101. Dirty mud
Erna disappeared.
Where the woman who had been sleeping soundly disappeared, only a neatly folded blanket and a paper bag containing candy remained.
Bjorn sat there leisurely, waiting for Erna. She hadn't gone far, judging by the candy she'd been carrying around like a part of her body lately.
She's not a kid.
Bjorn's lips curved gently as he stroked the candy bag. As he put one of the light yellow candies into his mouth, a refreshing lemon scent spread. It was the same scent he'd been feeling every time he kissed Erna lately.
Rolling the candy lazily, Bjorn looked out at the forest shimmering in the warm light of the late afternoon.
Walter Hardy's fraudulent business plan will soon be resolved, the bank lawyer in charge of the case reported. While the number of investors involved was larger than expected, the scale of the problem was not insurmountable.
As quietly as possible.
That was the only thing Bjorn asked for.
Of course, since it was bigger than anything he's ever handled before, he knew he had to accept the potential for some gossip. But he hoped the rumors wouldn't reach Erna. He didn't want to see his wife cowering.
What he longed for was the beautiful Erna. The woman who looked at him dreamily, her smile like sunshine. If that meant enduring some inconvenience, Bjorn was more than willing to do it. The beautiful Erna held enough utility to justify paying that price.
Bjorn checked his pocket watch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at the bag of candy. To inform Walter Hardy, whose greed was growing ever more intense, of the Maginot Line, he would have to face him at least once. Before he could make Erna cry.
Erna.
As he repeated that name, a sweet, candy-like sigh escaped him. "Your wife." The words, written in a round, elegant handwriting, were drawn across the colorful candies.
Erna Dneister. My wife. Mine.
“Prince?”
Just as Bjorn opened his pocket watch again, a familiar voice rang out. Lisa. It was the young maid who followed Erna like a shadow.
“What about Erna?”
Bjorn frowned as he looked behind Lisa. Erna, whom he'd assumed would be with the maid, was nowhere to be seen.
“Weren't Her Highness with the Prince? I thought shr were.”
Lisa looked embarrassed.
“So what you’re saying is, you don’t know where Erna is?”
"Since she was fast asleep, I came to help the nightclub director for a while. But when I returned, Her Highness was gone. Naturally, I assumed you had gone somewhere with the Prince..."
Lisa, her face tearful, continued to explain in a rambling manner.
Bjorn gazed at the face, then surveyed the quiet forest, then checked his watch again. It was getting close to the end of the picnic.
Erna disappeared.
Bjorn stood up, reminded of a fact he could no longer take lightly.
“Erna...?”
Pavel muttered the name in disbelief. It was such a bewildering sight that he didn't even have time to think about the title.
“Oh my God. Erna!”
At the name, which burst out like a scream, Erna, who had been staggering like a ghost, stopped dead in her tracks. Her white dress, stained with dark grass here and there, swayed in the evening breeze. Her half-unraveled hair flowed down as well.
Pavel leaped down from the rock by the valley and ran frantically toward Erna. He had no energy left to pay attention to the craters carelessly thrown and rolling across the ground.
“What the hell is going on? What’s going on? Yes?”
Their eyes met, but Erna remained blank, as if blinded by anything. Her face, streaked with tear stains, was bloodless and pale, almost disfiguring her from the living.
“Erna. Can you hear me? Erna.”
Pavel wrapped his trembling hands around Erna's shoulders and shook her.
“Pavel?”
Only after blinking her reddened eyes several times slowly did Erna finally recognize him. Her eyes, scanning her surroundings, trembled with anxiety.
“Did you come here alone? With your husband and servants?”
Pavel looked at the path Erna had stumbled down with confused eyes.
“If anyone does something bad...”
“No. That’s not it.”
Erna shook her head urgently and shrugged her shoulders.
“The road... I got lost.”
“Erna.”
“I came too far while walking. I want to go back, but I don’t know the way...”
Erna continued her explanation, stammering, as she rubbed her wet eyes with trembling hands.
It's a lie.
It was a fact he could easily recognize, but Pavel nodded, feigning ignorance. He couldn't push the child any further, as if she looked precarious and ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
“I’ll go and get someone, so could you wait here for a moment?”
