105. A pretty flower that never withers
The words she'd thought she'd never be able to say came out unexpectedly calmly. Bjorn simply stared at Erna without responding. It seemed as if he was willing to listen.
Erna held her cold hands together and calmed her wavering heart.
Yes, I would be happy to tell you.
Yes. As many times as you want.
The day she went to see Bjorn and asked him to take her hand and walk her down the aisle, Erna's heart had already abandoned her father. To be Bjorn's wife and the daughter of such a father? It was a choice not worth agonizing over.
That's why she couldn't readily answer. Because it was so desperate. Even though she knew it was shameless, she pretended not to know. It was the one thing she desperately wanted to hold onto, even to the point of deceiving herself.
"It was a bet that whoever went boating with me at the festival on the night of the rowing competition would take home the prize money. I was the trophy of that bet, and I know that's why you seduced me, and ultimately won. But I also know, Bjorn, that you wouldn't marry a trophy just for a bet like that."
Erna paused for a moment, her voice labored, to catch her breath. Her throat tightened, but thankfully, no tears flowed.
"I think it wasn't so much because of the bet as because you didn't want to be entangled with Princess Gladys and be talked about anymore. I happened to be the perfect woman to use as a shield, and I became your trophy, so you decided to marry me. Despite my many shortcomings, that was the only clear benefit I could offer you."
The corners of Erna's lips trembled as she smiled awkwardly.
What a stupid-looking expression that must be.
She was so embarrassed and upset, but she felt like she had to laugh to keep herself from crying. If she cried, Bjorn would get angry, and she didn't want to end this conversation she'd barely mustered up the courage to have it that way.
"So?"
While Erna struggled to compose herself, Bjorn, who had been silent, spoke. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Erna with an expression so serene it almost seemed tedious.
That wasn't even a secret to this man.
Suddenly realizing this truth, she felt utterly miserable. Morning sickness, which had just begun, made Erna even more miserable.
Would Bjorn have made the same choice if she hadn't become pregnant?
Erna thought and thought, counting with her head bowed low. The child must have felt pity for her mother, as her morning sickness quickly subsided.
Erna quietly covered her lower abdomen, as if thanking the child for allowing her to avoid the embarrassment of vomiting in this situation. Her stomach wasn't quite swollen yet, but changes were definitely occurring.
As her child grew up so well, a shadow inevitably loomed over Erna's heart in every joyful moment. Perhaps she was using the child as an excuse to remain Bjorn's wife, feeling relieved. What if, as people said, she had become a wife who held her husband back because of her pregnancy? She hated herself for not being able to guarantee otherwise. It was a sin, both for the child and for Bjorn.
“So what I mean is...”
Erna lifted the hand that had been comforting the child and wiped the redness around her eyes.
"If that's why you chose me as your wife, then I feel like I'm just a worthless piece of garbage right now... You've suffered great losses because of me, you've become entangled in this mess, and you've been condemned by the entire world. Your life has become even more complicated and chaotic than before."
“So, Erna.”
Bjorn frowned, his arms loosely crossed.
Don't cry.
Erna, encouraging herself, continued speaking hurriedly.
“If that’s true, I will no longer shamelessly desire your love and covet this place.”
"What?"
“It means I will accept the divorce if you want.”
Don't cry.
Once again, Erna recited the spell with even greater desperation. But her eyes were already hot, and her breathing was becoming irregular.
"Divorce."
Bjorn, who had been whispering those words, raised the corners of his lips and smiled. Even at that moment, his gaze on Erna remained cold and hard.
"So, Bjorn, tell me your most honest feelings. Then I will answer."
Erna's eyes, filled with tears as she gazed at Bjorn, sparkled. A strange emotion surged across Bjorn's face as he gazed into those abominably beautiful, aquamarine eyes.
Look at this.
Sometimes, his wife, who seemed so naive and unassuming, made him laugh. No. This might be considered a truly cheeky trick.
