102. A terribly long day
“Why did you do that?”
Erna, who had been sitting listlessly, staring out the window, finally spoke when the Grand Duke's bridge came into view across the river. Her dress was covered in mud and grass, her hair disheveled, and her complexion pale. She looked a stark contrast to the beautiful lady who had set out that morning. What would normally have been heartbreaking and unbearable now felt unbearably trivial and vain.
“Why on earth did you do that to Pavel?”
Erna slowly turned her head and looked at Bjorn, who was sitting next to her. His face, his eyes tightly closed, was devoid of any emotion.
“Bjorn.”
“Be quiet, Erna.”
Bjorn opened his eyes with a sigh and gave a low command.
“Don’t add a single word.”
The sunken, gray eyes held a chilling, cold anger.
While Erna, speechless, just smiled, Bjorn closed his eyes again.
A trophy won at a gambling table.
The cruel words that had crossed Bjorn's face began to pierce her heart again.
Erna knew it wasn't love. But she believed there was at least a modicum of sincerity. Even if it was just sympathy for a poor woman who had fallen into trouble because of her own fault.
But to you, I wasn't even an object of pity.
When she realized that, she was overcome with sadness greater than anger.
Erna trusted Bjorn.
No matter what anyone said, Erna was the only one who protected her in this unfamiliar and fearful world.
She loved that kind of Bjorn.
It was a feeling that had already started long before she realized it, and it was only at that moment, ironically, when her mind was crumbling down, that she realized it.
The night their eyes met under the umbrella that stopped the cold rain. The moment when the sky was adorned with beautiful fireworks she's never seen before. Or the party on Harbor Street. No. Perhaps, in the darkened gallery of an art exhibition, that moment when she locked eyes with the Prince who had abruptly kissed her hand. Even then, as she gazed at the smile on Bjorn's lips and listened to the thumping, irregular beating of her heart.
As Erna reminisced, she became increasingly miserable. The trophy he'd won in a bet he'd started for fun. He'd given himself so much of his heart to the scheme to win it, it was so ridiculous and miserable that she found it hard to bear.
It was a salvation for me, but it was just a joke for you.
Erna tried desperately to hold back her tears, but her vision was already clouded by the tears that had welled up. She wished she could at least shout and demand answers. But she couldn't bring herself to do so, and her sorrow deepened.
No matter how bad his reputation, he was once the Prince who would become the next King of this country. He was a man who could easily marry a daughter of a prominent family if he so chose. Now that Erna realized she was nothing more than a trophy, the absurdity of this marriage became even more apparent. And now, she was in no position to blame Bjorn.
The Baden family mansion and the lives of their families he protected. The enormous debt of the Hardy family he repaid in return, and the ongoing repercussions of her father's actions. The weight of all that he had unknowingly incurred weighed heavily on her heart. So how could she dare shamelessly blame this man?
If Bjorn had truly chosen this marriage because he needed a trophy to keep him company, to shield him from troublesome tasks, Erna had to endure even more. This humiliation and sorrow—the pain she had to pay for this undeserved position—would never be enough to repay all she had endured.
A lump of deficit.
Erna suddenly became afraid at the thought that she might actually be treated like that.
Bjorn was meticulous in his calculations. He was ruthless in that regard, and there was no way he could tolerate a trophy he deemed useless and a waste of money.
At most, it's only for a year.
Just as the taunting words she didn't want to recall began to ring like tinnitus, the carriage pulled into the Grand Duke's bridge. Here, as she recalled herself waiting for Bjorn with a pounding heart, Erna burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer.
She gave him her favorite flower.
Amidst the pouring tears, she remembered the token of promise she had given to Bjorn that day. She couldn't express how delighted she was that he readily accepted the gift. Just imagining the Prince pinning it to his lapel made her heart swell with a flower.
How ridiculous that must have looked to this man.
The sound of crying, pouring out the sorrow that had welled up within, drowned out the rattling sound of the carriage wheels.
“Don’t cry, Erna.”
Bjorn looked at his wife with a face filled with uncontrollable irritation.
"Why are you crying? I'm the one who became a cripple, so why are you crying?"