Pavel, who had calmed down, first sat Erna down on a flat rock.
It was a place teeming with people who would doggedly nitpick at even the slightest nitpick about the Grand Duchess. It wasn't hard to predict how Erna, appearing before them in this state with the academy's painter, would be treated. He felt a pang of self-loathing for his own cowardice, but he didn't want to let his emotions get the better of him and put Erna in even greater trouble.
After several more reassurances, Pavel turned away. He decided to forget the inexplicable anger that had welled up in his head. For Erna's sake. This cowardly choice was the best thing for Erna.
She must be hiding somewhere remote.
Those who heard the news of the Grand Duchess's disappearance generally reacted in this way. For a while, she had been meddling in various things without a second thought, but lately, she was showing a pathetic side, running away and hiding at every opportunity.
"To ruin a gathering so carefully planned like this. Only Duchess Heine is left feeling sorry for her."
A middle-aged woman clicked her tongue as she saw a group of servants rushing to search the forest.
If left alone, they would have returned on their own, but Prince Bjorn was needlessly making a fuss. That's why so many nobles stayed even though the gala ended earlier than scheduled. They couldn't afford to miss out on a spectacle more thrilling than any play. Despite the stares, the Prince acted without hesitation. He had always been self-willed, but after his absurd marriage, he had become even more reckless.
It's all his fault for mistaking his second wife.
While a few words of sympathy were exchanged for the Prince, who was repeatedly falling because of a woman, Bjorn returned. It seemed he hadn't yet found a wife.
“If anyone saw him, they would think he had lost some treasure.”
Just as disapproving remarks about the unusual situation began to circulate, the Grand Duke appeared. In a forest directly opposite the one they were searching, accompanied by two men.
“Isn’t that man the painter?”
The onlookers, who had casually passed the Duke's servant, focused their gazes on the red-haired man. Almost simultaneously, Bjorn also spotted his wife returning.
"Erna!"
Bjorn's voice, calling out that name, overwhelmed the commotion of the field. Erna, startled, stopped and looked at him with terrified eyes.
In the evening light, which strangely distorted the world, Bjorn stared at the sight. A mess. Puffy eyes. A robe, perhaps the artist's, wrapped around her trembling shoulders.
Of course, there was no room for dirty suspicion. Besides Pavel Lore, another servant was accompanying him, and no suspicious atmosphere hung between them. He was just a passerby who had helped a lady in distress. Their relationship was nothing more, nothing less.
Bjorn knew it well. Still, he found it amusing that he was consumed by such a rage. He hated Pavel Lore, who stood proudly by Erna's side. And Erna. The way she looked at him with eyes like a darkened window, and then finally turned away from him, hiding behind that damned anger, drove him mad.
Since when did it start?
Bjorn, clenching his fists so tightly it almost hurt, thought and thought, anxiously, like someone being chased by something. Was it from the time she was choosing that bastard's gift on their honeymoon? Or was it from the day they reunited as painter and Grand Duchess, that moment when they exchanged longing glances across the canvas?
Even though he already knew it was absurd, he couldn't stop speculating. Uncontrollable emotions consumed Bjorn. He felt as if he were rolling around in a filthy mess.
So you have to look at me.
Bjorn's eyes sank coldly as he saw his wife hiding behind Pavel Lore. One bright smile from that woman seemed to make everything better. But Erna, that damn woman who had dragged him into this mess, was still trembling behind another man's back.
Erna, who had disappeared, returned as a completely different woman.
The embarrassment that this fact brought was mixed with the anger of a child who had something taken from him.
How dare you, something like you.
Bjorn's gaze, which was quietly laughing, turned to Pavel Lore.
Like a thief, how dare you?
A fiery rage consumed his reason. All that remained was a feeling of anxiety bordering on fear and hatred for the artist who had dared to take what belonged to him. The fact that it was an unfair misunderstanding no longer mattered.
Bjorn, who had been tightly shut, opened his eyes and strode briskly across the field toward Erna. The onlookers, their faces drained, began to turn away, one by one.
