97. So you too endure
Erna, who had been dozing off, opened her eyes wide at the sound of a knock. The brush she'd dropped rolled under the desk. It had been stained with red dye, leaving an ugly stain on the carpet.
"Yes," Erna replied hurriedly, clutching a scrap of cloth. As she crouched on the carpet, wiping the stain, the door opened, and Lisa came in.
“Let it be, Your Highness!”
Lisa, with a startled expression, ran over and helped Erna up. Her hands were firm as she snatched the dye-soaked piece of cloth away.
“Why are you doing the maids’ work yourself?”
“It’s my fault. I dozed off again...”
"The weather's getting warmer. When people are tired, they might feel a little sleepy, you know."
Lisa waved her hand as if it were no big deal.
There was a lot of talk going around about Erna, who had been sleeping a lot lately. The cause of the trouble was a recent opera performance where she was seen dozing off.
Of course, it was a mistake, but it didn't deserve such harsh criticism. Nevertheless, the magnates, as if they were treating the Grand Duchess like an untouchable barbarian, were constantly taunting her, comparing her to Gladys, a lady of unparalleled dignity and grace. After rumors began circulating about the Princess's deteriorating health, the criticism directed at Erna seemed to intensify.
"It's all because you're too diligent. Your body can't handle it when you overwork yourself like that. You should rest when you have time, but what are these people talking about?"
Lisa frowned and examined her desk. Flower materials and tools were scattered about in disarray.
“Ah. I was thinking about giving summer flowers as a gift to the people of the Grand Duke’s residence.”
Erna answered with a cool smile.
“I think everyone liked the artificial flowers I gave them as gifts last time.”
“But why does Your Highness go through all this trouble?”
Even so, it's of no use anyway.
Although he couldn't bring himself to say those words, Erna smiled as if she already knew.
Lisa felt like rattling off the names of the maids who, even after munching on her gifts, still badmouthed the Grand Duchess, but she held back. She understood Erna's desire to do something about it. Still, compared to the beginning, there were more people on the Grand Duchess's side. Even so, this was a world confined to the walls of Schwerin Palace.
“Oh, Your Highness. Let’s do this later and go look at the presents, shall we?”
"Gift?"
“Yes! The items the Prince bought at the fair have just arrived.”
Lisa, who had momentarily forgotten about her business, urged Erna on with a beaming face.
“If you see it, you’ll be really surprised, right?”
It was his little wife who woke up Bjorn, who had bravely endured the energetic madmen.
“Bjorn! Bjorn!”
Erna burst open the bedroom door and rushed over, calling out to him as if she was out of breath. Her desperate cries drowned out the shouts of the young men practicing rowing.
“Wake up! Bjorn!”
Erna sat up on the bed and began to shake his shoulders vigorously.
Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Bjorn opened his eyes with a long sigh. The previous night's poker game had dragged on, and he hadn't returned home until sunrise. Therefore, it was the middle of the night for him. This was by no means a pleasant time to be waking up, but Erna's face showed no room for such thoughts.
"The fairgrounds are pouring into the mansion. They're all things you bought."
"...I know."
Bjorn, as if to say, "Was that all?", spat out angrily and pulled the sheet wrapped around his body up to his head. But Erna didn't back down meekly.
“Let’s talk, Bjorn. Please.”
“What conversation.”
“There are gifts... too many gifts.”
Erna sobbed. Her voice wasn't one of joy.
Bjorn sat up, feeling as if he'd been doused with cold water. His eyes, still drenched in sleep, caught sight of Erna's thoughtful face. It was a far cry from what he'd expected.
“I’m sorry for bothering you.”
Erna, who had been observing with bated breath, hesitated and apologized.
"But I can't keep them all, so I'd like you to send back the ones I don't need. Please do so. Yes?"
"Why."
Erna's eyes wavered at the question he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“People..”
“People, Erna.”
Bjorn closed his eyes, as if suppressing the surging anger. With each deep breath he took, his prominent throat twitched with each slow exhalation.
“No matter what you do, people will think and say whatever they want to believe.”
When he faced Erna again, his eyes held the same cold, cold air. He didn't like how Erna had been increasingly concerned about her reputation lately. Nor did he appreciate the futile effort she'd put into her work.
“I know, but there’s no need to make excuses.”
Erna, who had been lost in thought for a moment, retorted with a still frightened expression on her face.
Excuses.
Erna, who had been dozing off, opened her eyes wide at the sound of a knock. The brush she'd dropped rolled under the desk. It had been stained with red dye, leaving an ugly stain on the carpet.