He couldn't quite understand the intentions of a woman who was pregnant with his child and would say such things. Was she trying to bluff? If so, it wasn't a good move. He had never been fooled by the nonsense of an opponent with a disadvantageous hand. That, in fact, was Bjorn's specialty.
“What do you want to hear, Erna?”
Bjorn tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
"Do you want an apology? Or at least a confession that I love you?"
The gaze he held toward his wife, as if he were watching, was as languid as the midsummer evening light. Erna, at a loss, flailed around. Her appearance was innocent and pitiful. Like the deer that had suddenly burst into his life one day, the greatest plaything of the previous summer season.
Divorce. Divorce.
The more he repeated that word, the more deeply Bjorn's eyes sank.
It was both amusing and infuriating that while he was frantically trying to sort out her father's affairs, this woman was even thinking about something like this. Did she think he would kneel if she brought up divorce, claiming she knew everything? A bet. What on earth was that?
Maybe it was that day.
The night out, which had vanished and returned in disarray. The sudden transformation, as if she'd become a different woman, finally made sense. Startled by a word she's heard somewhere, she ran away, met Pavel Lore, and then...
As the image of Erna returning with the painter came vividly to mind, a lump suddenly appeared in his throat.
Friend. With all that nonsense going on between them, he wondered if she'd even confessed everything. That her husband treated her like a trophy in a gambling game. That angry brat, wrapped in his arms, with tears welling up in her pretty eyes. Then, perhaps, that reckless brat would promise another midnight elopement. Break up with that husband. I'll take responsibility for you now.
"If you want to take issue with that bet, well, I don't know. Even if I made that bet with you, what was the ultimate loss you suffered because of it? If it weren't for me, you'd have been sold to some irredeemable piece of trash like that old man, or Heinz, who would soon be lying in a coffin. In that case, Erna, wasn't that bet actually a stroke of luck for you?"
Bjorn lowered his eyes with a smile and met Erna's gaze.
"Ah. Pavel. Why? Because you became the trophy of the betting table, you couldn't grab that kid's hand and run away."
“That’s not it!”
Erna shook her head and screamed as if she were screaming.
"Pavel and I are friends. We're not like that. Don't say that."
“Ah, friend. You too, I suppose.”
Bjorn's lips drew a soft curve.
"Don't be so disgusting, Erna. It's a sin to be so clueless. Do you understand?"
“Bjorn, please...”
"What kind of crazy guy, shot in the head, risks his future by running off with a woman? A guy who's risked being reduced from a promising art academy painter to a street portrait painter. What kind of friend is that?"
As self-loathing mounted, Bjorn's hypocrisy intensified. He knew he had to stop, but his passions grew beyond control.
Why. Why on earth?
The question, which he couldn't find an answer to no matter how many times he asked it, made Bjorn even more anxious. He felt unfamiliar and afraid of himself, swayed by such irrational, uncontrollable emotions.
He can't hide his cards, but his opponent's cards can't be read.
This situation inevitably led to a crushing defeat. At least, it was something that had never happened to Bjorn before.
"If you think of me and give me a tearful divorce, what will happen to that child?"
Bjorn's cold eyes turned to his wife's belly. Erna wiped her reddened eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas and wrapped her arms around her belly as if to shield herself from his gaze.
“I will... raise the child.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he chuckled.
"Divorce. I can give it to you if you want. But just leave the child behind. And the moment you leave, you'll never see the child again. What do you think? Are you confident about that?"
“Ha, but in the past...”
Erna bit her lip, beginning to refute. It seemed she wanted to talk about that damned Gladys Hartford.
A shameless man who committed adultery while leaving his pregnant wife and eventually abandoned his own child.
That was the prodigal son of Letzen, known to the whole world. A solid lie, planned and created by Bjorn himself, a lie he resolved to carry with him forever.
Erna and the child she'll bear will live knowing this truth. It was only natural, but he hated the way this woman saw him, believing him to be false. He found it unbearably funny that he felt this way.
