98. Poor and lovely child
“I’m sorry. That’s all we have to say.”
Despite his polite demeanor, the clerk's expression was stern. Walter Hardy stared at him with disbelief.
This was the bank owned by Bjorn Dneister, the father of the Prince's wife, Princess Letzen. But now this man was rejecting him. He dared not lend the Prince's father-in-law a meager loan.
“Hey, you. Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Yes, Viscount Hardy. I know very well.”
“There seems to be some kind of mistake...”
"It was a decision of the board of directors. The meeting was presided over by Prince Bjorn himself."
He cut through Walter Hardy's rebuttal with a gentle explanation.
"There's no solid collateral, the submitted documentation is insufficient, and above all, it's been unanimously concluded that the project is unprofitable. So, there's nothing else we can do."
"Collateral? While you're living with my daughter. What, collateral?"
Walter Hardy's face flushed with insult.
Just last week, those who had been trying to please the Prince's father-in-law suddenly changed their tune. The fact that it was that damn prince who had thrown cold water on what had been a smooth process made him even more astonished.
This little bit of money, something he could have given a hundred times over for nothing, was so petty. Suddenly, anger surged toward Erna. How could she have ridiculed her father? No. Perhaps the Prince had already lost interest in his second wife. Considering the Grand Duchess's reputation, that was a more plausible assumption. And with no news of the child yet, it was no wonder the prodigal's heart had strayed.
"Sorry."
Walter Hardy suppressed the urge to punch the man in the face for repeating his mechanical words and left the VIP room of the Freire Bank. As he boarded the carriage waiting in front of the building, a torrent of curses erupted from his lips.
The debt Erna had incurred as a result of his fraud was repaid by the Prince, who had married her. He even provided enough support to maintain the dignity of the Princess's family, so it was not a small favor.
But that was only the bare minimum. It was still a far cry from the Hardy family's heyday. No matter how he looked at it, the Prince seemed unwilling to extend such leniency, so Walter Hardy was determined to rebuild on his own. While he needed the fame of Bjorn Dneister and a small amount of money, this was hardly enough to warrant assistance. He hadn't demanded it for free; he had formally offered to borrow it.
And yet, he is causing such shame.
Walter Hardy chewed his lip nervously. Just as he began to feel anxious that his second wife's term might not be long, the carriage arrived in front of the mansion. Walter Hardy walked with a hurried gait toward his wife's bedroom.
"Brenda, what about that medicine? You haven't given it to Erna yet, have you?"
Brenda Hardy let out a long sigh at the question he asked as he suddenly opened the door without knocking.
"How can I convey it when she doesn't even pretend to hear? Anyway, that kid is really annoying."
"She's just like her mother, foolish as hell. She's definitely a descendant of the Baden family, weak and unable to bear a single child."
Brenda Hardy flinched at the words, which could almost be called hatred. Still, these were not the words a father should speak to his daughter. Considering Baroness Baden, who miraculously managed to conceive a daughter after a dozen years of marriage, and Annette Baden, who suffered a string of miscarriages after the difficult birth of her first child, it was clear that the women in that family lacked the gift of childbearing.
“There isn’t much time left.”
“Why? Is Bjorn Dneister cheating again?”
"Not yet, but if Erna continues like this, it won't be long. Given the Prince's attitude, it wouldn't be surprising if she were kicked out of the Grand Duchess position before the cold wind even blew."
“No way.”
"Just think about what he did to Princess Gladys. So, we need to get this over with before then. What are we going to do? I'm already promised dividends to the investors. I even boasted that the prince would make up the shortfall!"
Walter Hardy's anxious, pacing footsteps echoed through the bedroom. Brenda Hardy, who had been quietly watching her husband, pulled out a box from deep within the closet with a determined expression on her face.
“What is all this?”
Walter Hardy's eyes widened when he saw the jewels inside.
“It’s my hobby.”
Brenda Hardy lowered her voice with a sly smile.
"Even though the Grand Duchess is a social outcast, she's quite popular with the nouveau riche who can't get into this world. They're so desperate to connect with her that they'll even shower me with expensive gifts."
“But selling this isn’t going to solve the problem, Brenda.”
“Then we just need to collect more.”
Brenda Hardy's eyes sparkled with joy as she shrugged her shoulders.
"There's a merchant with the most talent. Would you like to meet him? He may be of humble origins, but his wealth rivals that of any noble family in the capital."
Walter Hardy is sincere.
It was one of the few virtues he's recently discovered about himself. The problem, though, was that his sincerity was only applied to useless things.
Bjorn laughed and got up from the bathtub.
Most of Walter Hardy's poorly executed business plans have failed in their initial stages, thanks to Greg's diligent work under his direction.
