110. Silent Night
Erna blinked, her eyes dazed, as she stared at Bjorn. Her disheveled hair and lace pajamas swayed in the night breeze blowing through the slightly open window. Her eyes, filled with Bjorn's approach, were no different.
“You look very tired.”
Erna, who had been observing him closely as he stood beside the bed, whispered softly.
“Are you okay?”
Erna's expression, filled with concern, became so serious that Bjorn couldn't help but chuckle. It was a completely unexpected opening line, yet so quintessentially Erna.
Well, is that okay?
Bjorn, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked around his wife's bedroom with red-tinged eyes.
Memories of this unusually hot summer came flooding back, following the shadows of the curtains, billowing and then sinking in the night breeze. The accident caused by the Hardy family, Erna's pregnancy, and the scandal brought on by the dead poet's sister. As he dealt with the flurry of events, he realized the end of summer was near.
He never really thought it was difficult.
It was a problem that could be solved, so he was obsessed with finding the best solution. That was Bjorn's way. However, the exhaustion from the overly busy days had reached a critical point, and his nerves were on edge. The thought that he had spent the entire season like a string stretched so tight it seemed ready to snap suddenly surfaced in his dazed mind, hazy from days of little sleep.
I'm tired.
Bjorn lowered his hand, which had been pressing against his throbbing eyes, and smiled, feeling a little helpless. His gaze, which had been slowly wandering over the dimly lit chandelier and paneled decorations on the ceiling, stopped once again on Erna's face. Her eyes, looking at him with concern, were clear.
The meeting with the ministers, which had dragged on longer than planned, concluded after sunset. Leonid suggested he rest at the palace, but Bjorn, as planned, boarded the carriage.
Now, he felt like he understood the reason for that foolish stubbornness, which even he had struggled to understand. Erna. Just to see this one woman. Even if her face was already asleep, he wanted to see her.
“Did something happen again?”
As Erna approached, the sweet and soft body scent grew stronger.
“Did that book cause you a lot of trouble?”
The lines of her body, visible beneath her translucent nightgown, were slightly different from the morning last week that Bjorn remembered.
"Actually, I read that book too. I thought I should have a general idea of what was going on. I'm sorry. I couldn't wait a little longer."
Erna carefully changed the subject as if it were some great thing.
“But that’s not how I meant to understand it. So, Bjorn, you explain to me...”
"Later."
Responding dryly, Bjorn unhesitatingly untied the ribbon that held Erna's pajamas tightly shut. Erna only realized this after Bjorn's hand had already grasped her half-exposed breast.
“Bjorn!”
The scream that Erna let out soon disappeared between Bjorn's lips.
He thrust his tongue fiercely, tangling her as he pulled down Erna's pajamas, exposing her shoulders and chest. The sound of the thin fabric tearing mingled with the engulfing sound of his lips licking and tongues tangling.
“Come on, Erna.”
The shadow created by Bjorn fell over Erna, who was lying on the bed.
“That’ll be later.”
He undressed the pajamas, already pulled down to his waist, and without hesitation, he lowered himself down and trapped Erna. The sound of his lips showering her with urgent kisses—on her cheek, her ear, her lips, her neck—began to disturb the peaceful silence of the bedroom.
“Bjorn! Oh, baby. Baby.”
Erna's resistance grew stronger as Bjorn's hand, which had now stroked her now rather cutely protruding belly, reached between her legs.
Bjorn paused for a moment, staring at Erna, who was holding his wrist. The image of the attending doctor, who had ordered him, in a gentle yet firm tone, to sleep in a separate bed from his wife for the time being, flashed across his mind. But that was already a long time ago.
“It’s almost next month.”
Bjorn gasped for breath and squinted. With only three days left in that damned next month, which Professor Erickson had approved, it seemed like nothing more would be a problem. But Erna still looked uneasy.
Bjorn roughly brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead, licked his lips, and looked down at Erna. He, too, was at a loss as to how to handle a pregnant woman. She was naturally fragile, and with a child inside her, he shouldn't be greedily carrying her, but he wasn't sure he had the self-control to do so.
"It's okay."
Bjorn sighed softly and comforted his wife.
“I won’t put it in.”
He found it funny that he was talking such nonsense, but he didn't want to stop.
As he felt the strength slipping from Erna's grip, Bjorn grabbed her chin and hastily kissed her parted lips again. He tangled her escaping tongue and swallowed. Meanwhile, his large, heated hands roamed over Erna's body. It had begun as a gesture to soothe the frightened woman, but at some point, the sensation and warmth captivated him.
“You have to open your eyes.”
Bjorn, releasing her swollen lips, gave a soft command. Erna, who had been gasping for breath with her eyes tightly shut, finally looked at him. Those wet blue eyes were beautiful. Her desire was fervent, as pathetic as she was at the pain in her lower abdomen, just from that one thing.