Louise, who had been watching Bjorn with a strange sense of unease, finally felt at ease. The commotion the Grand Duchess had caused seemed to have come to an end. Just as Louise breathed a sigh of relief, the screams of the crowd erupted.
Bjorn, who had stepped forward, threw a punch. Pavel Lore, caught by surprise before he could even dodge, lost his balance, staggered, and fell to the grass.
"Oh my god!"
Just as Louise's scream erupted, Bjorn kicked the fallen painter. Startled, Erna clung to her husband's arm, but it was no use.
Excited people rushed and surrounded the fight. "What should we do? This is a disaster!" A torrent of raucous words poured out, but no one dared to intervene. Meanwhile, Pavel Lore, who had been taking a beating, stood up. His gaze, seemingly unwilling to endure any longer, further inflamed the onlookers' excitement.
“Pavel!”
When Erna called his name pleadingly, the two men were already entangled, swinging their fists. The struggle intensified as Pavel, who was as tall and built as the prince, fought with all his might.
“Stop him! Hurry up! This is going to be a disaster!”
Louise, who spotted Bjorn's friends running towards her after hearing the commotion, began to shout in desperation. They were unexpectedly thrust into the fray, and, horrified, they rushed towards Bjorn. Only with the combined strength of four men were they able to separate the Prince and the painter, who were charging at each other with the utmost intent on killing each other.
“Let go.”
Bjorn snorted and wiped the blood flowing from his split lip. Pavel Lore, too, was breathing heavily, as if ready to strike again at any moment.
“Wake up, Bjorn! Do you even realize what you’re doing?”
“Let go of this, you little shit.”
The moment Bjorn let out an annoyed sigh and pushed away Peter, who was holding onto his arm, a sharp scream erupted from the crowd.
The two men, who had been glaring at each other, simultaneously turned to where the onlookers' gazes were focused. Erna, face down on the grass, was retching in pain.
Erna.
Bjorn, mumbling the name absentmindedly, ran frantically to Erna's aid. The people, unable to enjoy this situation any longer, held their breath, and the noisy field fell silent in an instant.
The sound of the Prince's footsteps running with his wife in his arms began to shake the heavy silence.
Erna disappeared.
Where the woman who had been sleeping soundly disappeared, only a neatly folded blanket and a paper bag containing candy remained.
Bjorn sat there leisurely, waiting for Erna. She hadn't gone far, judging by the candy she'd been carrying around like a part of her body lately.
She's not a kid.
Bjorn's lips curved gently as he stroked the candy bag. As he put one of the light yellow candies into his mouth, a refreshing lemon scent spread. It was the same scent he'd been feeling every time he kissed Erna lately.
Rolling the candy lazily, Bjorn looked out at the forest shimmering in the warm light of the late afternoon.
Walter Hardy's fraudulent business plan will soon be resolved, the bank lawyer in charge of the case reported. While the number of investors involved was larger than expected, the scale of the problem was not insurmountable.
As quietly as possible.
That was the only thing Bjorn asked for.
Of course, since it was bigger than anything he's ever handled before, he knew he had to accept the potential for some gossip. But he hoped the rumors wouldn't reach Erna. He didn't want to see his wife cowering.
What he longed for was the beautiful Erna. The woman who looked at him dreamily, her smile like sunshine. If that meant enduring some inconvenience, Bjorn was more than willing to do it. The beautiful Erna held enough utility to justify paying that price.
Bjorn checked his pocket watch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at the bag of candy. To inform Walter Hardy, whose greed was growing ever more intense, of the Maginot Line, he would have to face him at least once. Before he could make Erna cry.
Erna.
As he repeated that name, a sweet, candy-like sigh escaped him. "Your wife." The words, written in a round, elegant handwriting, were drawn across the colorful candies.
Erna Dneister. My wife. Mine.
“Prince?”
Just as Bjorn opened his pocket watch again, a familiar voice rang out. Lisa. It was the young maid who followed Erna like a shadow.
“What about Erna?”
Bjorn frowned as he looked behind Lisa. Erna, whom he'd assumed would be with the maid, was nowhere to be seen.
“Weren't Her Highness with the Prince? I thought shr were.”
Lisa looked embarrassed.
“So what you’re saying is, you don’t know where Erna is?”
