111. Live happily ever after
Perhaps exhausted, Bjorn was sleeping much more deeply than usual. It was fortunate he hadn't woken up, but handling the unconscious body of a large man proved more difficult than expected.
After struggling for a long time, Erna finally managed to remove all of Bjorn's clothes. By the time she finished laying him upright and propping him up with a pillow, sweat was already beading on her forehead.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, Erna wiped Bjorn's face with a towel soaked in lukewarm water. It had been a long time since she'd looked at his face so closely, and her hands unconsciously slowed.
Waited for Bjorn.
All the while she waited, she thought to herself, even if she was deceived again, she would gladly be deceived. A fool who would forgive, understand, and love this man again with just a single, fabricated apology. That was Erna.
But to him, she is nothing more than this insignificant being.
Erna held her breath for a moment, clutching the wet towel tightly. The shadows beneath her eyes, created by her long eyelashes, fluttered.
Erna imagined countless times the moment she would face Bjorn upon his return. What expression would he make, what would he say? Erna couldn't quite picture this noble man apologizing, but she believed it wouldn't be like this.
At least he should have told her.
The meaningless assumption began to torment her again. Even then, she wouldn't have been able to avoid being labeled the villain who usurped Princess Gladys's place, but she would have endured it much more easily. Yet, this man, even as he witnessed his wife's humiliation and pain from the closest quarters, kept the secret.
If the poet's last work hadn't been revealed to the world in this way, this man would have fooled her and even their child for the rest of his life.
Erna's fingertips trembled slightly as she stroked Bjorn's cheek, swallowing back tears. A deep sense of betrayal seemed to suffocate her. But even in this moment, a large teardrop fell, tapping down the cheek of the man she didn't hate.
Only then did Erna realize she was crying, and she wiped away the traces of her tears. Although he tossed and turned slightly, Bjorn thankfully didn't wake up.
Erna sighed in relief and wiped her tear-soaked face with the sleeve of her pajamas. She rubbed too hard, causing the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose to turn bright red.
Erna, catching her breath as if steeling herself, quickly began wiping Bjorn's body. He was a very bright and sensitive sleeper, always a source of worry, but today he was surprisingly sound asleep. It was understandable why he'd fallen asleep like that.
So don't cry.
Erna consoled herself and fixed her handkerchief.
It's okay.
The crying soon subsided, as if the lie that was already known to be a lie was not completely ineffective.
Erna moved even more cautiously, not wanting to wake Bjorn, who must have been very tired. The sound of water lapping in the basin, small sighs, and the sound of diligent footsteps quietly permeated the silence of the bedroom. Bjorn didn't wake even after she had covered his now-clean body with the blanket.
Erna neatly folded and organized the clothes she had taken off, put away the basin and towels, and closed the curtains in the wide-open bedroom. By the time she returned to Bjorn's side, her heavy eyelids were half-closed.
Finally, Erna turned off the lamp and sat down at the end of the bed with a weary face. A slight pulling pain in her stomach came over her, but it didn't last long.
Erna gently stroked her belly, as if trying to soothe a fussy child. The attending doctor who had visited a few days earlier had told her that the baby was growing rapidly and that stomach aches were common. He said her belly would grow larger each day, and Erna was both a little afraid and excited about that prospect.
She wonders if he will grow up well and become as big as his father.
Erna's eyes, which had been quietly watching Bjorn, gradually furrowed. The realization that he was a very large man suddenly made her feel frightened.
Well, that would be a bit tricky.
Erna smiled blandly and patted her belly again. She hoped the child would agree with her opinion that it would be best to postpone growing up like his father until after he was born.
After hesitating for a while, Erna finally lay down beside Bjorn, her exhausted body trembling. The thought of falling asleep together for the first time in a long while filled her eyes with tears once again.
Memories of the first night they shared a bed floated up to the ceiling beyond the darkness. Bjorn would never know how much courage it took to cling to him again, despite being rejected so many times. Nor how happy she was to have that fervent wish fulfilled.
That night, Erna fought back her drowsiness and watched Bjorn drift off to sleep. The next morning, she woke up early and waited for Bjorn to wake up. She watched him fall asleep and wake up. Just knowing this made her feel like they were truly a couple, and her heart swelled with excitement.
