
The memories of the next moment remained only fragments. Bjorn's embrace, the sound of people screaming, the brisk movement of the guards.
“That witch who usurped Princess Gladys’s seat is ruining the royal family!”
A roar of evil overpowered all the commotion.
Erna stared blankly in the direction the sound had come from. A man, captured by the guards, was there, swearing. His eyes, gleaming with a hatred that could almost be called madness, glared at Erna, spewing a torrent of accusations and curses.
“Are you alright, Prince?”
A servant approached and asked a question in a trembling voice. Only then did Erna realize that Bjorn's back was stained with broken eggs. Then, the whole situation finally made sense.
“That witch is a demon! She’s the one who will ruin the royal family and bring down Letzen!”
Even as he was dragged away, tied up, the attacker continued to struggle.
Bjorn turned to face him, throwing off his tattered jacket. Erna hurriedly tried to stop him.
“No! Don’t do that!”
Her cold hands began to tremble, but Erna held on tightly to his arms, refusing to let go. Meanwhile, the two Princes rushed in and surrounded Bjorn.
“Calm down, Bjorn.”
Leonid gripped Bjorn's shoulder firmly.
“Get out of the way.”
“Many eyes are watching.”
When Leonid nodded, Christian, who had been flustered, offered a helping hand. Fortunately, the attacker had already disappeared, out of sight.
Bjorn slowly opened his eyes, which had been closed, and let out a low curse mixed with a laugh. Even then, his cold eyes remained fixed on the direction the culprit had disappeared into.
“Your Highness, Your Highness!”
Bjorn, who had been roughly shoving the two brothers away, turned his head in surprise at the servant's scream from behind him. He saw Erna collapse on the floor, gasping for breath as if strangled.
Bjorn, completely oblivious to the presence of the man he had determined to pursue and kill, hurriedly embraced his wife. Even in his arms, Erna trembled, her mind lost. Her pale face was so pale it was hard to believe she belonged to a living person.
Bjorn ran to the carriage, holding his wife tightly in his arms. There was only murmuring and hushing, and no one dared to block the Prince's path any longer.
“Brother. This is...”
Christian, who had picked up the Grand Duchess's belongings from the floor, stopped Leonid, who was about to leave. Leonid, who had casually accepted them, hia eyes sunken deeply.
Exhibition pamphlets and commemorative postcards.
It was too shabby a trace to be left behind by a devil.
***
Catherine Owen left the old, shabby publishing house with a hardened face. Her face was weary and worn, but even then, her eyes held a cold, fiery anger.
This led to a search of every publisher in Lars' capital and rejection from every single one of them.
Gerald Owen, the genius poet who was Lars's pride and joy. His untimely death made him a legend. The manuscript, like a testament, was left behind and was being treated with such disrespect. A feeling of shock and resentment spilled out, turning into laughter. Seeing those who had once gone to great lengths to obtain even a single line of Gerald Owen's scribbles now so cautiously, it seemed to her that this manuscript truly held immense power.
Catherine Owen, struggling to control her anger, hugged tightly the manuscript that was practically her brother's will.
She discovered this this spring.
The house, which had been empty since his suicide, was finally cleared out this year. It was a decision his mother, unable to accept her son's death, finally made with resignation. The Lars Academy of Arts wanted to preserve the house as the poet's birthplace and turn it into a memorial, and the bereaved family agreed. She felt grateful for this. Until she discovered this bundle of manuscripts hidden beneath the floorboards.
The name that gave me life and also killed me.
To Gladys, my love and also my abyss.
When Catherine opened the envelope, which was tightly sealed with wax, she saw a thick wad of paper with a dedication written with great force on the front page.
The manuscript was filled with letters in the form of poetry. All addressed to one person: Gladys Hartford, the lover he called love and the abyss.
The day Catherine learned the cruel truth, conveyed in language more beautiful than any poem he'd ever written, she resolved to leave this manuscript as her brother's legacy, to be known to the world. And that resolve still held true. Publishers weren't limited to this city, were they? If they were rejected in other cities, Catherine was willing to cross the ocean. Surely not all publishers on the continent would cower in fear of the Lars royal family.
Catherine Owen, her hat pulled down low, began walking down the sun-drenched street with a determined stride. Carrying the will of a man who died for love, she reached for the name that shone brightly above his grave.
***
When the attending doctor arrived at Schwerin Palace, the Grand Duchess appeared to have regained her composure. Aside from an overly pale smile, which she said was nothing serious, there were no other symptoms to worry about. Her breathing was stable, and her stomach cramps had subsided.
Mild neurosis.
Therefore, that was the only diagnosis Dr. Erickson could make. He was concerned about the young Grand Duchess, who was enduring the unbelievable with laughter, but he daredn't dare to interfere.
“Let’s see if I can leave that lunatic alone.”
As the doctor left, Lisa burst into tears, her suppressed anger pouring out.
“I’ll throw eggs at that guy, too. Until his head gets smashed in!”
"I'm fine, Lisa. It's just... an egg. I'm not the one who got hit by it."
"How fortunate that Your Highness didn't have to endure such hardship. The Prince did a hundred times better."
“I wonder.”
The tired smile that had been lingering on Erna's lips disappeared.
“I’m... Lisa, I think it would have been better if it had been me.”
As the stain of the rotten egg that had soiled Bjorn came to mind, tears involuntarily welled up in her eyes.
The assailant was said to be a schizophrenic. He believed that the one who had driven Princess Gladys out and killed her child was the current Grand Duchess, and that this demon would ultimately destroy the royal family. It was a truly absurd crime born from a mental illness.
So, Erna didn't want to take it to heart, but it didn't work out as well as she hoped. This was especially true when she thought of Bjorn.
Erna, who had tightly shut her eyes, reluctant to cry, opened them and finally got up from the bed. The pain in her leg sent her reeling. Fortunately, Lisa quickly came over and helped her up, preventing her from falling to the floor.
“You have to be careful, yes?”
Lisa looked at her little bandaged foot, feeling upset and at a loss.
Erna, who had gone out wearing new shoes, returned with bruised feet. Blood was even staining her stockings, but she seemed to only realize it after Lisa screamed.
The thought of Erna, who had spent the entire day strolling through the vast exhibition hall with such feet, nearly filled Lisa with anger. But she couldn't say anything because she knew her heart. A foolish, unrequited love, a yearning to look even a little pretty to her husband, a joy in spending time with him. And yet, it all ended in a madman's surprise attack. The thought of how the tycoons would troll her made Lisa's stomach turn.
Lisa, suppressing her anger with a deep breath, helped Erna, who was struggling to walk, to sit on the chair by the window. Erna, her face suddenly smiling, stared blankly at Lisa.
“You’ll definitely keep your promise, right?”
Lisa was about to get really angry, but this time she could only nod obediently.
Erna didn't even show her injured foot to her doctor. She said she didn't want anyone to know. Lisa vaguely understood that this was the bare minimum Erna wanted to maintain.
Erna sat by the window, enjoying the breeze as if nothing had happened. Then, as if it were another ordinary night, she returned to bed and lay down.
After Lisa quietly withdrew, Erna slowly closed her eyes in the deep silence that followed. Soon after, the bedroom door opened without a knock. It was Bjorn.
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