"Since she was fast asleep, I came to help the nightclub director for a while. But when I returned, Her Highness was gone. Naturally, I assumed you had gone somewhere with the Prince..."
Lisa, her face tearful, continued to explain in a rambling manner.
Bjorn gazed at the face, then surveyed the quiet forest, then checked his watch again. It was getting close to the end of the picnic.
Erna disappeared.
Bjorn stood up, reminded of a fact he could no longer take lightly.
***
“Erna...?”
Pavel muttered the name in disbelief. It was such a bewildering sight that he didn't even have time to think about the title.
“Oh my God. Erna!”
At the name, which burst out like a scream, Erna, who had been staggering like a ghost, stopped dead in her tracks. Her white dress, stained with dark grass here and there, swayed in the evening breeze. Her half-unraveled hair flowed down as well.
Pavel leaped down from the rock by the valley and ran frantically toward Erna. He had no energy left to pay attention to the craters carelessly thrown and rolling across the ground.
“What the hell is going on? What’s going on? Yes?”
Their eyes met, but Erna remained blank, as if blinded by anything. Her face, streaked with tear stains, was bloodless and pale, almost disfiguring her from the living.
“Erna. Can you hear me? Erna.”
Pavel wrapped his trembling hands around Erna's shoulders and shook her.
“Pavel?”
Only after blinking her reddened eyes several times slowly did Erna finally recognize him. Her eyes, scanning her surroundings, trembled with anxiety.
“Did you come here alone? With your husband and servants?”
Pavel looked at the path Erna had stumbled down with confused eyes.
“If anyone does something bad...”
“No. That’s not it.”
Erna shook her head urgently and shrugged her shoulders.
“The road... I got lost.”
“Erna.”
“I came too far while walking. I want to go back, but I don’t know the way...”
Erna continued her explanation, stammering, as she rubbed her wet eyes with trembling hands.
It's a lie.
It was a fact he could easily recognize, but Pavel nodded, feigning ignorance. He couldn't push the child any further, as if she looked precarious and ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
“I’ll go and get someone, so could you wait here for a moment?”
Pavel, who had calmed down, first sat Erna down on a flat rock.
It was a place teeming with people who would doggedly nitpick at even the slightest nitpick about the Grand Duchess. It wasn't hard to predict how Erna, appearing before them in this state with the academy's painter, would be treated. He felt a pang of self-loathing for his own cowardice, but he didn't want to let his emotions get the better of him and put Erna in even greater trouble.
After several more reassurances, Pavel turned away. He decided to forget the inexplicable anger that had welled up in his head. For Erna's sake. This cowardly choice was the best thing for Erna.
***
She must be hiding somewhere remote.
Those who heard the news of the Grand Duchess's disappearance generally reacted in this way. For a while, she had been meddling in various things without a second thought, but lately, she was showing a pathetic side, running away and hiding at every opportunity.
"To ruin a gathering so carefully planned like this. Only Duchess Heine is left feeling sorry for her."
A middle-aged woman clicked her tongue as she saw a group of servants rushing to search the forest.
If left alone, they would have returned on their own, but Prince Bjorn was needlessly making a fuss. That's why so many nobles stayed even though the gala ended earlier than scheduled. They couldn't afford to miss out on a spectacle more thrilling than any play. Despite the stares, the Prince acted without hesitation. He had always been self-willed, but after his absurd marriage, he had become even more reckless.
It's all his fault for mistaking his second wife.
While a few words of sympathy were exchanged for the Prince, who was repeatedly falling because of a woman, Bjorn returned. It seemed he hadn't yet found a wife.
“If anyone saw him, they would think he had lost some treasure.”
Just as disapproving remarks about the unusual situation began to circulate, the Grand Duke appeared. In a forest directly opposite the one they were searching, accompanied by two men.
“Isn’t that man the painter?”
The onlookers, who had casually passed the Duke's servant, focused their gazes on the red-haired man. Almost simultaneously, Bjorn also spotted his wife returning.
"Erna!"
Bjorn's voice, calling out that name, overwhelmed the commotion of the field. Erna, startled, stopped and looked at him with terrified eyes.
