112. The Witch and the Saint
Mrs. Fitz entered the Grand Duke's bedroom just as Bjorn was sitting at the table set on the balcony.
Bjorn glanced at her, holding a glass of whiskey soda filled with ice. No trace of the uproar that had shaken the nation was visible on his calm face.
“You are truly terrible.”
Mrs. Fitz, standing more upright than ever, rebuked him in a clear voice. Though it was all she said, it wasn't difficult to discern the resentment, concern, and deep compassion contained within.
Bjorn smiled and accepted the mail she handed him. Since Mrs. Fitz had filtered out most of the unnecessary mail, there wasn't much to check.
“Please have the carriage ready so we can leave in 30 minutes.”
Bjorn, who had checked the letter from the bank, gave a calm order.
“How about taking a break for the time being?”
Mrs. Fitz added her uncharacteristic interference.
"You've been working yourself to death. No matter how young and healthy you are, overworking yourself like that is bound to lead to illness."
“If I'm sick, my nanny can sing me a lullaby.”
Bjorn opened the newspaper, offering a sly reply. Today, too, the world was in an uproar over the truth about Princess Gladys.
After skimming through the interview with the opera singer confessing to a fabricated extramarital affair, Bjorn leaned back in his chair, picking up an apple.
He will keep it a secret for the rest of his life.
When the actress received a large sum of money for playing the Crown Prince's mistress, she clearly swore an oath. So, it was a breach of contract, but since she had nothing to lose, she didn't care. It was also something Erna wouldn't mind knowing.
Erna.
The name that came to mind as he bit into the apple was as sweet as the juice that spread throughout his mouth.
Only after opening his eyes in Erna's bed did Bjorn realize the events of the previous night were real. As his own laughter simmered, his consciousness gradually cleared, and he grasped the general situation. Erna was sound asleep beside him.
Bjorn quietly slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake his wife. By the time he returned to his bedroom and took a bath, it was already close to noon.
'You have something to tell me.'
Erna's face, sobbing and pleading, floated vaguely above the late summer garden scenery.
It would be pointless to ramble on about something that was probably not much different from what she already knew, but if she so desperately wanted it, he could certainly grant it. However, it wasn't worth waking Erna from her slumber, so he's make a quick trip to the bank and then return. Tonight's dinner would be a good time.
Bjorn wiped the juice from his fingers with a napkin and sat up lightly. Even when he finished preparing to go out and came out, Mrs. Fitz was still guarding his suite.
“Do you have anything to say to me, Your Highness?”
Her expression was as solemn as ever, but the wrinkles around her eyes were faintly red. Knowing the reason, Bjorn faced Madame Fitz with a quiet smile.
“My nanny is still pretty even when she becomes a grandmother.”
Mrs. Fitz burst into a fit of laughter at the absurd joke. The smile on Bjorn's lips, who had been silently looking down at her, grew even more pronounced.
“You look prettier when you smile.”
“Your Highness.”
“It’s okay. I’m serious.”
A soft force filled Bjorn's voice. Knowing full well that the stubborn Prince would not give any more answers, Madame Fitz nodded at that point.
“You’ve worked so hard.”
Mrs. Fitz, who had offered a polite greeting, stepped back. Bjorn bowed more deeply than usual, then strode forward with a long stride.
Mrs. Fitz escorted him to the front door. Before boarding the carriage, Bjorn met her gaze and smiled, like the boy he was back in those days, when he couldn't be hated despite his daily mischief.
That was all, but it was enough.
That was the kind of person Mrs. Fitz had raised. And still, she loved him.
"Did the sky fall? Just do it. Just do it."
Lisa's gaze, filled with annoyance, she couldn't hide as she watched the young maid wailing, flinching, and holding her breath. Soon, the maid burst into even louder sobs, disturbing the tranquility of the servants' lounge.
“How could Princess Gladys do this? How!”
Another maid, wanting to deny reality, joined the sobs.
The servant who was reading Princess Gladys's letter from the tabloid newspaper looked around the room with an embarrassed expression, as if they were debating whether to continue.
To advertise the forthcoming translation, Hermann Publishers released several of Princess Gladys's most provocative letters, all addressed to her then-lover, the poet Gerald Owen.
