137. This is me
“I want to try dating.”
Even when he was acting like a city thug, the smile that lingered on Bjorn's lips was extremely elegant.
Erna, speechless, stared at him with frowning eyes. Bjorn looked down at her with a natural, innocent expression.
“You like that.”
"...No."
"Lie."
“I don’t want it anymore. The Prince, love, and these almonds, everything!”
“Oh. You’ve become quite fierce and childish since I last saw you.”
Even as Erna sharply retorted, Bjorn continued to make witty jokes. The carousel musicians began to play a lively polka. It was music that brought to mind the miraculous spring of last year in Burford.
Erna held her head upright, trying to calm her anger. Her hand, gripping the paper bag of almonds, tightened.
She just doesn't understand this man. He forgets everything so easily, so why does he bother remembering such trivial things now, when everything else has become meaningless?
"Yes. I am such a fierce and childish woman. The woman you knew isn't here, so please stop making such ridiculous excuses and end this marriage."
"No."
“Why?”
“I like you now much more than the woman I knew.”
Bjorn bent down, arms loosely folded. His ash-gray eyes, meeting hers without wavering, filled with Erna's face.
"It's much prettier when you don't act so stuffy. It's thrilling and exciting. Why didn't you do this earlier?"
“What did you say?”
“I’ve fallen in love again, so let’s date.”
Bjorn's lips curved gently. The smile, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, was captivating, unlike his vulgar, teasing words. Erna's astonished sigh rose like a white puff of breath.
“I tell you again, all I want from you is a divorce.”
“Really? Then I guess I’ll have to be more persuasive.”
Bjorn nodded without looking too disheartened.
“No, don’t do it.”
“It’s my heart. If you don’t date me, I won’t be able to love you.”
“I hate that you like me too!”
“Look here, wife. Who gets permission to have a crush? So you got my permission to have a crush?”
Bjorn snorted in amusement.
“You have nothing to say?”
Bjorn's head tilted crookedly as he looked at Erna. He looked confident and arrogant, uncharacteristic of someone who had just spoken of his unrequited love.
Unable to find a suitable answer, Erna turned away with her lips tightly shut. It was a remark that, while quite irritating, was difficult to refute. After all, unrequited love is inherently like that. Of course, the man's attitude seemed closer to debt collection than courtship.
Erna handed Lisa the bag of almonds she was clutching and began to walk across the square, her voice trailing off. Bjorn's leisurely footsteps could be heard amidst the bustling noise of the open-air market. There was absolutely nothing about him that appealed to her.
Erna walked toward the carriage with a light gait, as if she were a child. The short winter sun was setting, and the sky was already turning a clear darkness.
As Lisa, who had been chattering away, fell asleep, the carriage fell into a deep silence.
Bjorn turned his gaze, which had been fixed on the window, to look at Erna. The light from the lantern, swaying along the rattling carriage, illuminated her small, thoughtful face.
“Why didn’t you ask?”
Bjorn, who had been staring blankly at her profile, asked an impulsive question. Erna looked up, startled.
"I came to check on your talented artist friend."
Erna let out a soft sigh at the calm words he added.
“Because I know that there will be no unpleasant incidents like the one I was worried about.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
A faint smile lingered in Bjorn's voice. His eyes flickered slightly, but Erna didn't avoid his gaze.
“If that were the case, the Prince wouldn’t have made such a joke to me with that face.”
“You trust me so much. I’m starting to feel a little touched.”
“I was just stating objective facts.”
Erna regretted giving such a harsh answer, but she didn't bother correcting it. That would have been the very thing that would have gotten her caught up in this man's tricks.
The two stared at each other silently, Lisa nodding between them. As they drew closer to the Baden mansion, the darkness outside the car window deepened.
“I apologized.”
A smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he said something unexpected.
"What happened at the Heine family outing? I apologized and apologized to Pavel Lore."
"...Yes."
Erna sat up straight, as if shaking off the strange tension.
"Don't ever do that to Pavel again. Whatever the Prince thinks, Pavel and I are just friends, and now..."
"Whatever you say, Erna, I'll always hate that angry brat."
Bjorn cut Erna off with a blatant, almost brazen, quip. The carriage rattled and shook violently as it passed along the gravel road.
“Actually, I’m quite jealous.”
Words that seemed unlikely to come from Bjorn Dneister's mouth were whispered in a gentle voice.
"Rational judgment and jealousy are two separate things, so what can I do? If you're worried about that painter, don't even look at him. It would be even better if you didn't even mention his name."
“Jealousy? Are you saying that the Prince is jealous of Pavel?”
“You didn’t know? Then you should know now.”
Even when confronted by Erna's astonishment, Bjorn didn't even raise an eyebrow. His brazen attitude only inflamed Erna's rage, which she had been trying to suppress.