But was that just a daydream of her own?
Erna's gaze, wandering aimlessly through the darkness, suddenly stopped at her own tingling fingertips. She'd done nothing all day except turn the pages of a book, yet her knuckles were numb and aching, as if she'd been busy making artificial flowers for a delivery, without a moment's rest.
As Erna began to knead her clasped hands, tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. The harder she tried to swallow them, the thicker and hotter her silent tears became.
Family. Your closest friends and lovers. Your lifelong companions. Your place of support. Your dreams and hopes. And love.
The words she'd uttered to keep Bjorn in line were Erna's most sincere confession. No matter what anyone said, that was the meaning her husband held for her. She dreamed that if she continued to do her best with that mindset, she might one day become at least one of those meanings for Bjorn.
Don't cry.
She tried to push herself again, but the tears wouldn't stop as she wanted them to.
There were so many good days they had together.
Bjorn was a man who could have been a loving husband if he had only made up his mind to be so, and Erna was happy at the moment she was the wife of such a husband.
But can you call that love?
He simply loved her as long as he saw what he showed her and did as she was told. He cherished her like a tame puppy or cat. Erna's thoughts and feelings were of no importance. After all, who would expect that from him? It was nothing more than a cumbersome, unnecessary detail.
Erna, barely able to stop her tears, stared blankly at the man lying beside her. The prospect of living as Bjorn's wife suddenly felt overwhelming. It felt like the days when she sighed, wondering how many flowers she would have to sell to repay her debt to the Prince.
Instead of the debt she couldn't fully repay with flowers, she became a flower for Bjorn. So she must live as he wishes. She must live up to her worth.
But what should I do?
Erna's eyes, filled with Bjorn, became clouded with tears again.
I... I don't have the confidence that I will never wither.
The moment those tears flowed quietly, Bjorn's eyes opened. Erna, who had no time to look away, met his gaze and held her breath without realizing it. Her eyes were hazy, as if she were half asleep.
Bjorn, who had been tossing and turning for a while, soon fell back asleep. He held Erna close to his chest, their legs intertwined.
Erna, at a loss for what to do, closed her eyes tightly and counted. Three. A little slower, five. And enough time passed to count to ten again, but the breath tickling her forehead and the cool, soft warmth enveloping her body remained the same.
Erna let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. Bjorn's embrace was as cozy as ever. So, for now, she wanted to pretend she didn't know. Tomorrow, Bjorn would explain everything, and she would be able to smile as beautifully as a flower. Day after day, time passed, and when the baby was born, it truly felt like everything would be okay. And so they lived happily ever after. Like the most perfect and beautiful ending to a fairy tale.
In the comfort of that sweet lie, Erna soon fell into a deep sleep.
Bjorn.
She whispered his name several times before falling asleep. She couldn't quite remember what she wanted to say.
"Oh. The Princess is being burned at the stake."
Peter's eyes widened as he saw the flames burning in the square.
The crowds that had gathered for a violent demonstration demanding an immediate declaration of war on Lars were now gathering and burning all traces of Gladys. Postcards, newspapers, pamphlets, and all manner of mementos of the former Crown Prince and his wife's wedding photos flew relentlessly into the flames. The terrace of the social club was crowded with gentlemen who had come out to watch the demonstration.
“No matter how angry you are, please spare the innocent Prince. Ugh. It must be hot, Bjorn.”
Peter clicked his tongue as he looked at the Crown Prince Bjorn, burning with Gladys.
"Since he's already remarried, what's the point of having a portrait of your dirty ex-wife left behind? I'd rather it all burn and disappear."
Leonard, setting down his glass, retorted cynically. The group, who had been observing one another, agreed with his opinion in silence.
As is the case everywhere in Letzen these days, the biggest topic of conversation in the social club was Bjorn and Gladys. The closer you were to Bjorn, the more shocked you were by this incident.
“Burn the witch of Lars! Burn her now!”
As the man who poured oil on the flames shouted, everyone joined in the chant. In just a week, the ill-fated Crown Princess had been transformed into a witch destined for the stake.