"Yes," Erna replied hurriedly, clutching a scrap of cloth. As she crouched on the carpet, wiping the stain, the door opened, and Lisa came in.
“Let it be, Your Highness!”
Lisa, with a startled expression, ran over and helped Erna up. Her hands were firm as she snatched the dye-soaked piece of cloth away.
“Why are you doing the maids’ work yourself?”
“It’s my fault. I dozed off again...”
"The weather's getting warmer. When people are tired, they might feel a little sleepy, you know."
Lisa waved her hand as if it were no big deal.
There was a lot of talk going around about Erna, who had been sleeping a lot lately. The cause of the trouble was a recent opera performance where she was seen dozing off.
Of course, it was a mistake, but it didn't deserve such harsh criticism. Nevertheless, the magnates, as if they were treating the Grand Duchess like an untouchable barbarian, were constantly taunting her, comparing her to Gladys, a lady of unparalleled dignity and grace. After rumors began circulating about the Princess's deteriorating health, the criticism directed at Erna seemed to intensify.
"It's all because you're too diligent. Your body can't handle it when you overwork yourself like that. You should rest when you have time, but what are these people talking about?"
Lisa frowned and examined her desk. Flower materials and tools were scattered about in disarray.
“Ah. I was thinking about giving summer flowers as a gift to the people of the Grand Duke’s residence.”
Erna answered with a cool smile.
“I think everyone liked the artificial flowers I gave them as gifts last time.”
“But why does Your Highness go through all this trouble?”
Even so, it's of no use anyway.
Although he couldn't bring himself to say those words, Erna smiled as if she already knew.
Lisa felt like rattling off the names of the maids who, even after munching on her gifts, still badmouthed the Grand Duchess, but she held back. She understood Erna's desire to do something about it. Still, compared to the beginning, there were more people on the Grand Duchess's side. Even so, this was a world confined to the walls of Schwerin Palace.
“Oh, Your Highness. Let’s do this later and go look at the presents, shall we?”
"Gift?"
“Yes! The items the Prince bought at the fair have just arrived.”
Lisa, who had momentarily forgotten about her business, urged Erna on with a beaming face.
“If you see it, you’ll be really surprised, right?”
***
It was his little wife who woke up Bjorn, who had bravely endured the energetic madmen.
“Bjorn! Bjorn!”
Erna burst open the bedroom door and rushed over, calling out to him as if she was out of breath. Her desperate cries drowned out the shouts of the young men practicing rowing.
“Wake up! Bjorn!”
Erna sat up on the bed and began to shake his shoulders vigorously.
Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Bjorn opened his eyes with a long sigh. The previous night's poker game had dragged on, and he hadn't returned home until sunrise. Therefore, it was the middle of the night for him. This was by no means a pleasant time to be waking up, but Erna's face showed no room for such thoughts.
"The fairgrounds are pouring into the mansion. They're all things you bought."
"...I know."
Bjorn, as if to say, "Was that all?", spat out angrily and pulled the sheet wrapped around his body up to his head. But Erna didn't back down meekly.
“Let’s talk, Bjorn. Please.”
“What conversation.”
“There are gifts... too many gifts.”
Erna sobbed. Her voice wasn't one of joy.
Bjorn sat up, feeling as if he'd been doused with cold water. His eyes, still drenched in sleep, caught sight of Erna's thoughtful face. It was a far cry from what he'd expected.
“I’m sorry for bothering you.”
Erna, who had been observing with bated breath, hesitated and apologized.
"But I can't keep them all, so I'd like you to send back the ones I don't need. Please do so. Yes?"
"Why."
Erna's eyes wavered at the question he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“People..”
“People, Erna.”
Bjorn closed his eyes, as if suppressing the surging anger. With each deep breath he took, his prominent throat twitched with each slow exhalation.
“No matter what you do, people will think and say whatever they want to believe.”
When he faced Erna again, his eyes held the same cold, cold air. He didn't like how Erna had been increasingly concerned about her reputation lately. Nor did he appreciate the futile effort she'd put into her work.
“I know, but there’s no need to make excuses.”
Erna, who had been lost in thought for a moment, retorted with a still frightened expression on her face.
Excuses.
A hollow laugh escaped Bjorn's lips as he chewed on the word, a stain that stained his mood. Considering the money it cost to buy them, well, it felt a bit unfair to be treated like this.
It would be nice to just be happy once in a while, but this woman is always like this. No matter what he gives her, she's nervous. She's always scared and anxious to see what others think. He understands why, but that makes her even more irritating.
“So, are you going to just stay still as if you were dead, just breathe and live?”
Bjorn cupped Erna's face, who was sitting in front of him, with his hand, which was running through his messy hair.