“Why did you stop? I’m dying to know what happens next.”
Lisa urged with a booming voice. She didn't forget to adopt the same arrogant expression as the crowd that had been sitting at this table, slandering Erna.
"That's right. Read it quickly. Hear how heinous it was."
“Why are you standing there blankly? I told you to continue.”
As the servants, who were furious to the point of hair loss, continued to nudge him, the servant began to read Princess Gladys's letter again.
"You are the father of the child growing inside me. My husband has never even held me, so there can be no room for doubt. Gerald, every day feels like walking on thin ice. Does Prince Bjorn really want to raise our child as his own? If so, what should I do? The guilt and anxiety are becoming increasingly difficult to bear. And yet, I don't know what to do with this sinful me who awaits you and our child."
Upon hearing the contents of the letter informing the government of the pregnancy, the servants went into a frenzy. Their betrayal intensified, their wailing intensified, and their voices, hurling curses, grew louder.
"I didn't even realize I was being subjected to such dirty tricks. We were all cursing the Prince like we were going to kill him."
"Actually, Princess Gladys has been a bit like that for a while now. She may seem kind and elegant on the outside, but she's always seemed like a coward."
As soon as the maid, who admired Princess Gladys more than anyone else, spoke, sympathy began to pour out from here and there.
Despite her polite pretense, she was actually quite arrogant. Her gait was somehow even. Without her makeup, she seemed even less beautiful than the current Grand Duchess.
The gossip became increasingly far-fetched and childish. Lisa, who had been quietly watching the commotion, snorted in disbelief.
The world changed in just one week.
The hated royal Prince, the poisonous mushroom, became a noble hero who sacrificed himself for his country. Articles praising Bjorn and criticizing the Lars royal family poured out every day. Erna, knowing all this, began to be called the admirable Grand Duchess who had taken on the villainy. She was said to be nothing short of a saint, silently enduring such harsh criticism for the sake of Letzen and her husband.
Did she really know everything?
Erna never gave a definitive answer to that question, but Lisa believed it could never be true. She was certain of this because she had been watching the Grand Duchess, the laughingstock of the entire nation, from the closest angle.
“The Hardy family is beyond redemption, but they seem to be better people than they appear.”
The mouths that had been so full of badmouthing Princess Gladys now began to subtly mention Erna.
“Now that she's cut ties with the Hardy family, she's no longer a member of the family.”
“She is far from being a suitable candidate for a Queen, but considering that she was there for the Prince when he was having a hard time, I think it’s understandable.”
“Our Prince will become Crown Prince again?”
"Wouldn't that be so? Now that the truth has been revealed, he should take his place."
Now, everyone was excited by the dream of placing a poisonous mushroom on the throne. The Grand Duchess, who had been despised and called a "one-year-old" at best, had naturally become Queen.
“You are having a lot of fun.”
Lisa, who had been laughing, suddenly stood up and shouted. The surprised servants' eyes all turned to her.
“Why are you blaming Princess Gladys now? Did she order you to mistreat the Grand Duchess?”
“That, that’s right. We were also fooled by that Princess and misunderstood Her Highness...”
"No. You're just a bunch of villains who find it amusing to throw someone in the mud and torment them while giggling. Don't even think about blaming Princess Gladys. You're just as bad as her."
Lisa strained her eyes to keep from crying.
They once called Erna a sly woman who needed to be expelled immediately, but now they're treating her like a saint and worshipping her. Then and now, Erna is just Erna.
“Even so, isn’t that a bit too much?”
As the blushing maid uttered her rebuttal, the bell began to ring. It was the Grand Duchess's bedroom.
The incessant, urgent, and sharp ringing of the bell chilled the atmosphere in the break room. This was because the Grand Duchess, always cautious and cautious in summoning her servants, was well aware of the situation.
Lisa, lost in thought, ran out of the break room in a frenzy. The head maid, who had been hesitating, soon followed.
The executives of Freire Bank glanced at the top table with slightly weary eyes.
Prince Bjorn appeared.
When the conference room door first opened, everyone believed they were hallucinating. It made no sense to be concerned about bank business amidst all this chaos. But today's events proved that the Prince's passion for money was far more fervent than anyone had imagined.