“You have something to tell me, Bjorn.”
Erna's hand touched his cheek. It wasn't hard to discern what her desperate eyes were saying.
“I will. I will do it.”
Bjorn responded in a subdued voice, lowering his pants. He pressed his body against the damp, lips-like surface beneath, and a soft, throat-scratching moan escaped his lips.
Swallowing Erna's lips as she tried to say something else, Bjorn began to move his hips without hesitation. He had to frown and twist the sheets several times to suppress the urge to burrow inside, violently.
He needs to explain that. He knows.
Bjorn pressed his lips, his breath coming out heavily, to various parts of Erna's face. As her translucent flesh was bathed in heat, the sweet scent of her body intensified. His dazed mind was now clouded by the pleasure of this absurdly soft body.
That explanation had been repeated ad nauseam. So, for this moment, he simply wished it were just the two of them. To rest for a moment. To hold this woman, to be held by this woman.
Bjorn shifted his hips, locking eyes with Erna, who kept trying to push him away. Erna, her face flushed red, moaned, and she was beautiful. The thirst of a weak desire and the dizzying sensation of floating came at the same time, shaking his consciousness.
As he struggled to suppress the urge to go inside, Erna rolled over and escaped his embrace. Bjorn, who had been looking down at her in bewilderment, chuckled softly and hugged Erna tightly around the back. The night breeze, carrying the scent of the garden, blew toward the two of them, lying side by side through the open window.
Erna stared at the lamplight and the book beneath it with unfocused eyes. Bjorn's involuntary thrusts between her clammy thighs were growing larger and more ferocious. The kisses that poured endlessly onto her neck and shoulders were passionate. The hands that persistently touched her body were equally passionate. Even in this moment of unspeakable misery, Erna bit her lips painfully, groaning.
Memories of those days, hesitantly turning the pages of that book, her consciousness wavering, began to surface. The countless sorrows and pains she endured as the villain who had usurped Princess Gladys's place without knowing anything about it came to mind, and she felt a pang of pain. The shattered past felt like sharp shards tearing through her heart.
But even in those moments, Erna thought of Bjorn.
What must have been the state of mind of the man who laid aside his crown to cover up the infidelity of the Crown Princess, who was pregnant with another man's child? No matter how great the national benefit he gained in return, the wounds inflicted on Bjorn would not have been erased.
But you.
Her body turned over and lay down, shivering from the shame that pricked her like a thorn.
Bjorn stood above Erna, looking down at her, moving his hands and waist. Erna, at a loss for what to do, met his gaze. Just when she felt like crying, a sensual moan and gasp erupted.
Erna instinctively closed her eyes tightly, wrapping her arms around her stomach. The lukewarm sensation that flowed down her chest and the back of her hand spread along with the rich scent of love.
Opening her eyes in a daze, she saw Bjorn looking down at her with admiration. Their eyes met, and a smile spread across his languidly open gray eyes. It was the beautiful, devilish smile that had captivated Erna's heart.
As his heavy breathing subsided, Bjorn leisurely dressed himself. The thought of washing crossed his mind, but his body, gripped by a sweet helplessness, refused to move.
Bjorn let out a sigh of peaceful resignation and collapsed next to Erna, who was staring blankly into space. Burying his face against her neck, he sensed a faint pulse.
Between a few soft sighs, Bjorn's consciousness gradually faded. The sleep he had accepted was as comforting as this woman's. It was the last memory that remained in Bjorn's consciousness before he fell into the abyss of deep sleep.
“Bjorn.”
Erna's voice trembled faintly as she called his name. Instead of a response, a slow, slow breathing permeated the soft darkness.
The man fell asleep.
Erna calmly accepted the truth she didn't want to believe and sat up. The remnants of love flowing through her skin seemed to remind her of her situation.
Always smiling, succumbing to lust, and obedient. Just like that, Harmony, existing for the pleasure of Bjorn Dneister, a cheap flower bought at a high price.
As if to erase those sad thoughts, Erna picked up the pajamas carelessly thrown under the bed and wiped herself. She pressed the tears from her eyes with her palms, trying to calm them, and quietly went to the bathroom. Perhaps thanks to the cool touch of the floor beneath her bare feet, the burning sadness didn't last long.
Erna slowly washed herself and put on new pajamas. She combed her messy hair back into place. She tried not to look at the red marks in the mirror, as if she could forget them if she didn't look. But the sight of Bjorn upon returning to bed instantly made all her efforts futile.
Erna remained silent for a moment, then turned around with a quiet sigh. When she returned, she was holding a brass basin and a neat towel.
The faint sound of the grandfather clock striking midnight could be heard.
Erna, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself, began to carefully undress Bjorn.
