113. The King Who Owns Everything in the World
As she opened the bedroom door, the first thing she heard was Lisa's crying.
Mrs. Fitz stepped over the threshold, panting from the frantic rush. The bloodstains still lingering on the carpet and sheets, still unmoved, stung painfully.
Mrs. Fitz, who had briefly dismissed Lisa, who had lost her senses, gathered her composure and approached Erna, who lay in bed. Tears flowed ceaselessly, soaking her pale face.
“Blood, suddenly...”
Erna, meeting Mrs. Fitz's eyes, stammered out her words. A scream of excruciating pain burst out, accompanied by a hot breath.
It was an ordinary day.
The intermittent pain kept her awake, but it was a common occurrence. She could bear it, knowing it was proof that the baby was growing well. The comfort of being by Bjorn's side was also immense. When she woke up, she was alone again, but with the baby, it was okay.
Waited for Bjorn.
Now, she repeated that familiar task as if she was breathing.
Can you laugh?
Whenever a sudden question struck her, choking her breath, Erna would pat her belly as if asking for help, begging her child. Please, let me smile beautifully. For your sake, I can do my best. Please.
Did the baby hate that kind of mother?
No matter how hard she bit her lips, a scream escaped her again.
“The doctor will be here shortly, Your Highness.”
Mrs. Fitz's voice, though so close, seemed distant. So did Lisa's crying.
Erna nodded with difficulty and sobbed. She clasped her trembling legs together and tried to muster strength, but the gushing blood wouldn't stop as she'd hoped.
After hearing that Bjorn was out, she had a late breakfast. The pain returned just as the table, barely touched, was being cleared. Her heart began to pound with anxiety, but Erna decided to lie down in bed and wait.
Even with her mother's constant illness, he was a resilient child who endured well. Fortunately, he seemed to have taken after his father and was strong, which filled her with joy and gratitude. So, she believed that today would be okay. She had to. The moment she stood up to open the curtains, the sensation of something flowing between her legs was all the more shocking. It took a few blinks before Erna realized it was blood.
Bjorn.
From the moment she started ringing the bell frantically, she repeated his name countless times, even though she knew he wasn't here. As if that name would protect the baby.
Bjorn.
As the pain grew more intense, the voice calling out that name became more desperate.
Still, Erna waited for Bjorn.
If he came, looked into her eyes, and whispered, "It's okay," it felt like everything would be okay.
No, that wasn't it.
She just wanted Bjorn to be by her side. He was the person she missed most at this time of great fear and pain.
"I've sent someone to the Prince, so he'll be back soon. Just be patient for a little while. Do you understand? Yes?"
Mrs. Fitz wiped Erna's face, which was a mess of cold sweat and tears, and asked in a trembling voice.
Even as she crouched and groaned, Erna nodded like a good child. Her small hands, twisting the pillowcase, were soaked with blood.
Bjorn.
Erna endured it by simply calling out its name. It was the only thing she could do.
A carriage bearing the royal family's emblem stopped in the center of the downtown area.
Passersby who had stopped walking glanced at the place with a mixture of curiosity and questioning eyes.
Maybe. No way.
As the avenue filled with a tumultuous throng of people, the carriage door finally opened. The crowd erupted in cheers as they saw the Grand Duke appear beyond, spreading like a ripple.
“Are you okay?”
The groom and the servant glanced at Bjorn with worried eyes.
They found it utterly difficult to understand the Prince's decision to appear before the people in this way, especially in these times. Moreover, his destination was a department store. One could almost worry that his mind was in shambles, yet Bjorn remained utterly calm.
“Do it.”
Bjorn, giving a short, firm command, took the lead. His upright posture and wide stride revealed no sign of hesitation.
The servant, now lost in thought, began to hurriedly pursue the Prince. He couldn't believe he was facing this swarm of people without a proper escort. Unlike him, who seemed to be dying, Bjorn leisurely continued his way. Even more surprising was the voluntary retreat of the onlookers.
Occasionally, when chaos erupted, Bjorn would stop in his tracks, slowly surveying his surroundings. Yet, even this alone would cause people to take notice and then quickly fall silent. Bjorn's greetings and smiles were impeccably elegant and skillful. His approach to those who called out to him, wailing, or cursing Lars and Princess Gladys was no different.
The servant followed the Prince, feeling a bit bewildered. Contrary to their fears, they entered the department store without much trouble. Of course, they had to endure some disturbance from the crowds that followed them, but the uncontrollable situation they had feared didn't occur.
“Where are the baby dolls?”
Bjorn paused for a moment and asked a polite question to a clerk who looked as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight.