"Why are you doing this to me? You're not that kind of man."
“A man like this?”
Bjorn's questioning voice dropped to a low note. Erna's eyes, staring intently at him, sparkled with clear question.
"Well."
Bjorn smiled with a slightly disappointed feeling.
A punk stuck deep in the countryside, struggling to win back his wife's heart after she announced her divorce. Reflecting on his current situation, he felt that he could understand Erna. After all, it was something he'd never even imagined.
“The Prince you loved is not here either, Erna.”
Bjorn whispered softly, as if sighing. It was a truth he never wanted to admit, but now that he had said it out loud, it felt incredibly trivial.
A fairytale Prince who saved a country girl in distress. This woman's all-powerful god. That facade, which was already a lie, was now irrelevant.
“This is me.”
Bjorn lowered his gaze from the star-filled night sky of Burford and faced Erna again.
“I want to start over again as this person.”
His gaze as he looked straight at Erna was deep and calm, like the night in Burford.
The throne built on illusions has collapsed.
Now he felt like he could accept that fact. Only then did he finally see his true longing.
What Bjorn wanted was Erna. Not Erna's love, but Erna. A chance to love Erna.
As they turned off the larch-lined road, a lonely house with its lights on began to appear.
Just as Erna, who had been blankly staring at him, parted her lips, the maid, who had been nodding as if in greeting, suddenly opened her eyes. Startled, Erna hurriedly turned her head toward the car window.
“We’re already here!”
Lisa, rubbing her eyes vigorously to ward off the sleepiness, resumed her ramblings with a relieved expression. She was talking about the menu for dinner tonight, the new flower arrangements ordered from the grocery store, and even that damned calf, when the carriage pulled into Baden's mansion.
I have to cut her.
Bjorn looked at the warm light streaming through the windows of the old mansion and made a promise.
I have to cut her off no matter what.
“What should I do, ma’am?”
Madame Greve's face was filled with worry as she faced Baroness Baden.
It had already been nearly two weeks since the Prince had settled down at Baden mansion. Surely he would return tomorrow. Or perhaps the day after. As he ruminates on these futile hopes, Erna's birthday draws nearer.
“If the Prince doesn’t return by then...”
“I won’t go back.”
Before Mrs. Greve could finish speaking, a young man's voice was heard.
She turned her head in surprise, then abruptly stood up, her face visibly suffocating. Prince Bjorn, who had appeared at some unknown time, was standing at the entrance to the drawing room.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
"It's okay."
Bjorn approached with a calm face.
“Don’t mind the uninvited guests.”
“That’s not what I meant...”
"I hope my wife has a happy birthday. Of course, it won't be easy since I'm here."
Mrs. Greve's face turned thoughtful at Bjorn's joke.
She was at a loss, flustered, and as soon as Baroness Baden gave her permission to leave, she turned around. Erna's old nanny, who had never forgotten to make the sign of the cross, made Bjorn laugh. It felt as if he were being treated like a demon.
As the drawing room door closed, Baroness Baden put down the sewing she was holding. Bjorn bowed formally and took the seat opposite her.
“I guess you were just about to go horseback riding.”
Baroness Baden, pushing up the round magnifying glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, spoke first. Her gaze, examining his riding boots and red jacket, then rested on Bjorn's face.
“Yes, Baroness.”
When their eyes met, the Prince smiled. Unlike his cool, ash-colored eyes, the smile on his lips was perfectly gentle. The formal conversation that followed was no different.
Baroness Baden gazed serenely at the young, beautiful Prince. She could understand what it was about this man, so affectionate without any sincerity, that captivated and wounded Erna.
“It seems like things are still cold between you and Erna.”
Baroness Baden stopped the Prince from standing with a sharp remark. For the first time, something that could be called emotion appeared in the Prince's eyes, which had been silent for so long.
“Yes. It’s not easy.”
Bjorn nodded and smiled.
Baroness Baden looked at him with a thoughtful gaze. She felt both resentful and sorry. Even if his methods were wrong, she knew full well that the Prince was in love with Erna.
"I'll have him arrange a place for the Grand Duke at that child's birthday dinner table. I can't guarantee Erna will accept it readily, though."
Baroness Baden, having calmly expressed her intentions, resumed her sewing machine. Bjorn bowed politely and then stood up.
“Yes. Erna must be in the stable right now, since she went out with the maid to look after the calf.”
Baroness Baden put down her threaded needle and rang the bell. Soon after, a maid entered the drawing room.
“I have an urgent errand to run, so go to the stable and fetch Lisa for me.”
Baroness Baden glanced at Bjorn, then diligently worked her needle to piece together the quilt.
“Your Highness, go and do your business.”
That was all the questionable old woman had to say.