Erna blinked, her eyes dazed, as she stared at Bjorn. Her disheveled hair and lace pajamas swayed in the night breeze blowing through the slightly open window. Her eyes, filled with Bjorn's approach, were no different.
“You look very tired.”
Erna, who had been observing him closely as he stood beside the bed, whispered softly.
“Are you okay?”
Erna's expression, filled with concern, became so serious that Bjorn couldn't help but chuckle. It was a completely unexpected opening line, yet so quintessentially Erna.
Well, is that okay?
Bjorn, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked around his wife's bedroom with red-tinged eyes.
Memories of this unusually hot summer came flooding back, following the shadows of the curtains, billowing and then sinking in the night breeze. The accident caused by the Hardy family, Erna's pregnancy, and the scandal brought on by the dead poet's sister. As he dealt with the flurry of events, he realized the end of summer was near.
He never really thought it was difficult.
It was a problem that could be solved, so he was obsessed with finding the best solution. That was Bjorn's way. However, the exhaustion from the overly busy days had reached a critical point, and his nerves were on edge. The thought that he had spent the entire season like a string stretched so tight it seemed ready to snap suddenly surfaced in his dazed mind, hazy from days of little sleep.
I'm tired.
Bjorn lowered his hand, which had been pressing against his throbbing eyes, and smiled, feeling a little helpless. His gaze, which had been slowly wandering over the dimly lit chandelier and paneled decorations on the ceiling, stopped once again on Erna's face. Her eyes, looking at him with concern, were clear.
The meeting with the ministers, which had dragged on longer than planned, concluded after sunset. Leonid suggested he rest at the palace, but Bjorn, as planned, boarded the carriage.
Now, he felt like he understood the reason for that foolish stubbornness, which even he had struggled to understand. Erna. Just to see this one woman. Even if her face was already asleep, he wanted to see her.
“Did something happen again?”
As Erna approached, the sweet and soft body scent grew stronger.
“Did that book cause you a lot of trouble?”
The lines of her body, visible beneath her translucent nightgown, were slightly different from the morning last week that Bjorn remembered.
"Actually, I read that book too. I thought I should have a general idea of what was going on. I'm sorry. I couldn't wait a little longer."
Erna carefully changed the subject as if it were some great thing.
“But that’s not how I meant to understand it. So, Bjorn, you explain to me...”
"Later."
Responding dryly, Bjorn unhesitatingly untied the ribbon that held Erna's pajamas tightly shut. Erna only realized this after Bjorn's hand had already grasped her half-exposed breast.
“Bjorn!”
The scream that Erna let out soon disappeared between Bjorn's lips.
He thrust his tongue fiercely, tangling her as he pulled down Erna's pajamas, exposing her shoulders and chest. The sound of the thin fabric tearing mingled with the engulfing sound of his lips licking and tongues tangling.
“Come on, Erna.”
The shadow created by Bjorn fell over Erna, who was lying on the bed.
“That’ll be later.”
He undressed the pajamas, already pulled down to his waist, and without hesitation, he lowered himself down and trapped Erna. The sound of his lips showering her with urgent kisses—on her cheek, her ear, her lips, her neck—began to disturb the peaceful silence of the bedroom.
“Bjorn! Oh, baby. Baby.”
Erna's resistance grew stronger as Bjorn's hand, which had now stroked her now rather cutely protruding belly, reached between her legs.
Bjorn paused for a moment, staring at Erna, who was holding his wrist. The image of the attending doctor, who had ordered him, in a gentle yet firm tone, to sleep in a separate bed from his wife for the time being, flashed across his mind. But that was already a long time ago.
“It’s almost next month.”
Bjorn gasped for breath and squinted. With only three days left in that damned next month, which Professor Erickson had approved, it seemed like nothing more would be a problem. But Erna still looked uneasy.
Bjorn roughly brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead, licked his lips, and looked down at Erna. He, too, was at a loss as to how to handle a pregnant woman. She was naturally fragile, and with a child inside her, he shouldn't be greedily carrying her, but he wasn't sure he had the self-control to do so.
"It's okay."
Bjorn sighed softly and comforted his wife.
“I won’t put it in.”
He found it funny that he was talking such nonsense, but he didn't want to stop.
As he felt the strength slipping from Erna's grip, Bjorn grabbed her chin and hastily kissed her parted lips again. He tangled her escaping tongue and swallowed. Meanwhile, his large, heated hands roamed over Erna's body. It had begun as a gesture to soothe the frightened woman, but at some point, the sensation and warmth captivated him.
“You have to open your eyes.”
Bjorn, releasing her swollen lips, gave a soft command. Erna, who had been gasping for breath with her eyes tightly shut, finally looked at him. Those wet blue eyes were beautiful. Her desire was fervent, as pathetic as she was at the pain in her lower abdomen, just from that one thing.