“Before? Ah. Gladys. Yes. I gave Gladys a child.”
Bjorn smiled as he said the name slowly.
“She’s a Princess. Like you, living in the remote countryside?”
This woman can never abandon her child.
The fact that he instinctively realized made Bjorn more persistent and cruel.
"I would never let my child be raised in such a remote place, Erna. So, if you're confident you'll never see the child you gave birth to again, then ask for a divorce. Do you understand?"
Bjorn's throat, which had been silently warning, moved roughly.
He tried to comfort her. To put this woman, who must have been deeply anxious, at ease. That was clearly the intention behind the conversation. But then came divorce. That damned word, and it ruined everything. But he didn't regret it. At least from this moment on, Erna would never think of anything like that again. If there was no turning back, it was better to make it right now.
“If you want the honest answer, I’ll give it to you.”
Bjorn faced Erna again with a blank expression on his face.
"I married you because you were a quiet, harmless, and beautiful woman who would bring me joy without interfering with my life. Like the harmony you so effortlessly create."
His anger began to subside as he remembered the beautiful, unfading flower blooming from his wife's fingertips. Bjorn believed Erna would be like that, too. It had to be so. She had chosen it solely for its utility, and she was clinging to it, enduring this immense loss.
“So, don’t think about anything else, stay where you are, and raise that child well. That’s your duty.”
Bjorn slowly rose from his chair. His long shadow fell over Erna, who was quietly weeping.
“It’s your turn now.”
Bjorn's large hand cupped Erna's face, which was avoiding his gaze.
“Answer me, Erna.”
Tears flowed ceaselessly, soaking his hands.
Erna, who was looking at him with sharp, piercing eyes like a lost child, swallowed her tears and nodded.
Yes.
When he heard the answer, which was given with difficulty and mixed with a sad sob, Bjorn let out a long sigh.
A feeling of relief mixed with self-loathing washed over him. It felt dirty, like he's just rolled in mud.
The words she'd thought she'd never be able to say came out unexpectedly calmly. Bjorn simply stared at Erna without responding. It seemed as if he was willing to listen.
Erna held her cold hands together and calmed her wavering heart.
Yes, I would be happy to tell you.
Yes. As many times as you want.
The day she went to see Bjorn and asked him to take her hand and walk her down the aisle, Erna's heart had already abandoned her father. To be Bjorn's wife and the daughter of such a father? It was a choice not worth agonizing over.
That's why she couldn't readily answer. Because it was so desperate. Even though she knew it was shameless, she pretended not to know. It was the one thing she desperately wanted to hold onto, even to the point of deceiving herself.
"It was a bet that whoever went boating with me at the festival on the night of the rowing competition would take home the prize money. I was the trophy of that bet, and I know that's why you seduced me, and ultimately won. But I also know, Bjorn, that you wouldn't marry a trophy just for a bet like that."
Erna paused for a moment, her voice labored, to catch her breath. Her throat tightened, but thankfully, no tears flowed.
"I think it wasn't so much because of the bet as because you didn't want to be entangled with Princess Gladys and be talked about anymore. I happened to be the perfect woman to use as a shield, and I became your trophy, so you decided to marry me. Despite my many shortcomings, that was the only clear benefit I could offer you."
The corners of Erna's lips trembled as she smiled awkwardly.
What a stupid-looking expression that must be.
She was so embarrassed and upset, but she felt like she had to laugh to keep herself from crying. If she cried, Bjorn would get angry, and she didn't want to end this conversation she'd barely mustered up the courage to have it that way.
"So?"
While Erna struggled to compose herself, Bjorn, who had been silent, spoke. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Erna with an expression so serene it almost seemed tedious.
That wasn't even a secret to this man.
Suddenly realizing this truth, she felt utterly miserable. Morning sickness, which had just begun, made Erna even more miserable.
Would Bjorn have made the same choice if she hadn't become pregnant?