The words that came out of his mouth were so pathetic that he couldn't help but laugh.
Embrace.
Erna knew she had done nothing wrong. It was he who had gone berserk over something trivial and ruined everything. The most horrifying thing was knowing this, yet being unable to do anything about it. It was the same then, and it is the same now.
Erna, terrified, curled up into a small ball and swallowed her sobs. Just as the weight of the sunset, her delicate back, seemed to struggle to bear, it began to irritate her hypersensitive nerves; the carriage fortunately came to a halt.
“The attending doctor will arrive shortly.”
Mrs. Fitz approached the two men as they disembarked from the carriage and hurriedly reported. It seemed the message he had sent ahead of time had been properly delivered. Bjorn responded with a curt nod.
“And I think the Prince should go and see His Majesty.”
"Now?"
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Even in front of Bjorn, whose displeasure was evident, Mrs. Fitz maintained a firm attitude.
“There was a very strict order to come to the summer palace as soon as you returned.”
As the last wolf was lifted, the air in the study became even heavier.
The Schwerin police chief carefully raised the teacup he held in his firm hand to his lips. Even that seemingly insignificant gesture seemed so sensitive. He felt as if he were prey thrown into a beast's cage.
“Please explain that to Bjorn, too.”
At the Crown Prince's words, he put down his teacup with a despairing sigh. A cool sea breeze blew, making the evening not particularly hot, but the police commissioner's hand on his forehead was drenched in cold sweat.
"That is..."
His lips, already dry, trembled with tension. It would have been easier for the King and the Crown Prince. Facing the Grand Duke, the man directly involved in this matter, he felt his breath catch in his throat.
This news would send even the most exhilarating mood spiraling downward, but he already had the look of a grim reaper. And with those chapped lips and disheveled clothes, it was clear he'd just been in a fight.
“Speak.”
The Grand Duke, who had been quietly watching him, calmly urged him on. Though his manner was polite, it wasn't difficult to discern the fatigue and irritation beneath.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
The police chief first offered an apology.
"If I'd known about it in advance, I would have tried to stop it somehow, but he stopped by the newspaper office before coming to the police station, so there was nothing I could do. Still, I felt I needed to alert Your Majesty and the Grand Duke as soon as possible, so..."
“Let’s get to the point.”
The Grand Duke cut him off with a frown.
“Slowly. So I can understand.”
The words he spoke slowly and steadily felt like a sharp, piercing blade. The police chief, momentarily stunned, closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again.
"A man named Hans Weber, who runs a trading company, visited the Schwerin police station this afternoon to report someone who lured him with a false promise of strong support and then extorted a bribe."
The police chief gave a brief summary of the incident in a businesslike voice, devoid of emotion.
"He had already reported the incident to the newspaper before he went to the police station, and the incident was featured as a headline in today's evening paper. It seems like it's going to be a difficult situation for me to handle on my own."
He wiped his now-damp hands on the hem of his trousers and took a deep breath. He should have had a vague idea by now, but the Grand Duke's eyes, watching him, remained bafflingly silent.
"Sorry."
He bowed deeply, once again offering his apology. Then, avoiding the Grand Duke's gaze, he got to the point.
“Hans Weber has filed a complaint against Her Royal Highness the Grand Duchess, and an investigation into the matter will begin soon.”
“You crazy bastard.”
That was the only thing Leonid could say today, once again. It wasn't something one would say to a husband whose wife was embroiled in such a horrific scandal. But if that husband was Bjorn Dneister, things were a little different.
“Are you laughing now?”
Leonid stood in front of Bjorn, stunned. Bjorn, who had been giggling as he walked down the hallway, met him with a lingering smile.
From the moment he heard about it until now, Bjorn has never shown a serious attitude.
Oh, I see.
These were the first words Bjorn uttered upon learning that his wife had been accused of fraud. It was a reaction that shocked not only the police commissioner, but also the King and Leonid.
He wonders if he didn't understand it properly.
Just as they began to express serious concern, Bjorn let out a short laugh. It was a mirthless, almost insincere laugh, one that might have been accompanied by a light curse if it weren't for his father.