“I want to try dating.”
Even when he was acting like a city thug, the smile that lingered on Bjorn's lips was extremely elegant.
Erna, speechless, stared at him with frowning eyes. Bjorn looked down at her with a natural, innocent expression.
“You like that.”
"...No."
"Lie."
“I don’t want it anymore. The Prince, love, and these almonds, everything!”
“Oh. You’ve become quite fierce and childish since I last saw you.”
Even as Erna sharply retorted, Bjorn continued to make witty jokes. The carousel musicians began to play a lively polka. It was music that brought to mind the miraculous spring of last year in Burford.
Erna held her head upright, trying to calm her anger. Her hand, gripping the paper bag of almonds, tightened.
She just doesn't understand this man. He forgets everything so easily, so why does he bother remembering such trivial things now, when everything else has become meaningless?
"Yes. I am such a fierce and childish woman. The woman you knew isn't here, so please stop making such ridiculous excuses and end this marriage."
"No."
“Why?”
“I like you now much more than the woman I knew.”
Bjorn bent down, arms loosely folded. His ash-gray eyes, meeting hers without wavering, filled with Erna's face.
"It's much prettier when you don't act so stuffy. It's thrilling and exciting. Why didn't you do this earlier?"
“What did you say?”
“I’ve fallen in love again, so let’s date.”
Bjorn's lips curved gently. The smile, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, was captivating, unlike his vulgar, teasing words. Erna's astonished sigh rose like a white puff of breath.
“I tell you again, all I want from you is a divorce.”
“Really? Then I guess I’ll have to be more persuasive.”
Bjorn nodded without looking too disheartened.
“No, don’t do it.”
“It’s my heart. If you don’t date me, I won’t be able to love you.”
“I hate that you like me too!”
“Look here, wife. Who gets permission to have a crush? So you got my permission to have a crush?”
Bjorn snorted in amusement.
“You have nothing to say?”
Bjorn's head tilted crookedly as he looked at Erna. He looked confident and arrogant, uncharacteristic of someone who had just spoken of his unrequited love.
Unable to find a suitable answer, Erna turned away with her lips tightly shut. It was a remark that, while quite irritating, was difficult to refute. After all, unrequited love is inherently like that. Of course, the man's attitude seemed closer to debt collection than courtship.
Erna handed Lisa the bag of almonds she was clutching and began to walk across the square, her voice trailing off. Bjorn's leisurely footsteps could be heard amidst the bustling noise of the open-air market. There was absolutely nothing about him that appealed to her.
Erna walked toward the carriage with a light gait, as if she were a child. The short winter sun was setting, and the sky was already turning a clear darkness.
***
As Lisa, who had been chattering away, fell asleep, the carriage fell into a deep silence.
Bjorn turned his gaze, which had been fixed on the window, to look at Erna. The light from the lantern, swaying along the rattling carriage, illuminated her small, thoughtful face.
“Why didn’t you ask?”
Bjorn, who had been staring blankly at her profile, asked an impulsive question. Erna looked up, startled.
"I came to check on your talented artist friend."
Erna let out a soft sigh at the calm words he added.
“Because I know that there will be no unpleasant incidents like the one I was worried about.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
A faint smile lingered in Bjorn's voice. His eyes flickered slightly, but Erna didn't avoid his gaze.
“If that were the case, the Prince wouldn’t have made such a joke to me with that face.”
“You trust me so much. I’m starting to feel a little touched.”
“I was just stating objective facts.”
Erna regretted giving such a harsh answer, but she didn't bother correcting it. That would have been the very thing that would have gotten her caught up in this man's tricks.
The two stared at each other silently, Lisa nodding between them. As they drew closer to the Baden mansion, the darkness outside the car window deepened.
“I apologized.”
A smile appeared on Bjorn's lips as he said something unexpected.
"What happened at the Heine family outing? I apologized and apologized to Pavel Lore."
"...Yes."
Erna sat up straight, as if shaking off the strange tension.
"Don't ever do that to Pavel again. Whatever the Prince thinks, Pavel and I are just friends, and now..."
"Whatever you say, Erna, I'll always hate that angry brat."
Bjorn cut Erna off with a blatant, almost brazen, quip. The carriage rattled and shook violently as it passed along the gravel road.
“Actually, I’m quite jealous.”
Words that seemed unlikely to come from Bjorn Dneister's mouth were whispered in a gentle voice.
"Rational judgment and jealousy are two separate things, so what can I do? If you're worried about that painter, don't even look at him. It would be even better if you didn't even mention his name."
“Jealousy? Are you saying that the Prince is jealous of Pavel?”
“You didn’t know? Then you should know now.”
Even when confronted by Erna's astonishment, Bjorn didn't even raise an eyebrow. His brazen attitude only inflamed Erna's rage, which she had been trying to suppress.