"Come to think of it, everyone really loved Princess Gladys. It's been almost a year since he remarried, and yet so many people still keep mementos of Bjorn and Princess Gladys."
Peter shook his head and asked while smoking a cigar.
"Everyone just hoped he'd quickly divorce his second wife and reunite with Princess Gladys. And it wasn't long before my mother was one of them."
“Yes. My sister was so shocked that she was bedridden for several days.”
“I have to keep a close eye on them so they don’t go to the river.”
Leonard's joke drew a mischievous laugh from everyone. The incident of a girl who had been a devoted admirer of Princess Gladys jumping into the Abbey River had stirred up a stir throughout the city for days. Fortunately, the water was shallow, and she was quickly rescued, but her life was not in danger.
“Is Bjorn okay?”
Peter's worried question darkened the faces of those sitting around the table. But soon, everyone reached the same conclusion: there was no point in worrying about a bastard who had managed to hide such a secret so well. They should instead worry about the Grand Duchess.
“But the baby deer must have known, right?”
“Of course. If you hid it even from the Grand Duchess, then are you a human being?”
“That’s true.”
Leonard's views were accepted without any objection.
"Knowing everything, yet still playing the villain for her husband? What a tearful love."
While they were admiring the Grand Duchess, a group of protesters appeared, holding a portrait the size of a person. It was a wedding portrait of the former Crown Prince and his wife.
“Where on earth did you hang that?”
It seemed certain that Letzen's love for Princess Gladys was bordering on madness.
Just as the portrait was being thrown into the flames, the Count's son, having received the news, came running in a frenzy. The front page of the tabloid he had just picked up contained a confession from the opera singer known to be Bjorn's love interest.
The truth of that day can now be told.
The table soon became a mess as people flocked to the provocative headline.
“Burn the witch of Lars!”
The square was filled with angry shouts, carried by the autumn-heralding wind, and mixed with the commotion on the terrace.
Perhaps exhausted, Bjorn was sleeping much more deeply than usual. It was fortunate he hadn't woken up, but handling the unconscious body of a large man proved more difficult than expected.
After struggling for a long time, Erna finally managed to remove all of Bjorn's clothes. By the time she finished laying him upright and propping him up with a pillow, sweat was already beading on her forehead.
After taking a moment to catch her breath, Erna wiped Bjorn's face with a towel soaked in lukewarm water. It had been a long time since she'd looked at his face so closely, and her hands unconsciously slowed.
Waited for Bjorn.
All the while she waited, she thought to herself, even if she was deceived again, she would gladly be deceived. A fool who would forgive, understand, and love this man again with just a single, fabricated apology. That was Erna.
But to him, she is nothing more than this insignificant being.
Erna held her breath for a moment, clutching the wet towel tightly. The shadows beneath her eyes, created by her long eyelashes, fluttered.
Erna imagined countless times the moment she would face Bjorn upon his return. What expression would he make, what would he say? Erna couldn't quite picture this noble man apologizing, but she believed it wouldn't be like this.
At least he should have told her.
The meaningless assumption began to torment her again. Even then, she wouldn't have been able to avoid being labeled the villain who usurped Princess Gladys's place, but she would have endured it much more easily. Yet, this man, even as he witnessed his wife's humiliation and pain from the closest quarters, kept the secret.
If the poet's last work hadn't been revealed to the world in this way, this man would have fooled her and even their child for the rest of his life.
Erna's fingertips trembled slightly as she stroked Bjorn's cheek, swallowing back tears. A deep sense of betrayal seemed to suffocate her. But even in this moment, a large teardrop fell, tapping down the cheek of the man she didn't hate.
Only then did Erna realize she was crying, and she wiped away the traces of her tears. Although he tossed and turned slightly, Bjorn thankfully didn't wake up.
Erna sighed in relief and wiped her tear-soaked face with the sleeve of her pajamas. She rubbed too hard, causing the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose to turn bright red.
Erna, catching her breath as if steeling herself, quickly began wiping Bjorn's body. He was a very bright and sensitive sleeper, always a source of worry, but today he was surprisingly sound asleep. It was understandable why he'd fallen asleep like that.