"Can you please be more serious? Even if it wasn't the Grand Duchess's fault, it's definitely not a minor matter. Her family is involved!"
Despite Leonid's earnest plea, Bjorn's expression remained unchanged. He glanced briefly at the dark sky beyond the window, then a crooked smile returned. He also remembered the swearing he'd endured in front of his father.
"It's not complicated. If you investigate, you get investigated. If you find the guilty party, you punish them. That's it."
“Are you really going to send Walter Hardy to jail?”
“Well, wouldn’t the competent police and judges of Letzen take care of that?”
Bjorn slowly closed his eyes and opened them even more slowly.
“Get out of the way.”
“Bjorn.”
“Leo. I had a really long day today.”
He calmly pushed away Leonid's hand that was gripping his shoulder.
“Unless you plan on getting stuck in and throwing punches, get out of the way.”
His face was still blankly round, but Leonid knew intuitively that this wasn't just a joke.
Leonid, who had been agonizing over the matter, finally took a step back. Bjorn, who had shared a brief glance with him and smiled, left the summer palace with a gait that suggested he was enjoying a leisurely stroll.
He climbed into the waiting carriage, sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. As he thought of five ways to agonize over a human's death, the carriage arrived in front of the Grand Duke's residence.
"Erna?"
Bjorn, seeing Mrs. Fitz coming out to greet him, asked a question softly in a voice filled with deep fatigue.
“Her Highness is in the bedroom with Mr. Erickson.”
Bjorn's brow furrowed at the unexpected news. Normally, the examination would have already ended. His wife's face, as if she were about to die, flashed before his eyes, and his fists clenched involuntarily.
“Congratulations, Your Highness.”
The moment Bjorn opened his lips, Mrs. Fitz nodded.
“I heard you're going to be a father soon.”
The congratulatory words that came back again seeped into the clear, ink-colored darkness.
Bjorn looked at Mrs. Fitz with bewildered eyes. The old woman's wrinkled face was radiant with a joy and emotion that even the darkness couldn't completely obscure.
It was a long, really, really long day.
“Why did you do that?”
Erna, who had been sitting listlessly, staring out the window, finally spoke when the Grand Duke's bridge came into view across the river. Her dress was covered in mud and grass, her hair disheveled, and her complexion pale. She looked a stark contrast to the beautiful lady who had set out that morning. What would normally have been heartbreaking and unbearable now felt unbearably trivial and vain.
“Why on earth did you do that to Pavel?”
Erna slowly turned her head and looked at Bjorn, who was sitting next to her. His face, his eyes tightly closed, was devoid of any emotion.
“Bjorn.”
“Be quiet, Erna.”
Bjorn opened his eyes with a sigh and gave a low command.
“Don’t add a single word.”
The sunken, gray eyes held a chilling, cold anger.
While Erna, speechless, just smiled, Bjorn closed his eyes again.
A trophy won at a gambling table.
The cruel words that had crossed Bjorn's face began to pierce her heart again.
Erna knew it wasn't love. But she believed there was at least a modicum of sincerity. Even if it was just sympathy for a poor woman who had fallen into trouble because of her own fault.
But to you, I wasn't even an object of pity.
When she realized that, she was overcome with sadness greater than anger.
Erna trusted Bjorn.
No matter what anyone said, Erna was the only one who protected her in this unfamiliar and fearful world.
She loved that kind of Bjorn.
It was a feeling that had already started long before she realized it, and it was only at that moment, ironically, when her mind was crumbling down, that she realized it.
The night their eyes met under the umbrella that stopped the cold rain. The moment when the sky was adorned with beautiful fireworks she's never seen before. Or the party on Harbor Street. No. Perhaps, in the darkened gallery of an art exhibition, that moment when she locked eyes with the Prince who had abruptly kissed her hand. Even then, as she gazed at the smile on Bjorn's lips and listened to the thumping, irregular beating of her heart.
As Erna reminisced, she became increasingly miserable. The trophy he'd won in a bet he'd started for fun. He'd given himself so much of his heart to the scheme to win it, it was so ridiculous and miserable that she found it hard to bear.