“It, it's upstairs...”
The clerk, who had turned pale, managed to utter a few words in a strangled voice.
Bjorn nodded and climbed the ornate staircase she pointed to, heading to the second floor. At some point, the sales associates began to follow the Prince, so he was able to easily find the toy store.
While mocking himself for being crazy, Bjorn strode into the store.
When asked what gift he had given his pregnant wife, the young director remained silent for a moment, blinking. His expression was even more embarrassed than when he had been given any of the more difficult instructions.
But soon he began to give detailed answers. What made him listen so patiently to his underwhelmingly boring story about flowers and children's toys was the expression on his face. Even now, looking back, Bjorn can still see his face, so full of joy and emotion, like a king who possessed the world. Despite his rugged appearance, he seemed to be a rather caring husband and father.
Until the conversation, which had been largely ineffective, concluded, Bjorn had intended to do things his own way. But when he remembered Erna, who had been flustered and flustered even when summoned by the best of the best, his lips uttered a completely different message.
To the department store.
It didn't seem like something he should do in his right mind, but once he actually did it, it wasn't that bad.
“Wow, Prince!”
The toy store clerk who made eye contact with Bjorn let out a scream.
Bjorn, his lips slightly raised in a smile, slowly approached the display case filled with toys. "My wife is pregnant," he said. Erna's face, seen that night—that single word—loomed faintly above the children's items.
That wasn't his intention.
But on a day when the worst things had happened in so many ways, and then came this shocking news, his mind was numb, and he couldn't think straight.
Walter Hardy.
The moment he heard that a child was born, Bjorn instinctively thought of that name. He wouldn't let that dirty name, that dirty name, taint his child.
So he did. That was all he could think about. He handled and erased as much of the noise generated in the process as possible. He made sure it didn't reach his wife, Erna.
Of course, it's a somewhat lame excuse.
“Are you looking for a gift for your baby?”
Bjorn nodded readily in response to the clerk's cautious question.
“What do you think would be good?”
Bjorn asked, nodding to a display case filled with teddy bears that looked just like the ones the director had boasted he had bought for his first child.
He said his child, even after he was quite old, still carried the doll around, treating it like a part of his body. Even as he whined about how much he'd worried about his son's love for the doll, he was smiling happily. It looked like a screw was loose, but it didn't seem all that bad.
“These are the most popular dolls.”
A thrilled clerk brought out two teddy bears. This one was for a daughter, the other for a son. Even Bjorn, who had no prior knowledge of such things, recognized them immediately.
“Do you think it’s a son? Or a daughter?”
The onlookers who had followed the Prince began to become agitated by the question posed by the clerk.
Son! Daughter!
The voices of each person shouting their wishes were mixed together in a jumble.
Twins!
Someone's desperate cry made Bjorn chuckle. It seemed impossible that two children could grow inside that small woman.
He guesses it doesn't matter either way, but what about Erna?
Bjorn took the doll the clerk handed him and examined it carefully.
Who will the child resemble?
Congratulations. You're about to become a father. The full meaning of that greeting finally dawned on him. He had a feeling their dinner table conversation tonight would be quite lengthy.
In the end, Bjorn bought both dolls. Surely she wouldn't be afraid of such an excessive gift.
“I apologize, Your Majesty.”
The attending doctor bowed his head and apologized in a somber voice. The doctors and nurses who followed him also did the same. Isabelle Dniester, who had been pacing anxiously in the reception room, let out a quiet sigh and closed her eyes.
When she rushed to Erna after hearing that she was bleeding, the situation had already deteriorated beyond control. The Grand Duchess was already extremely weak, and the bleeding was severe.
“Would it be difficult even if you try your best?”
The doctor's face darkened even more at the foolish question she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“What about Björn? Is he still there?”
Isabel Dniester, who had been rubbing her throbbing forehead, turned her gaze to look at Mrs. Fitz.
"I sent someone to the bank, but they said he's already left. Perhaps he got lost."
“Why at a time like this!”
“I’m looking for all the places the Prince might go, so he’ll be back soon.”
Mrs. Fitz bowed her head, feeling guilty.
She bitterly regretted not being able to stop Bjorn from going out. His presence wouldn't have made a difference, but it would have been a great comfort to the Archduchess, desperately searching for her husband.
“Now you have to make a decision.”
The attending doctor, who had regained the look of a prestigious doctor, urged her on.
“If we continue like this, the meaningless suffering will only continue, Your Majesty.”
Isabelle Dniester's complexion darkened even further as she understood what he was asking. Beyond the half-open bedroom door, the Grand Duchess's cries for her husband still drifted.