But the problem was that Walter Hardy was several times more conscientious. Moreover, his obsession was remarkable. In some ways, he was truly remarkable, almost to the point of awe, similar to the feeling he had for Gladys Hartford.
The ambitious plan he finally succeeded in bringing to fruition and even brought to the bank was to acquire a failing commercial cooperative and convert it into a joint-stock company. It was a much easier and simpler method than registering a joint-stock company from the beginning, so it was a considerable investment of brainpower. Even when he saw the falsified financial statements, he was genuinely impressed. From victim of fraud to conman? It was truly a remarkable rise. Of course, the rookie conman's ambitions would soon be dashed.
After giving Greg a few instructions, Bjorn headed to his wife's bedroom. Erna was already asleep again. She was a surprisingly diligent woman, but she'd been sleeping a lot lately.
Bjorn turned off the lamp on the nightstand and lay down beside his wife. It was incredible that such a daughter could be born to such a father. Bjorn, overcome with a newfound amazement, unconsciously stroked the brown hair that lay disheveled on the pillow.
The story of the little girl who stood in the blazing sun all day, trying to erase her father's traces, suddenly came to mind. A pitiful and lovely child who desperately yearned for hair as bright as sunlight, who had learned the secrets of life too early. The image of that child, a child she's never seen before, came to mind vividly. Perhaps it was because the Baroness of Baden's story had been so vivid.
Does this hair resemble Walter Hardy?
The memories he recalled weren't clear. Nothing about him had sunk deep into his memory. Even if they resembled each other, it didn't really matter. Whether her hair was red, blue, or any other color, Erna was still Erna. But it was this beautiful brown hair that suited her best.
Bjorn gently kissed the sweet-smelling hair. The kiss unconsciously spread to her forehead, her cheeks, and the bridge of her nose, where the sun had once burned her skin.
“... Bjorn?”
Just as he kissed her on the lips, Erna slowly opened her eyes. Her water-colored eyes, just waking from sleep, were sensual.
Bjorn gently kissed her parted lips again and naturally climbed on top of his wife. Erna, who had been obediently complying, hesitated and shrugged her shoulders when his hands began to remove her pajamas.
“Bjorn, I’m tired today...”
“You rest.”
“You can’t go there.”
As he sucked the delicate skin on the back of her neck, Erna hurriedly dodged.
“Dress... the dress to wear to the company outing...”
Erna spoke very seriously about why she was losing her mind.
Bjorn, willing to honor her wishes, licked her nape gently, though with a hint of regret. Burying his face in Erna's chest, which was heaving with labored breathing, she let out a faint moan of pain. It was a more sensitive reaction than usual.
"It hurts?"
Erna nodded slightly, her face flushed red at his question. She seemed a little unwell, but he was already past the point where he could stop.
It was a gentle warmth that woke Bjorn, who had been momentarily suspended between overwhelming desire and self-loathing. He raised his gaze and saw Erna, smiling, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Gently.
Bjorn began to move again, repeating the words as if casting a spell. He knew he could ask for as much as he wanted, but he didn't want to. It was ridiculous.
Perhaps because of the slight fever, Erna's insides were much softer and more comfortable than usual. Yet, even though he couldn't move freely, almost to the point of madness, Bjorn cherished this moment. The eyes fixed on him, the smile on her lips as she gasped for breath, the heartbeats of their chests touching—that intimate connection was as pleasurable as it was pleasurable.
When the moment came when rational judgment could no longer intervene, Erna spread her legs a little wider to allow him to move freely.
Bjorn sat up straight, looking down at the woman who had everything he didn't like. As he began to thrust with the force of his suppressed desire, her breasts, like swollen flower buds, swayed wildly. Even her moans, which she couldn't hide even with her lips tightly shut, were beautiful. Perhaps God had created someone like Walter Hardy solely to hold her in his arms. A somewhat pathetic and sentimental thought, mixed with his maddening desire, mingled with his own.
As if clearing his mind of distracting thoughts, Bjorn concentrated solely on this moment. Erna's eyes, shaking violently, were now noticeably red. Even her moaning voice was beginning to show signs of tears.
Even that was good.
Bjorn, who had fallen asleep in the comfort of his perfect wife, suddenly opened his eyes in the deep dawn, well past midnight. The bedroom was filled with the clear darkness characteristic of a summer night.
The dream that had awakened him vanished like smoke the moment he opened his eyes. All that remained was a faint afterimage of a very warm and cozy time.
After staring at the ceiling beyond the darkness for a while, Bjorn turned his head with a hollow laugh. It was then that he realized the seat next to him was empty.