“Even if you do, people will still gossip about you. They’ll use the excuse that you’re an incompetent Grand Duchess who does nothing.”
Erna looked as if she had been hurt again, but Bjorn didn't care.
This was the life of the Grand Duchess of Schwerin.
Even if any woman other than Erna had sat in this seat, the situation wouldn't have been much different. Bjorn Dneister's second wife was a character with a reputation for being a villain.
She was the woman he had chosen to take on that role, and he had paid a price for it. Erna, therefore, had a duty to endure this life. As much as Bjorn found it ridiculous to constantly revisit such a clear-cut calculation, he loathed his wife's foolishness.
"So, Erna, don't be so attached. The more you worry, the more persistent and cruel people become. Whatever they say, just live your life. That's all that matters."
“Is that how you are?”
Erna's voice trembled slightly as she asked the question seriously.
Her head knew it well. Bjorn was right, and so she just had to steel herself and live her life. But detaching herself from all of that wasn't as easy as she thought. She tried not to listen, but she could hear it, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. This was especially true when she thought of the articles she had been collecting in her grandmother's dresser.
“Yes, Erna.”
Bjorn, who had been looking at her with silent eyes, nodded.
“I do.”
The tone was extremely light, but there was no doubt that it was Bjorn's sincerity. He was remarkably indifferent to all the accusations and speculations he was subjected to. He was completely indifferent, as if the life others so carelessly denounced didn't belong to him.
Erna, whose lips had been quivering, finally lowered her head, unable to utter a word. As if displeased, Bjorn gripped her face with his hand and forced her gaze up.
“So you too, endure it.”
Even at the moment of issuing a cruel order, Bjorn's hand caressing her cheek was gentle.
“It’s the life you chose.”
Her gray eyes were beautiful, shining like delicately crafted jewels.
A luxurious Grand Duchess who doesn't know the subject.
A sharp, harsh condemnation and scorn flashed through his eyes, ready to erupt throughout the city tomorrow. It was unfair, but this time, she couldn't blame everyone. The items Bjorn had purchased were enough to astonish even the calm Mrs. Fitz.
It would be no exaggeration to say that everything Erna had ever seen at the fair had been brought to this mansion. It included magnificent exotic carpets and lace, porcelain, oriental furniture, and even a typewriter and a sculpture of an elephant larger than a man.
"...sorry."
Erna apologized with a certain amount of resignation.
“And thank you.”
The greeting, added carefully, was undoubtedly sincere.
Only then did Bjorn let go of her face, chuckling. The cheers of the rowers coming from beyond the window were filled with the heat of the summer sun.
“Those crazy kids.”
Bjorn shook his head and climbed out of bed. Erna, who had been blankly staring at his body bathed in white sunlight, belatedly averted her gaze in embarrassment.
Bjorn, who seemed to find it amusing, put on his robe and headed toward the window overlooking the river. Just as he sat down on the windowsill, a cigar between his lips, Erna approached.
“But Bjorn, why on earth did you buy that huge elephant sculpture?”
“An elephant? Did something like that come?”
A furrow formed between Bjorn's brows. It was clear he didn't even know what he had bought.
While Erna was in a state of confusion, unsure of how to accept such a gift, her butler, Greg, came in. He hesitated to speak, glancing over at Erna. His face was visibly embarrassed.
“Tell me, Greg.”
Bjorn commanded, pulling Erna into his arms as she tried to retreat. The cigar hanging loosely between his fingers swayed in the shadows of the curtains.
“Ah... yes, Your Highness.”
He examined Erna once more and handed him the file containing the report without saying anything. Bjorn began to slowly read through it, his eyes narrowed.
“Is something going on?”
Erna, who had been carefully observing his expression, asked a concerned question. The butler coughed a few times and then deftly avoided eye contact.
"...No."
Bjorn, who had just closed the file, responded calmly. Greg exchanged a brief glance with him, then left the bedroom with the returned report in his hand.
“It’s nothing.”
Bjorn faced his wife with a calm smile on his face.
“You looked so grumpy. Are you really okay?”
Even though she had never seen her father's name, Erna looked suspicious.
Bjørn set down his cigar as if casting aside lingering regret, then lifted his wife, consumed by maternal anxiety, onto his lap. When their lips met, she flinched, and her shoulders trembled, but as always, Erna did not refuse him.
It's okay.
Every time their lips parted for a moment, Bjorn whispered something sweetly.
It wasn't a lie.
Walter Hardy's greed was still within his control, and soon it would be brought under control. Of course, the process would be somewhat tedious and messy.
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