"Why are you doing this to me? You're not that kind of man."
“A man like this?”
Bjorn's questioning voice dropped to a low note. Erna's eyes, staring intently at him, sparkled with clear question.
"Well."
Bjorn smiled with a slightly disappointed feeling.
A punk stuck deep in the countryside, struggling to win back his wife's heart after she announced her divorce. Reflecting on his current situation, he felt that he could understand Erna. After all, it was something he'd never even imagined.
“The Prince you loved is not here either, Erna.”
Bjorn whispered softly, as if sighing. It was a truth he never wanted to admit, but now that he had said it out loud, it felt incredibly trivial.
A fairytale Prince who saved a country girl in distress. This woman's all-powerful god. That facade, which was already a lie, was now irrelevant.
“This is me.”
Bjorn lowered his gaze from the star-filled night sky of Burford and faced Erna again.
“I want to start over again as this person.”
His gaze as he looked straight at Erna was deep and calm, like the night in Burford.
The throne built on illusions has collapsed.
Now he felt like he could accept that fact. Only then did he finally see his true longing.
What Bjorn wanted was Erna. Not Erna's love, but Erna. A chance to love Erna.
As they turned off the larch-lined road, a lonely house with its lights on began to appear.
Just as Erna, who had been blankly staring at him, parted her lips, the maid, who had been nodding as if in greeting, suddenly opened her eyes. Startled, Erna hurriedly turned her head toward the car window.
“We’re already here!”
Lisa, rubbing her eyes vigorously to ward off the sleepiness, resumed her ramblings with a relieved expression. She was talking about the menu for dinner tonight, the new flower arrangements ordered from the grocery store, and even that damned calf, when the carriage pulled into Baden's mansion.
I have to cut her.
Bjorn looked at the warm light streaming through the windows of the old mansion and made a promise.
I have to cut her off no matter what.
***
“What should I do, ma’am?”
Madame Greve's face was filled with worry as she faced Baroness Baden.
It had already been nearly two weeks since the Prince had settled down at Baden mansion. Surely he would return tomorrow. Or perhaps the day after. As he ruminates on these futile hopes, Erna's birthday draws nearer.
“If the Prince doesn’t return by then...”
“I won’t go back.”
Before Mrs. Greve could finish speaking, a young man's voice was heard.
She turned her head in surprise, then abruptly stood up, her face visibly suffocating. Prince Bjorn, who had appeared at some unknown time, was standing at the entrance to the drawing room.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
"It's okay."
Bjorn approached with a calm face.
“Don’t mind the uninvited guests.”
“That’s not what I meant...”
"I hope my wife has a happy birthday. Of course, it won't be easy since I'm here."
Mrs. Greve's face turned thoughtful at Bjorn's joke.
She was at a loss, flustered, and as soon as Baroness Baden gave her permission to leave, she turned around. Erna's old nanny, who had never forgotten to make the sign of the cross, made Bjorn laugh. It felt as if he were being treated like a demon.
As the drawing room door closed, Baroness Baden put down the sewing she was holding. Bjorn bowed formally and took the seat opposite her.
“I guess you were just about to go horseback riding.”
Baroness Baden, pushing up the round magnifying glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, spoke first. Her gaze, examining his riding boots and red jacket, then rested on Bjorn's face.
“Yes, Baroness.”
When their eyes met, the Prince smiled. Unlike his cool, ash-colored eyes, the smile on his lips was perfectly gentle. The formal conversation that followed was no different.
Baroness Baden gazed serenely at the young, beautiful Prince. She could understand what it was about this man, so affectionate without any sincerity, that captivated and wounded Erna.
“It seems like things are still cold between you and Erna.”
Baroness Baden stopped the Prince from standing with a sharp remark. For the first time, something that could be called emotion appeared in the Prince's eyes, which had been silent for so long.
“Yes. It’s not easy.”
Bjorn nodded and smiled.
Baroness Baden looked at him with a thoughtful gaze. She felt both resentful and sorry. Even if his methods were wrong, she knew full well that the Prince was in love with Erna.
"I'll have him arrange a place for the Grand Duke at that child's birthday dinner table. I can't guarantee Erna will accept it readily, though."
Baroness Baden, having calmly expressed her intentions, resumed her sewing machine. Bjorn bowed politely and then stood up.
“Yes. Erna must be in the stable right now, since she went out with the maid to look after the calf.”
Baroness Baden put down her threaded needle and rang the bell. Soon after, a maid entered the drawing room.
“I have an urgent errand to run, so go to the stable and fetch Lisa for me.”
Baroness Baden glanced at Bjorn, then diligently worked her needle to piece together the quilt.
“Your Highness, go and do your business.”
That was all the questionable old woman had to say.
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