As she opened the bedroom door, the first thing she heard was Lisa's crying.
Mrs. Fitz stepped over the threshold, panting from the frantic rush. The bloodstains still lingering on the carpet and sheets, still unmoved, stung painfully.
Mrs. Fitz, who had briefly dismissed Lisa, who had lost her senses, gathered her composure and approached Erna, who lay in bed. Tears flowed ceaselessly, soaking her pale face.
“Blood, suddenly...”
Erna, meeting Mrs. Fitz's eyes, stammered out her words. A scream of excruciating pain burst out, accompanied by a hot breath.
It was an ordinary day.
The intermittent pain kept her awake, but it was a common occurrence. She could bear it, knowing it was proof that the baby was growing well. The comfort of being by Bjorn's side was also immense. When she woke up, she was alone again, but with the baby, it was okay.
Waited for Bjorn.
Now, she repeated that familiar task as if she was breathing.
Can you laugh?
Whenever a sudden question struck her, choking her breath, Erna would pat her belly as if asking for help, begging her child. Please, let me smile beautifully. For your sake, I can do my best. Please.
Did the baby hate that kind of mother?
No matter how hard she bit her lips, a scream escaped her again.
“The doctor will be here shortly, Your Highness.”
Mrs. Fitz's voice, though so close, seemed distant. So did Lisa's crying.
Erna nodded with difficulty and sobbed. She clasped her trembling legs together and tried to muster strength, but the gushing blood wouldn't stop as she'd hoped.
After hearing that Bjorn was out, she had a late breakfast. The pain returned just as the table, barely touched, was being cleared. Her heart began to pound with anxiety, but Erna decided to lie down in bed and wait.
Even with her mother's constant illness, he was a resilient child who endured well. Fortunately, he seemed to have taken after his father and was strong, which filled her with joy and gratitude. So, she believed that today would be okay. She had to. The moment she stood up to open the curtains, the sensation of something flowing between her legs was all the more shocking. It took a few blinks before Erna realized it was blood.
Bjorn.
From the moment she started ringing the bell frantically, she repeated his name countless times, even though she knew he wasn't here. As if that name would protect the baby.
Bjorn.
As the pain grew more intense, the voice calling out that name became more desperate.
Still, Erna waited for Bjorn.
If he came, looked into her eyes, and whispered, "It's okay," it felt like everything would be okay.
No, that wasn't it.
She just wanted Bjorn to be by her side. He was the person she missed most at this time of great fear and pain.
"I've sent someone to the Prince, so he'll be back soon. Just be patient for a little while. Do you understand? Yes?"
Mrs. Fitz wiped Erna's face, which was a mess of cold sweat and tears, and asked in a trembling voice.
Even as she crouched and groaned, Erna nodded like a good child. Her small hands, twisting the pillowcase, were soaked with blood.
Bjorn.
Erna endured it by simply calling out its name. It was the only thing she could do.
***
A carriage bearing the royal family's emblem stopped in the center of the downtown area.
Passersby who had stopped walking glanced at the place with a mixture of curiosity and questioning eyes.
Maybe. No way.
As the avenue filled with a tumultuous throng of people, the carriage door finally opened. The crowd erupted in cheers as they saw the Grand Duke appear beyond, spreading like a ripple.
“Are you okay?”
The groom and the servant glanced at Bjorn with worried eyes.
They found it utterly difficult to understand the Prince's decision to appear before the people in this way, especially in these times. Moreover, his destination was a department store. One could almost worry that his mind was in shambles, yet Bjorn remained utterly calm.
“Do it.”
Bjorn, giving a short, firm command, took the lead. His upright posture and wide stride revealed no sign of hesitation.
The servant, now lost in thought, began to hurriedly pursue the Prince. He couldn't believe he was facing this swarm of people without a proper escort. Unlike him, who seemed to be dying, Bjorn leisurely continued his way. Even more surprising was the voluntary retreat of the onlookers.
Occasionally, when chaos erupted, Bjorn would stop in his tracks, slowly surveying his surroundings. Yet, even this alone would cause people to take notice and then quickly fall silent. Bjorn's greetings and smiles were impeccably elegant and skillful. His approach to those who called out to him, wailing, or cursing Lars and Princess Gladys was no different.
The servant followed the Prince, feeling a bit bewildered. Contrary to their fears, they entered the department store without much trouble. Of course, they had to endure some disturbance from the crowds that followed them, but the uncontrollable situation they had feared didn't occur.
“Where are the baby dolls?”
Bjorn paused for a moment and asked a polite question to a clerk who looked as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight.