Erna thought and thought, counting with her head bowed low. The child must have felt pity for her mother, as her morning sickness quickly subsided.
Erna quietly covered her lower abdomen, as if thanking the child for allowing her to avoid the embarrassment of vomiting in this situation. Her stomach wasn't quite swollen yet, but changes were definitely occurring.
As her child grew up so well, a shadow inevitably loomed over Erna's heart in every joyful moment. Perhaps she was using the child as an excuse to remain Bjorn's wife, feeling relieved. What if, as people said, she had become a wife who held her husband back because of her pregnancy? She hated herself for not being able to guarantee otherwise. It was a sin, both for the child and for Bjorn.
“So what I mean is...”
Erna lifted the hand that had been comforting the child and wiped the redness around her eyes.
"If that's why you chose me as your wife, then I feel like I'm just a worthless piece of garbage right now... You've suffered great losses because of me, you've become entangled in this mess, and you've been condemned by the entire world. Your life has become even more complicated and chaotic than before."
“So, Erna.”
Bjorn frowned, his arms loosely crossed.
Don't cry.
Erna, encouraging herself, continued speaking hurriedly.
“If that’s true, I will no longer shamelessly desire your love and covet this place.”
"What?"
“It means I will accept the divorce if you want.”
Don't cry.
Once again, Erna recited the spell with even greater desperation. But her eyes were already hot, and her breathing was becoming irregular.
"Divorce."
Bjorn, who had been whispering those words, raised the corners of his lips and smiled. Even at that moment, his gaze on Erna remained cold and hard.
"So, Bjorn, tell me your most honest feelings. Then I will answer."
Erna's eyes, filled with tears as she gazed at Bjorn, sparkled. A strange emotion surged across Bjorn's face as he gazed into those abominably beautiful, aquamarine eyes.
Look at this.
Sometimes, his wife, who seemed so naive and unassuming, made him laugh. No. This might be considered a truly cheeky trick.
He couldn't quite understand the intentions of a woman who was pregnant with his child and would say such things. Was she trying to bluff? If so, it wasn't a good move. He had never been fooled by the nonsense of an opponent with a disadvantageous hand. That, in fact, was Bjorn's specialty.
“What do you want to hear, Erna?”
Bjorn tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
"Do you want an apology? Or at least a confession that I love you?"
The gaze he held toward his wife, as if he were watching, was as languid as the midsummer evening light. Erna, at a loss, flailed around. Her appearance was innocent and pitiful. Like the deer that had suddenly burst into his life one day, the greatest plaything of the previous summer season.
Divorce. Divorce.
The more he repeated that word, the more deeply Bjorn's eyes sank.
It was both amusing and infuriating that while he was frantically trying to sort out her father's affairs, this woman was even thinking about something like this. Did she think he would kneel if she brought up divorce, claiming she knew everything? A bet. What on earth was that?
Maybe it was that day.
The night out, which had vanished and returned in disarray. The sudden transformation, as if she'd become a different woman, finally made sense. Startled by a word she's heard somewhere, she ran away, met Pavel Lore, and then...
As the image of Erna returning with the painter came vividly to mind, a lump suddenly appeared in his throat.
Friend. With all that nonsense going on between them, he wondered if she'd even confessed everything. That her husband treated her like a trophy in a gambling game. That angry brat, wrapped in his arms, with tears welling up in her pretty eyes. Then, perhaps, that reckless brat would promise another midnight elopement. Break up with that husband. I'll take responsibility for you now.
"If you want to take issue with that bet, well, I don't know. Even if I made that bet with you, what was the ultimate loss you suffered because of it? If it weren't for me, you'd have been sold to some irredeemable piece of trash like that old man, or Heinz, who would soon be lying in a coffin. In that case, Erna, wasn't that bet actually a stroke of luck for you?"
Bjorn lowered his eyes with a smile and met Erna's gaze.