“You have something to tell me, Bjorn.”
Erna's hand touched his cheek. It wasn't hard to discern what her desperate eyes were saying.
“I will. I will do it.”
Bjorn responded in a subdued voice, lowering his pants. He pressed his body against the damp, lips-like surface beneath, and a soft, throat-scratching moan escaped his lips.
Swallowing Erna's lips as she tried to say something else, Bjorn began to move his hips without hesitation. He had to frown and twist the sheets several times to suppress the urge to burrow inside, violently.
He needs to explain that. He knows.
Bjorn pressed his lips, his breath coming out heavily, to various parts of Erna's face. As her translucent flesh was bathed in heat, the sweet scent of her body intensified. His dazed mind was now clouded by the pleasure of this absurdly soft body.
That explanation had been repeated ad nauseam. So, for this moment, he simply wished it were just the two of them. To rest for a moment. To hold this woman, to be held by this woman.
Bjorn shifted his hips, locking eyes with Erna, who kept trying to push him away. Erna, her face flushed red, moaned, and she was beautiful. The thirst of a weak desire and the dizzying sensation of floating came at the same time, shaking his consciousness.
As he struggled to suppress the urge to go inside, Erna rolled over and escaped his embrace. Bjorn, who had been looking down at her in bewilderment, chuckled softly and hugged Erna tightly around the back. The night breeze, carrying the scent of the garden, blew toward the two of them, lying side by side through the open window.
Erna stared at the lamplight and the book beneath it with unfocused eyes. Bjorn's involuntary thrusts between her clammy thighs were growing larger and more ferocious. The kisses that poured endlessly onto her neck and shoulders were passionate. The hands that persistently touched her body were equally passionate. Even in this moment of unspeakable misery, Erna bit her lips painfully, groaning.
Memories of those days, hesitantly turning the pages of that book, her consciousness wavering, began to surface. The countless sorrows and pains she endured as the villain who had usurped Princess Gladys's place without knowing anything about it came to mind, and she felt a pang of pain. The shattered past felt like sharp shards tearing through her heart.
But even in those moments, Erna thought of Bjorn.
What must have been the state of mind of the man who laid aside his crown to cover up the infidelity of the Crown Princess, who was pregnant with another man's child? No matter how great the national benefit he gained in return, the wounds inflicted on Bjorn would not have been erased.
But you.
Her body turned over and lay down, shivering from the shame that pricked her like a thorn.
Bjorn stood above Erna, looking down at her, moving his hands and waist. Erna, at a loss for what to do, met his gaze. Just when she felt like crying, a sensual moan and gasp erupted.
Erna instinctively closed her eyes tightly, wrapping her arms around her stomach. The lukewarm sensation that flowed down her chest and the back of her hand spread along with the rich scent of love.
Opening her eyes in a daze, she saw Bjorn looking down at her with admiration. Their eyes met, and a smile spread across his languidly open gray eyes. It was the beautiful, devilish smile that had captivated Erna's heart.
As his heavy breathing subsided, Bjorn leisurely dressed himself. The thought of washing crossed his mind, but his body, gripped by a sweet helplessness, refused to move.
Bjorn let out a sigh of peaceful resignation and collapsed next to Erna, who was staring blankly into space. Burying his face against her neck, he sensed a faint pulse.
Between a few soft sighs, Bjorn's consciousness gradually faded. The sleep he had accepted was as comforting as this woman's. It was the last memory that remained in Bjorn's consciousness before he fell into the abyss of deep sleep.
“Bjorn.”
Erna's voice trembled faintly as she called his name. Instead of a response, a slow, slow breathing permeated the soft darkness.
The man fell asleep.
Erna calmly accepted the truth she didn't want to believe and sat up. The remnants of love flowing through her skin seemed to remind her of her situation.
Always smiling, succumbing to lust, and obedient. Just like that, Harmony, existing for the pleasure of Bjorn Dneister, a cheap flower bought at a high price.
As if to erase those sad thoughts, Erna picked up the pajamas carelessly thrown under the bed and wiped herself. She pressed the tears from her eyes with her palms, trying to calm them, and quietly went to the bathroom. Perhaps thanks to the cool touch of the floor beneath her bare feet, the burning sadness didn't last long.
Erna slowly washed herself and put on new pajamas. She combed her messy hair back into place. She tried not to look at the red marks in the mirror, as if she could forget them if she didn't look. But the sight of Bjorn upon returning to bed instantly made all her efforts futile.
Erna remained silent for a moment, then turned around with a quiet sigh. When she returned, she was holding a brass basin and a neat towel.
The faint sound of the grandfather clock striking midnight could be heard.
Erna, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself, began to carefully undress Bjorn.
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