So don't cry.
Erna consoled herself and fixed her handkerchief.
It's okay.
The crying soon subsided, as if the lie that was already known to be a lie was not completely ineffective.
Erna moved even more cautiously, not wanting to wake Bjorn, who must have been very tired. The sound of water lapping in the basin, small sighs, and the sound of diligent footsteps quietly permeated the silence of the bedroom. Bjorn didn't wake even after she had covered his now-clean body with the blanket.
Erna neatly folded and organized the clothes she had taken off, put away the basin and towels, and closed the curtains in the wide-open bedroom. By the time she returned to Bjorn's side, her heavy eyelids were half-closed.
Finally, Erna turned off the lamp and sat down at the end of the bed with a weary face. A slight pulling pain in her stomach came over her, but it didn't last long.
Erna gently stroked her belly, as if trying to soothe a fussy child. The attending doctor who had visited a few days earlier had told her that the baby was growing rapidly and that stomach aches were common. He said her belly would grow larger each day, and Erna was both a little afraid and excited about that prospect.
She wonders if he will grow up well and become as big as his father.
Erna's eyes, which had been quietly watching Bjorn, gradually furrowed. The realization that he was a very large man suddenly made her feel frightened.
Well, that would be a bit tricky.
Erna smiled blandly and patted her belly again. She hoped the child would agree with her opinion that it would be best to postpone growing up like his father until after he was born.
After hesitating for a while, Erna finally lay down beside Bjorn, her exhausted body trembling. The thought of falling asleep together for the first time in a long while filled her eyes with tears once again.
Memories of the first night they shared a bed floated up to the ceiling beyond the darkness. Bjorn would never know how much courage it took to cling to him again, despite being rejected so many times. Nor how happy she was to have that fervent wish fulfilled.
That night, Erna fought back her drowsiness and watched Bjorn drift off to sleep. The next morning, she woke up early and waited for Bjorn to wake up. She watched him fall asleep and wake up. Just knowing this made her feel like they were truly a couple, and her heart swelled with excitement.
But was that just a daydream of her own?
Erna's gaze, wandering aimlessly through the darkness, suddenly stopped at her own tingling fingertips. She'd done nothing all day except turn the pages of a book, yet her knuckles were numb and aching, as if she'd been busy making artificial flowers for a delivery, without a moment's rest.
As Erna began to knead her clasped hands, tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. The harder she tried to swallow them, the thicker and hotter her silent tears became.
Family. Your closest friends and lovers. Your lifelong companions. Your place of support. Your dreams and hopes. And love.
The words she'd uttered to keep Bjorn in line were Erna's most sincere confession. No matter what anyone said, that was the meaning her husband held for her. She dreamed that if she continued to do her best with that mindset, she might one day become at least one of those meanings for Bjorn.
Don't cry.
She tried to push herself again, but the tears wouldn't stop as she wanted them to.
There were so many good days they had together.
Bjorn was a man who could have been a loving husband if he had only made up his mind to be so, and Erna was happy at the moment she was the wife of such a husband.
But can you call that love?
He simply loved her as long as he saw what he showed her and did as she was told. He cherished her like a tame puppy or cat. Erna's thoughts and feelings were of no importance. After all, who would expect that from him? It was nothing more than a cumbersome, unnecessary detail.
Erna, barely able to stop her tears, stared blankly at the man lying beside her. The prospect of living as Bjorn's wife suddenly felt overwhelming. It felt like the days when she sighed, wondering how many flowers she would have to sell to repay her debt to the Prince.
Instead of the debt she couldn't fully repay with flowers, she became a flower for Bjorn. So she must live as he wishes. She must live up to her worth.
But what should I do?
Erna's eyes, filled with Bjorn, became clouded with tears again.
I... I don't have the confidence that I will never wither.
The moment those tears flowed quietly, Bjorn's eyes opened. Erna, who had no time to look away, met his gaze and held her breath without realizing it. Her eyes were hazy, as if she were half asleep.
Bjorn, who had been tossing and turning for a while, soon fell back asleep. He held Erna close to his chest, their legs intertwined.