"Ah. Pavel. Why? Because you became the trophy of the betting table, you couldn't grab that kid's hand and run away."
“That’s not it!”
Erna shook her head and screamed as if she were screaming.
"Pavel and I are friends. We're not like that. Don't say that."
“Ah, friend. You too, I suppose.”
Bjorn's lips drew a soft curve.
"Don't be so disgusting, Erna. It's a sin to be so clueless. Do you understand?"
“Bjorn, please...”
"What kind of crazy guy, shot in the head, risks his future by running off with a woman? A guy who's risked being reduced from a promising art academy painter to a street portrait painter. What kind of friend is that?"
As self-loathing mounted, Bjorn's hypocrisy intensified. He knew he had to stop, but his passions grew beyond control.
Why. Why on earth?
The question, which he couldn't find an answer to no matter how many times he asked it, made Bjorn even more anxious. He felt unfamiliar and afraid of himself, swayed by such irrational, uncontrollable emotions.
He can't hide his cards, but his opponent's cards can't be read.
This situation inevitably led to a crushing defeat. At least, it was something that had never happened to Bjorn before.
"If you think of me and give me a tearful divorce, what will happen to that child?"
Bjorn's cold eyes turned to his wife's belly. Erna wiped her reddened eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas and wrapped her arms around her belly as if to shield herself from his gaze.
“I will... raise the child.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he chuckled.
"Divorce. I can give it to you if you want. But just leave the child behind. And the moment you leave, you'll never see the child again. What do you think? Are you confident about that?"
“Ha, but in the past...”
Erna bit her lip, beginning to refute. It seemed she wanted to talk about that damned Gladys Hartford.
A shameless man who committed adultery while leaving his pregnant wife and eventually abandoned his own child.
That was the prodigal son of Letzen, known to the whole world. A solid lie, planned and created by Bjorn himself, a lie he resolved to carry with him forever.
Erna and the child she'll bear will live knowing this truth. It was only natural, but he hated the way this woman saw him, believing him to be false. He found it unbearably funny that he felt this way.
“Before? Ah. Gladys. Yes. I gave Gladys a child.”
Bjorn smiled as he said the name slowly.
“She’s a Princess. Like you, living in the remote countryside?”
This woman can never abandon her child.
The fact that he instinctively realized made Bjorn more persistent and cruel.
"I would never let my child be raised in such a remote place, Erna. So, if you're confident you'll never see the child you gave birth to again, then ask for a divorce. Do you understand?"
Bjorn's throat, which had been silently warning, moved roughly.
He tried to comfort her. To put this woman, who must have been deeply anxious, at ease. That was clearly the intention behind the conversation. But then came divorce. That damned word, and it ruined everything. But he didn't regret it. At least from this moment on, Erna would never think of anything like that again. If there was no turning back, it was better to make it right now.
“If you want the honest answer, I’ll give it to you.”
Bjorn faced Erna again with a blank expression on his face.
"I married you because you were a quiet, harmless, and beautiful woman who would bring me joy without interfering with my life. Like the harmony you so effortlessly create."
His anger began to subside as he remembered the beautiful, unfading flower blooming from his wife's fingertips. Bjorn believed Erna would be like that, too. It had to be so. She had chosen it solely for its utility, and she was clinging to it, enduring this immense loss.
“So, don’t think about anything else, stay where you are, and raise that child well. That’s your duty.”
Bjorn slowly rose from his chair. His long shadow fell over Erna, who was quietly weeping.
“It’s your turn now.”
Bjorn's large hand cupped Erna's face, which was avoiding his gaze.
“Answer me, Erna.”
Tears flowed ceaselessly, soaking his hands.
Erna, who was looking at him with sharp, piercing eyes like a lost child, swallowed her tears and nodded.
Yes.
When he heard the answer, which was given with difficulty and mixed with a sad sob, Bjorn let out a long sigh.
A feeling of relief mixed with self-loathing washed over him. It felt dirty, like he's just rolled in mud.
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