“It, it's upstairs...”
The clerk, who had turned pale, managed to utter a few words in a strangled voice.
Bjorn nodded and climbed the ornate staircase she pointed to, heading to the second floor. At some point, the sales associates began to follow the Prince, so he was able to easily find the toy store.
While mocking himself for being crazy, Bjorn strode into the store.
When asked what gift he had given his pregnant wife, the young director remained silent for a moment, blinking. His expression was even more embarrassed than when he had been given any of the more difficult instructions.
But soon he began to give detailed answers. What made him listen so patiently to his underwhelmingly boring story about flowers and children's toys was the expression on his face. Even now, looking back, Bjorn can still see his face, so full of joy and emotion, like a king who possessed the world. Despite his rugged appearance, he seemed to be a rather caring husband and father.
Until the conversation, which had been largely ineffective, concluded, Bjorn had intended to do things his own way. But when he remembered Erna, who had been flustered and flustered even when summoned by the best of the best, his lips uttered a completely different message.
To the department store.
It didn't seem like something he should do in his right mind, but once he actually did it, it wasn't that bad.
“Wow, Prince!”
The toy store clerk who made eye contact with Bjorn let out a scream.
Bjorn, his lips slightly raised in a smile, slowly approached the display case filled with toys. "My wife is pregnant," he said. Erna's face, seen that night—that single word—loomed faintly above the children's items.
That wasn't his intention.
But on a day when the worst things had happened in so many ways, and then came this shocking news, his mind was numb, and he couldn't think straight.
Walter Hardy.
The moment he heard that a child was born, Bjorn instinctively thought of that name. He wouldn't let that dirty name, that dirty name, taint his child.
So he did. That was all he could think about. He handled and erased as much of the noise generated in the process as possible. He made sure it didn't reach his wife, Erna.
Of course, it's a somewhat lame excuse.
“Are you looking for a gift for your baby?”
Bjorn nodded readily in response to the clerk's cautious question.
“What do you think would be good?”
Bjorn asked, nodding to a display case filled with teddy bears that looked just like the ones the director had boasted he had bought for his first child.
He said his child, even after he was quite old, still carried the doll around, treating it like a part of his body. Even as he whined about how much he'd worried about his son's love for the doll, he was smiling happily. It looked like a screw was loose, but it didn't seem all that bad.
“These are the most popular dolls.”
A thrilled clerk brought out two teddy bears. This one was for a daughter, the other for a son. Even Bjorn, who had no prior knowledge of such things, recognized them immediately.
“Do you think it’s a son? Or a daughter?”
The onlookers who had followed the Prince began to become agitated by the question posed by the clerk.
Son! Daughter!
The voices of each person shouting their wishes were mixed together in a jumble.
Twins!
Someone's desperate cry made Bjorn chuckle. It seemed impossible that two children could grow inside that small woman.
He guesses it doesn't matter either way, but what about Erna?
Bjorn took the doll the clerk handed him and examined it carefully.
Who will the child resemble?
Congratulations. You're about to become a father. The full meaning of that greeting finally dawned on him. He had a feeling their dinner table conversation tonight would be quite lengthy.
In the end, Bjorn bought both dolls. Surely she wouldn't be afraid of such an excessive gift.
***
“I apologize, Your Majesty.”
The attending doctor bowed his head and apologized in a somber voice. The doctors and nurses who followed him also did the same. Isabelle Dniester, who had been pacing anxiously in the reception room, let out a quiet sigh and closed her eyes.
When she rushed to Erna after hearing that she was bleeding, the situation had already deteriorated beyond control. The Grand Duchess was already extremely weak, and the bleeding was severe.
“Would it be difficult even if you try your best?”
The doctor's face darkened even more at the foolish question she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“What about Björn? Is he still there?”
Isabel Dniester, who had been rubbing her throbbing forehead, turned her gaze to look at Mrs. Fitz.
"I sent someone to the bank, but they said he's already left. Perhaps he got lost."
“Why at a time like this!”
“I’m looking for all the places the Prince might go, so he’ll be back soon.”
Mrs. Fitz bowed her head, feeling guilty.
She bitterly regretted not being able to stop Bjorn from going out. His presence wouldn't have made a difference, but it would have been a great comfort to the Archduchess, desperately searching for her husband.
“Now you have to make a decision.”
The attending doctor, who had regained the look of a prestigious doctor, urged her on.
“If we continue like this, the meaningless suffering will only continue, Your Majesty.”
Isabelle Dniester's complexion darkened even further as she understood what he was asking. Beyond the half-open bedroom door, the Grand Duchess's cries for her husband still drifted.
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