In the evening light, which strangely distorted the world, Bjorn stared at the sight. A mess. Puffy eyes. A robe, perhaps the artist's, wrapped around her trembling shoulders.
Of course, there was no room for dirty suspicion. Besides Pavel Lore, another servant was accompanying him, and no suspicious atmosphere hung between them. He was just a passerby who had helped a lady in distress. Their relationship was nothing more, nothing less.
Bjorn knew it well. Still, he found it amusing that he was consumed by such a rage. He hated Pavel Lore, who stood proudly by Erna's side. And Erna. The way she looked at him with eyes like a darkened window, and then finally turned away from him, hiding behind that damned anger, drove him mad.
Since when did it start?
Bjorn, clenching his fists so tightly it almost hurt, thought and thought, anxiously, like someone being chased by something. Was it from the time she was choosing that bastard's gift on their honeymoon? Or was it from the day they reunited as painter and Grand Duchess, that moment when they exchanged longing glances across the canvas?
Even though he already knew it was absurd, he couldn't stop speculating. Uncontrollable emotions consumed Bjorn. He felt as if he were rolling around in a filthy mess.
So you have to look at me.
Bjorn's eyes sank coldly as he saw his wife hiding behind Pavel Lore. One bright smile from that woman seemed to make everything better. But Erna, that damn woman who had dragged him into this mess, was still trembling behind another man's back.
Erna, who had disappeared, returned as a completely different woman.
The embarrassment that this fact brought was mixed with the anger of a child who had something taken from him.
How dare you, something like you.
Bjorn's gaze, which was quietly laughing, turned to Pavel Lore.
Like a thief, how dare you?
A fiery rage consumed his reason. All that remained was a feeling of anxiety bordering on fear and hatred for the artist who had dared to take what belonged to him. The fact that it was an unfair misunderstanding no longer mattered.
Bjorn, who had been tightly shut, opened his eyes and strode briskly across the field toward Erna. The onlookers, their faces drained, began to turn away, one by one.
Louise, who had been watching Bjorn with a strange sense of unease, finally felt at ease. The commotion the Grand Duchess had caused seemed to have come to an end. Just as Louise breathed a sigh of relief, the screams of the crowd erupted.
Bjorn, who had stepped forward, threw a punch. Pavel Lore, caught by surprise before he could even dodge, lost his balance, staggered, and fell to the grass.
"Oh my god!"
Just as Louise's scream erupted, Bjorn kicked the fallen painter. Startled, Erna clung to her husband's arm, but it was no use.
Excited people rushed and surrounded the fight. "What should we do? This is a disaster!" A torrent of raucous words poured out, but no one dared to intervene. Meanwhile, Pavel Lore, who had been taking a beating, stood up. His gaze, seemingly unwilling to endure any longer, further inflamed the onlookers' excitement.
“Pavel!”
When Erna called his name pleadingly, the two men were already entangled, swinging their fists. The struggle intensified as Pavel, who was as tall and built as the prince, fought with all his might.
“Stop him! Hurry up! This is going to be a disaster!”
Louise, who spotted Bjorn's friends running towards her after hearing the commotion, began to shout in desperation. They were unexpectedly thrust into the fray, and, horrified, they rushed towards Bjorn. Only with the combined strength of four men were they able to separate the Prince and the painter, who were charging at each other with the utmost intent on killing each other.
“Let go.”
Bjorn snorted and wiped the blood flowing from his split lip. Pavel Lore, too, was breathing heavily, as if ready to strike again at any moment.
“Wake up, Bjorn! Do you even realize what you’re doing?”
“Let go of this, you little shit.”
The moment Bjorn let out an annoyed sigh and pushed away Peter, who was holding onto his arm, a sharp scream erupted from the crowd.
The two men, who had been glaring at each other, simultaneously turned to where the onlookers' gazes were focused. Erna, face down on the grass, was retching in pain.
Erna.
Bjorn, mumbling the name absentmindedly, ran frantically to Erna's aid. The people, unable to enjoy this situation any longer, held their breath, and the noisy field fell silent in an instant.
The sound of the Prince's footsteps running with his wife in his arms began to shake the heavy silence.
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