Bjorn frowned and sat up. He looked around the bedroom, but Erna was nowhere to be found.
Erna disappeared.
He knew it was out there somewhere, and he knew it was a completely irrational decision, but he still had a hard time shaking off the overwhelming feeling of anxiety.
Finally, giving up on lying down again, Bjorn climbed out of bed. Only then did he notice the faint light streaming in through the gap between the door connecting the suite's bedroom and the living room.
Bjorn let out a long, self-deprecating sigh and began to walk slowly toward the light.
“I’m sorry. That’s all we have to say.”
Despite his polite demeanor, the clerk's expression was stern. Walter Hardy stared at him with disbelief.
This was the bank owned by Bjorn Dneister, the father of the Prince's wife, Princess Letzen. But now this man was rejecting him. He dared not lend the Prince's father-in-law a meager loan.
“Hey, you. Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Yes, Viscount Hardy. I know very well.”
“There seems to be some kind of mistake...”
"It was a decision of the board of directors. The meeting was presided over by Prince Bjorn himself."
He cut through Walter Hardy's rebuttal with a gentle explanation.
"There's no solid collateral, the submitted documentation is insufficient, and above all, it's been unanimously concluded that the project is unprofitable. So, there's nothing else we can do."
"Collateral? While you're living with my daughter. What, collateral?"
Walter Hardy's face flushed with insult.
Just last week, those who had been trying to please the Prince's father-in-law suddenly changed their tune. The fact that it was that damn prince who had thrown cold water on what had been a smooth process made him even more astonished.
This little bit of money, something he could have given a hundred times over for nothing, was so petty. Suddenly, anger surged toward Erna. How could she have ridiculed her father? No. Perhaps the Prince had already lost interest in his second wife. Considering the Grand Duchess's reputation, that was a more plausible assumption. And with no news of the child yet, it was no wonder the prodigal's heart had strayed.
"Sorry."
Walter Hardy suppressed the urge to punch the man in the face for repeating his mechanical words and left the VIP room of the Freire Bank. As he boarded the carriage waiting in front of the building, a torrent of curses erupted from his lips.
The debt Erna had incurred as a result of his fraud was repaid by the Prince, who had married her. He even provided enough support to maintain the dignity of the Princess's family, so it was not a small favor.
But that was only the bare minimum. It was still a far cry from the Hardy family's heyday. No matter how he looked at it, the Prince seemed unwilling to extend such leniency, so Walter Hardy was determined to rebuild on his own. While he needed the fame of Bjorn Dneister and a small amount of money, this was hardly enough to warrant assistance. He hadn't demanded it for free; he had formally offered to borrow it.
And yet, he is causing such shame.
Walter Hardy chewed his lip nervously. Just as he began to feel anxious that his second wife's term might not be long, the carriage arrived in front of the mansion. Walter Hardy walked with a hurried gait toward his wife's bedroom.
"Brenda, what about that medicine? You haven't given it to Erna yet, have you?"
Brenda Hardy let out a long sigh at the question he asked as he suddenly opened the door without knocking.
"How can I convey it when she doesn't even pretend to hear? Anyway, that kid is really annoying."
"She's just like her mother, foolish as hell. She's definitely a descendant of the Baden family, weak and unable to bear a single child."
Brenda Hardy flinched at the words, which could almost be called hatred. Still, these were not the words a father should speak to his daughter. Considering Baroness Baden, who miraculously managed to conceive a daughter after a dozen years of marriage, and Annette Baden, who suffered a string of miscarriages after the difficult birth of her first child, it was clear that the women in that family lacked the gift of childbearing.
“There isn’t much time left.”
“Why? Is Bjorn Dneister cheating again?”
"Not yet, but if Erna continues like this, it won't be long. Given the Prince's attitude, it wouldn't be surprising if she were kicked out of the Grand Duchess position before the cold wind even blew."
“No way.”
"Just think about what he did to Princess Gladys. So, we need to get this over with before then. What are we going to do? I'm already promised dividends to the investors. I even boasted that the prince would make up the shortfall!"
Walter Hardy's anxious, pacing footsteps echoed through the bedroom. Brenda Hardy, who had been quietly watching her husband, pulled out a box from deep within the closet with a determined expression on her face.
“What is all this?”
Walter Hardy's eyes widened when he saw the jewels inside.
“It’s my hobby.”
Brenda Hardy lowered her voice with a sly smile.
"Even though the Grand Duchess is a social outcast, she's quite popular with the nouveau riche who can't get into this world. They're so desperate to connect with her that they'll even shower me with expensive gifts."
“But selling this isn’t going to solve the problem, Brenda.”
“Then we just need to collect more.”