Prince Bjorn, the very person responsible for making everyone anxious and nervous, presided over today's meeting with a nonchalant demeanor. His ceremonial smile and neat attire belied the pitiful Prince, the victim of a fraudulent marriage, or the hero who had abandoned his crown for the sake of his nation. He was simply Bjorn Dneister, the man everyone knew.
The meeting on the Northern Railway investment project concluded faster than expected. Prince Bjorn had a clear understanding of the issue and effectively balanced the opinions of those who criticized the instability of the railway companies' indiscriminate issuance of stocks with those who advocated aggressive investment. The mercury mine and iron foundry investment projects were also concluded similarly.
“I, Your Highness.”
A young director who had remained in the conference room until the very end cautiously approached the head of the table. Bjorn looked up from his gaze outside the window and met his gaze.
“I know you must have been very worried.”
He proved his loyalty by adding a sorrowful expression. A smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he put down the glass of water he was loosely holding in one hand.
“I’ll just worry about this accounting book.”
Bjorn's gesture, pointing to the documents on the desk, was light and airy. While the director was flustered by the unexpected answer, was flustered, Bjorn uncrossed his legs and stood up.
“I look forward to hearing your comforting words at our next meeting.”
“Are you going to continue working at the bank?”
He looked at Bjorn with astonishment. Even before the Prince appeared in the conference room, everyone had been guessing he would return to his position as Crown Prince.
The Prince, who had been staring blankly at him as if he were listening to every word he said, picked up his jacket and turned around. The sound of his footsteps echoing through the quiet conference room was leisurely yet measured.
“Oh, right.”
Just as he was about to sigh at the thought of losing a point while trying to score, Bjorn suddenly glanced over his shoulder.
“I think there was a child.”
“Yes? Oh, I do have two sons and one daughter.”
“That went well.”
The Prince turned to face him, who had a bewildered expression on his face.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
Prince Bjorn's eyes turned serious for the first time since the conversation began. He nodded willingly, his face beaming with joy.
“Yes. Feel free to tell me, Your Highness.”
Mrs. Fitz entered the Grand Duke's bedroom just as Bjorn was sitting at the table set on the balcony.
Bjorn glanced at her, holding a glass of whiskey soda filled with ice. No trace of the uproar that had shaken the nation was visible on his calm face.
“You are truly terrible.”
Mrs. Fitz, standing more upright than ever, rebuked him in a clear voice. Though it was all she said, it wasn't difficult to discern the resentment, concern, and deep compassion contained within.
Bjorn smiled and accepted the mail she handed him. Since Mrs. Fitz had filtered out most of the unnecessary mail, there wasn't much to check.
“Please have the carriage ready so we can leave in 30 minutes.”
Bjorn, who had checked the letter from the bank, gave a calm order.
“How about taking a break for the time being?”
Mrs. Fitz added her uncharacteristic interference.
"You've been working yourself to death. No matter how young and healthy you are, overworking yourself like that is bound to lead to illness."
“If I'm sick, my nanny can sing me a lullaby.”
Bjorn opened the newspaper, offering a sly reply. Today, too, the world was in an uproar over the truth about Princess Gladys.
After skimming through the interview with the opera singer confessing to a fabricated extramarital affair, Bjorn leaned back in his chair, picking up an apple.
He will keep it a secret for the rest of his life.
When the actress received a large sum of money for playing the Crown Prince's mistress, she clearly swore an oath. So, it was a breach of contract, but since she had nothing to lose, she didn't care. It was also something Erna wouldn't mind knowing.
Erna.
The name that came to mind as he bit into the apple was as sweet as the juice that spread throughout his mouth.
Only after opening his eyes in Erna's bed did Bjorn realize the events of the previous night were real. As his own laughter simmered, his consciousness gradually cleared, and he grasped the general situation. Erna was sound asleep beside him.
Bjorn quietly slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake his wife. By the time he returned to his bedroom and took a bath, it was already close to noon.
'You have something to tell me.'
Erna's face, sobbing and pleading, floated vaguely above the late summer garden scenery.