It was a salvation for me, but it was just a joke for you.
Erna tried desperately to hold back her tears, but her vision was already clouded by the tears that had welled up. She wished she could at least shout and demand answers. But she couldn't bring herself to do so, and her sorrow deepened.
No matter how bad his reputation, he was once the Prince who would become the next King of this country. He was a man who could easily marry a daughter of a prominent family if he so chose. Now that Erna realized she was nothing more than a trophy, the absurdity of this marriage became even more apparent. And now, she was in no position to blame Bjorn.
The Baden family mansion and the lives of their families he protected. The enormous debt of the Hardy family he repaid in return, and the ongoing repercussions of her father's actions. The weight of all that he had unknowingly incurred weighed heavily on her heart. So how could she dare shamelessly blame this man?
If Bjorn had truly chosen this marriage because he needed a trophy to keep him company, to shield him from troublesome tasks, Erna had to endure even more. This humiliation and sorrow—the pain she had to pay for this undeserved position—would never be enough to repay all she had endured.
A lump of deficit.
Erna suddenly became afraid at the thought that she might actually be treated like that.
Bjorn was meticulous in his calculations. He was ruthless in that regard, and there was no way he could tolerate a trophy he deemed useless and a waste of money.
At most, it's only for a year.
Just as the taunting words she didn't want to recall began to ring like tinnitus, the carriage pulled into the Grand Duke's bridge. Here, as she recalled herself waiting for Bjorn with a pounding heart, Erna burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer.
She gave him her favorite flower.
Amidst the pouring tears, she remembered the token of promise she had given to Bjorn that day. She couldn't express how delighted she was that he readily accepted the gift. Just imagining the Prince pinning it to his lapel made her heart swell with a flower.
How ridiculous that must have looked to this man.
The sound of crying, pouring out the sorrow that had welled up within, drowned out the rattling sound of the carriage wheels.
“Don’t cry, Erna.”
Bjorn looked at his wife with a face filled with uncontrollable irritation.
"Why are you crying? I'm the one who became a cripple, so why are you crying?"
The words that came out of his mouth were so pathetic that he couldn't help but laugh.
Embrace.
Erna knew she had done nothing wrong. It was he who had gone berserk over something trivial and ruined everything. The most horrifying thing was knowing this, yet being unable to do anything about it. It was the same then, and it is the same now.
Erna, terrified, curled up into a small ball and swallowed her sobs. Just as the weight of the sunset, her delicate back, seemed to struggle to bear, it began to irritate her hypersensitive nerves; the carriage fortunately came to a halt.
“The attending doctor will arrive shortly.”
Mrs. Fitz approached the two men as they disembarked from the carriage and hurriedly reported. It seemed the message he had sent ahead of time had been properly delivered. Bjorn responded with a curt nod.
“And I think the Prince should go and see His Majesty.”
"Now?"
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Even in front of Bjorn, whose displeasure was evident, Mrs. Fitz maintained a firm attitude.
“There was a very strict order to come to the summer palace as soon as you returned.”
***
As the last wolf was lifted, the air in the study became even heavier.
The Schwerin police chief carefully raised the teacup he held in his firm hand to his lips. Even that seemingly insignificant gesture seemed so sensitive. He felt as if he were prey thrown into a beast's cage.
“Please explain that to Bjorn, too.”
At the Crown Prince's words, he put down his teacup with a despairing sigh. A cool sea breeze blew, making the evening not particularly hot, but the police commissioner's hand on his forehead was drenched in cold sweat.
"That is..."
His lips, already dry, trembled with tension. It would have been easier for the King and the Crown Prince. Facing the Grand Duke, the man directly involved in this matter, he felt his breath catch in his throat.
This news would send even the most exhilarating mood spiraling downward, but he already had the look of a grim reaper. And with those chapped lips and disheveled clothes, it was clear he'd just been in a fight.
“Speak.”
The Grand Duke, who had been quietly watching him, calmly urged him on. Though his manner was polite, it wasn't difficult to discern the fatigue and irritation beneath.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
The police chief first offered an apology.