Erna, at a loss for what to do, closed her eyes tightly and counted. Three. A little slower, five. And enough time passed to count to ten again, but the breath tickling her forehead and the cool, soft warmth enveloping her body remained the same.
Erna let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. Bjorn's embrace was as cozy as ever. So, for now, she wanted to pretend she didn't know. Tomorrow, Bjorn would explain everything, and she would be able to smile as beautifully as a flower. Day after day, time passed, and when the baby was born, it truly felt like everything would be okay. And so they lived happily ever after. Like the most perfect and beautiful ending to a fairy tale.
In the comfort of that sweet lie, Erna soon fell into a deep sleep.
Bjorn.
She whispered his name several times before falling asleep. She couldn't quite remember what she wanted to say.
***
"Oh. The Princess is being burned at the stake."
Peter's eyes widened as he saw the flames burning in the square.
The crowds that had gathered for a violent demonstration demanding an immediate declaration of war on Lars were now gathering and burning all traces of Gladys. Postcards, newspapers, pamphlets, and all manner of mementos of the former Crown Prince and his wife's wedding photos flew relentlessly into the flames. The terrace of the social club was crowded with gentlemen who had come out to watch the demonstration.
“No matter how angry you are, please spare the innocent Prince. Ugh. It must be hot, Bjorn.”
Peter clicked his tongue as he looked at the Crown Prince Bjorn, burning with Gladys.
"Since he's already remarried, what's the point of having a portrait of your dirty ex-wife left behind? I'd rather it all burn and disappear."
Leonard, setting down his glass, retorted cynically. The group, who had been observing one another, agreed with his opinion in silence.
As is the case everywhere in Letzen these days, the biggest topic of conversation in the social club was Bjorn and Gladys. The closer you were to Bjorn, the more shocked you were by this incident.
“Burn the witch of Lars! Burn her now!”
As the man who poured oil on the flames shouted, everyone joined in the chant. In just a week, the ill-fated Crown Princess had been transformed into a witch destined for the stake.
"Come to think of it, everyone really loved Princess Gladys. It's been almost a year since he remarried, and yet so many people still keep mementos of Bjorn and Princess Gladys."
Peter shook his head and asked while smoking a cigar.
"Everyone just hoped he'd quickly divorce his second wife and reunite with Princess Gladys. And it wasn't long before my mother was one of them."
“Yes. My sister was so shocked that she was bedridden for several days.”
“I have to keep a close eye on them so they don’t go to the river.”
Leonard's joke drew a mischievous laugh from everyone. The incident of a girl who had been a devoted admirer of Princess Gladys jumping into the Abbey River had stirred up a stir throughout the city for days. Fortunately, the water was shallow, and she was quickly rescued, but her life was not in danger.
“Is Bjorn okay?”
Peter's worried question darkened the faces of those sitting around the table. But soon, everyone reached the same conclusion: there was no point in worrying about a bastard who had managed to hide such a secret so well. They should instead worry about the Grand Duchess.
“But the baby deer must have known, right?”
“Of course. If you hid it even from the Grand Duchess, then are you a human being?”
“That’s true.”
Leonard's views were accepted without any objection.
"Knowing everything, yet still playing the villain for her husband? What a tearful love."
While they were admiring the Grand Duchess, a group of protesters appeared, holding a portrait the size of a person. It was a wedding portrait of the former Crown Prince and his wife.
“Where on earth did you hang that?”
It seemed certain that Letzen's love for Princess Gladys was bordering on madness.
Just as the portrait was being thrown into the flames, the Count's son, having received the news, came running in a frenzy. The front page of the tabloid he had just picked up contained a confession from the opera singer known to be Bjorn's love interest.
The truth of that day can now be told.
The table soon became a mess as people flocked to the provocative headline.
“Burn the witch of Lars!”
The square was filled with angry shouts, carried by the autumn-heralding wind, and mixed with the commotion on the terrace.
Can you translate "Obituary: Sonata for Two Lovers" Please🙏🙏
ReplyDeletecan you please translate" Despicable, Elegantly" Novel .its korean name is 비열하고, 우아하게.
ReplyDelete