It would be pointless to ramble on about something that was probably not much different from what she already knew, but if she so desperately wanted it, he could certainly grant it. However, it wasn't worth waking Erna from her slumber, so he's make a quick trip to the bank and then return. Tonight's dinner would be a good time.
Bjorn wiped the juice from his fingers with a napkin and sat up lightly. Even when he finished preparing to go out and came out, Mrs. Fitz was still guarding his suite.
“Do you have anything to say to me, Your Highness?”
Her expression was as solemn as ever, but the wrinkles around her eyes were faintly red. Knowing the reason, Bjorn faced Madame Fitz with a quiet smile.
“My nanny is still pretty even when she becomes a grandmother.”
Mrs. Fitz burst into a fit of laughter at the absurd joke. The smile on Bjorn's lips, who had been silently looking down at her, grew even more pronounced.
“You look prettier when you smile.”
“Your Highness.”
“It’s okay. I’m serious.”
A soft force filled Bjorn's voice. Knowing full well that the stubborn Prince would not give any more answers, Madame Fitz nodded at that point.
“You’ve worked so hard.”
Mrs. Fitz, who had offered a polite greeting, stepped back. Bjorn bowed more deeply than usual, then strode forward with a long stride.
Mrs. Fitz escorted him to the front door. Before boarding the carriage, Bjorn met her gaze and smiled, like the boy he was back in those days, when he couldn't be hated despite his daily mischief.
That was all, but it was enough.
That was the kind of person Mrs. Fitz had raised. And still, she loved him.
***
"Did the sky fall? Just do it. Just do it."
Lisa's gaze, filled with annoyance, she couldn't hide as she watched the young maid wailing, flinching, and holding her breath. Soon, the maid burst into even louder sobs, disturbing the tranquility of the servants' lounge.
“How could Princess Gladys do this? How!”
Another maid, wanting to deny reality, joined the sobs.
The servant who was reading Princess Gladys's letter from the tabloid newspaper looked around the room with an embarrassed expression, as if they were debating whether to continue.
To advertise the forthcoming translation, Hermann Publishers released several of Princess Gladys's most provocative letters, all addressed to her then-lover, the poet Gerald Owen.
“Why did you stop? I’m dying to know what happens next.”
Lisa urged with a booming voice. She didn't forget to adopt the same arrogant expression as the crowd that had been sitting at this table, slandering Erna.
"That's right. Read it quickly. Hear how heinous it was."
“Why are you standing there blankly? I told you to continue.”
As the servants, who were furious to the point of hair loss, continued to nudge him, the servant began to read Princess Gladys's letter again.
"You are the father of the child growing inside me. My husband has never even held me, so there can be no room for doubt. Gerald, every day feels like walking on thin ice. Does Prince Bjorn really want to raise our child as his own? If so, what should I do? The guilt and anxiety are becoming increasingly difficult to bear. And yet, I don't know what to do with this sinful me who awaits you and our child."
Upon hearing the contents of the letter informing the government of the pregnancy, the servants went into a frenzy. Their betrayal intensified, their wailing intensified, and their voices, hurling curses, grew louder.
"I didn't even realize I was being subjected to such dirty tricks. We were all cursing the Prince like we were going to kill him."
"Actually, Princess Gladys has been a bit like that for a while now. She may seem kind and elegant on the outside, but she's always seemed like a coward."
As soon as the maid, who admired Princess Gladys more than anyone else, spoke, sympathy began to pour out from here and there.
Despite her polite pretense, she was actually quite arrogant. Her gait was somehow even. Without her makeup, she seemed even less beautiful than the current Grand Duchess.
The gossip became increasingly far-fetched and childish. Lisa, who had been quietly watching the commotion, snorted in disbelief.
The world changed in just one week.
The hated royal Prince, the poisonous mushroom, became a noble hero who sacrificed himself for his country. Articles praising Bjorn and criticizing the Lars royal family poured out every day. Erna, knowing all this, began to be called the admirable Grand Duchess who had taken on the villainy. She was said to be nothing short of a saint, silently enduring such harsh criticism for the sake of Letzen and her husband.
Did she really know everything?
Erna never gave a definitive answer to that question, but Lisa believed it could never be true. She was certain of this because she had been watching the Grand Duchess, the laughingstock of the entire nation, from the closest angle.