"If I'd known about it in advance, I would have tried to stop it somehow, but he stopped by the newspaper office before coming to the police station, so there was nothing I could do. Still, I felt I needed to alert Your Majesty and the Grand Duke as soon as possible, so..."
“Let’s get to the point.”
The Grand Duke cut him off with a frown.
“Slowly. So I can understand.”
The words he spoke slowly and steadily felt like a sharp, piercing blade. The police chief, momentarily stunned, closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again.
"A man named Hans Weber, who runs a trading company, visited the Schwerin police station this afternoon to report someone who lured him with a false promise of strong support and then extorted a bribe."
The police chief gave a brief summary of the incident in a businesslike voice, devoid of emotion.
"He had already reported the incident to the newspaper before he went to the police station, and the incident was featured as a headline in today's evening paper. It seems like it's going to be a difficult situation for me to handle on my own."
He wiped his now-damp hands on the hem of his trousers and took a deep breath. He should have had a vague idea by now, but the Grand Duke's eyes, watching him, remained bafflingly silent.
"Sorry."
He bowed deeply, once again offering his apology. Then, avoiding the Grand Duke's gaze, he got to the point.
“Hans Weber has filed a complaint against Her Royal Highness the Grand Duchess, and an investigation into the matter will begin soon.”
***
“You crazy bastard.”
That was the only thing Leonid could say today, once again. It wasn't something one would say to a husband whose wife was embroiled in such a horrific scandal. But if that husband was Bjorn Dneister, things were a little different.
“Are you laughing now?”
Leonid stood in front of Bjorn, stunned. Bjorn, who had been giggling as he walked down the hallway, met him with a lingering smile.
From the moment he heard about it until now, Bjorn has never shown a serious attitude.
Oh, I see.
These were the first words Bjorn uttered upon learning that his wife had been accused of fraud. It was a reaction that shocked not only the police commissioner, but also the King and Leonid.
He wonders if he didn't understand it properly.
Just as they began to express serious concern, Bjorn let out a short laugh. It was a mirthless, almost insincere laugh, one that might have been accompanied by a light curse if it weren't for his father.
"Can you please be more serious? Even if it wasn't the Grand Duchess's fault, it's definitely not a minor matter. Her family is involved!"
Despite Leonid's earnest plea, Bjorn's expression remained unchanged. He glanced briefly at the dark sky beyond the window, then a crooked smile returned. He also remembered the swearing he'd endured in front of his father.
"It's not complicated. If you investigate, you get investigated. If you find the guilty party, you punish them. That's it."
“Are you really going to send Walter Hardy to jail?”
“Well, wouldn’t the competent police and judges of Letzen take care of that?”
Bjorn slowly closed his eyes and opened them even more slowly.
“Get out of the way.”
“Bjorn.”
“Leo. I had a really long day today.”
He calmly pushed away Leonid's hand that was gripping his shoulder.
“Unless you plan on getting stuck in and throwing punches, get out of the way.”
His face was still blankly round, but Leonid knew intuitively that this wasn't just a joke.
Leonid, who had been agonizing over the matter, finally took a step back. Bjorn, who had shared a brief glance with him and smiled, left the summer palace with a gait that suggested he was enjoying a leisurely stroll.
He climbed into the waiting carriage, sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. As he thought of five ways to agonize over a human's death, the carriage arrived in front of the Grand Duke's residence.
"Erna?"
Bjorn, seeing Mrs. Fitz coming out to greet him, asked a question softly in a voice filled with deep fatigue.
“Her Highness is in the bedroom with Mr. Erickson.”
Bjorn's brow furrowed at the unexpected news. Normally, the examination would have already ended. His wife's face, as if she were about to die, flashed before his eyes, and his fists clenched involuntarily.
“Congratulations, Your Highness.”
The moment Bjorn opened his lips, Mrs. Fitz nodded.
“I heard you're going to be a father soon.”
The congratulatory words that came back again seeped into the clear, ink-colored darkness.
Bjorn looked at Mrs. Fitz with bewildered eyes. The old woman's wrinkled face was radiant with a joy and emotion that even the darkness couldn't completely obscure.
It was a long, really, really long day.
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