“The Hardy family is beyond redemption, but they seem to be better people than they appear.”
The mouths that had been so full of badmouthing Princess Gladys now began to subtly mention Erna.
“Now that she's cut ties with the Hardy family, she's no longer a member of the family.”
“She is far from being a suitable candidate for a Queen, but considering that she was there for the Prince when he was having a hard time, I think it’s understandable.”
“Our Prince will become Crown Prince again?”
"Wouldn't that be so? Now that the truth has been revealed, he should take his place."
Now, everyone was excited by the dream of placing a poisonous mushroom on the throne. The Grand Duchess, who had been despised and called a "one-year-old" at best, had naturally become Queen.
“You are having a lot of fun.”
Lisa, who had been laughing, suddenly stood up and shouted. The surprised servants' eyes all turned to her.
“Why are you blaming Princess Gladys now? Did she order you to mistreat the Grand Duchess?”
“That, that’s right. We were also fooled by that Princess and misunderstood Her Highness...”
"No. You're just a bunch of villains who find it amusing to throw someone in the mud and torment them while giggling. Don't even think about blaming Princess Gladys. You're just as bad as her."
Lisa strained her eyes to keep from crying.
They once called Erna a sly woman who needed to be expelled immediately, but now they're treating her like a saint and worshipping her. Then and now, Erna is just Erna.
“Even so, isn’t that a bit too much?”
As the blushing maid uttered her rebuttal, the bell began to ring. It was the Grand Duchess's bedroom.
The incessant, urgent, and sharp ringing of the bell chilled the atmosphere in the break room. This was because the Grand Duchess, always cautious and cautious in summoning her servants, was well aware of the situation.
Lisa, lost in thought, ran out of the break room in a frenzy. The head maid, who had been hesitating, soon followed.
***
The executives of Freire Bank glanced at the top table with slightly weary eyes.
Prince Bjorn appeared.
When the conference room door first opened, everyone believed they were hallucinating. It made no sense to be concerned about bank business amidst all this chaos. But today's events proved that the Prince's passion for money was far more fervent than anyone had imagined.
Prince Bjorn, the very person responsible for making everyone anxious and nervous, presided over today's meeting with a nonchalant demeanor. His ceremonial smile and neat attire belied the pitiful Prince, the victim of a fraudulent marriage, or the hero who had abandoned his crown for the sake of his nation. He was simply Bjorn Dneister, the man everyone knew.
The meeting on the Northern Railway investment project concluded faster than expected. Prince Bjorn had a clear understanding of the issue and effectively balanced the opinions of those who criticized the instability of the railway companies' indiscriminate issuance of stocks with those who advocated aggressive investment. The mercury mine and iron foundry investment projects were also concluded similarly.
“I, Your Highness.”
A young director who had remained in the conference room until the very end cautiously approached the head of the table. Bjorn looked up from his gaze outside the window and met his gaze.
“I know you must have been very worried.”
He proved his loyalty by adding a sorrowful expression. A smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he put down the glass of water he was loosely holding in one hand.
“I’ll just worry about this accounting book.”
Bjorn's gesture, pointing to the documents on the desk, was light and airy. While the director was flustered by the unexpected answer, was flustered, Bjorn uncrossed his legs and stood up.
“I look forward to hearing your comforting words at our next meeting.”
“Are you going to continue working at the bank?”
He looked at Bjorn with astonishment. Even before the Prince appeared in the conference room, everyone had been guessing he would return to his position as Crown Prince.
The Prince, who had been staring blankly at him as if he were listening to every word he said, picked up his jacket and turned around. The sound of his footsteps echoing through the quiet conference room was leisurely yet measured.
“Oh, right.”
Just as he was about to sigh at the thought of losing a point while trying to score, Bjorn suddenly glanced over his shoulder.
“I think there was a child.”
“Yes? Oh, I do have two sons and one daughter.”
“That went well.”
The Prince turned to face him, who had a bewildered expression on his face.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
Prince Bjorn's eyes turned serious for the first time since the conversation began. He nodded willingly, his face beaming with joy.
“Yes. Feel free to tell me, Your Highness.”
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