Brenda Hardy's eyes sparkled with joy as she shrugged her shoulders.
"There's a merchant with the most talent. Would you like to meet him? He may be of humble origins, but his wealth rivals that of any noble family in the capital."
***
Walter Hardy is sincere.
It was one of the few virtues he's recently discovered about himself. The problem, though, was that his sincerity was only applied to useless things.
Bjorn laughed and got up from the bathtub.
Most of Walter Hardy's poorly executed business plans have failed in their initial stages, thanks to Greg's diligent work under his direction.
But the problem was that Walter Hardy was several times more conscientious. Moreover, his obsession was remarkable. In some ways, he was truly remarkable, almost to the point of awe, similar to the feeling he had for Gladys Hartford.
The ambitious plan he finally succeeded in bringing to fruition and even brought to the bank was to acquire a failing commercial cooperative and convert it into a joint-stock company. It was a much easier and simpler method than registering a joint-stock company from the beginning, so it was a considerable investment of brainpower. Even when he saw the falsified financial statements, he was genuinely impressed. From victim of fraud to conman? It was truly a remarkable rise. Of course, the rookie conman's ambitions would soon be dashed.
After giving Greg a few instructions, Bjorn headed to his wife's bedroom. Erna was already asleep again. She was a surprisingly diligent woman, but she'd been sleeping a lot lately.
Bjorn turned off the lamp on the nightstand and lay down beside his wife. It was incredible that such a daughter could be born to such a father. Bjorn, overcome with a newfound amazement, unconsciously stroked the brown hair that lay disheveled on the pillow.
The story of the little girl who stood in the blazing sun all day, trying to erase her father's traces, suddenly came to mind. A pitiful and lovely child who desperately yearned for hair as bright as sunlight, who had learned the secrets of life too early. The image of that child, a child she's never seen before, came to mind vividly. Perhaps it was because the Baroness of Baden's story had been so vivid.
Does this hair resemble Walter Hardy?
The memories he recalled weren't clear. Nothing about him had sunk deep into his memory. Even if they resembled each other, it didn't really matter. Whether her hair was red, blue, or any other color, Erna was still Erna. But it was this beautiful brown hair that suited her best.
Bjorn gently kissed the sweet-smelling hair. The kiss unconsciously spread to her forehead, her cheeks, and the bridge of her nose, where the sun had once burned her skin.
“... Bjorn?”
Just as he kissed her on the lips, Erna slowly opened her eyes. Her water-colored eyes, just waking from sleep, were sensual.
Bjorn gently kissed her parted lips again and naturally climbed on top of his wife. Erna, who had been obediently complying, hesitated and shrugged her shoulders when his hands began to remove her pajamas.
“Bjorn, I’m tired today...”
“You rest.”
Bjorn gently brushed aside Erna's hand, which was clasped over her front. Though she seemed hesitant, Erna finally accepted him.
As he sucked the delicate skin on the back of her neck, Erna hurriedly dodged.
“Dress... the dress to wear to the company outing...”
Erna spoke very seriously about why she was losing her mind.
Bjorn, willing to honor her wishes, licked her nape gently, though with a hint of regret. Burying his face in Erna's chest, which was heaving with labored breathing, she let out a faint moan of pain. It was a more sensitive reaction than usual.
"It hurts?"
Erna nodded slightly, her face flushed red at his question. She seemed a little unwell, but he was already past the point where he could stop.
It was a gentle warmth that woke Bjorn, who had been momentarily suspended between overwhelming desire and self-loathing. He raised his gaze and saw Erna, smiling, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Gently.
Bjorn began to move again, repeating the words as if casting a spell. He knew he could ask for as much as he wanted, but he didn't want to. It was ridiculous.
Perhaps because of the slight fever, Erna's insides were much softer and more comfortable than usual. Yet, even though he couldn't move freely, almost to the point of madness, Bjorn cherished this moment. The eyes fixed on him, the smile on her lips as she gasped for breath, the heartbeats of their chests touching—that intimate connection was as pleasurable as it was pleasurable.
When the moment came when rational judgment could no longer intervene, Erna spread her legs a little wider to allow him to move freely.
Bjorn sat up straight, looking down at the woman who had everything he didn't like. As he began to thrust with the force of his suppressed desire, her breasts, like swollen flower buds, swayed wildly. Even her moans, which she couldn't hide even with her lips tightly shut, were beautiful. Perhaps God had created someone like Walter Hardy solely to hold her in his arms. A somewhat pathetic and sentimental thought, mixed with his maddening desire, mingled with his own.
As if clearing his mind of distracting thoughts, Bjorn concentrated solely on this moment. Erna's eyes, shaking violently, were now noticeably red. Even her moaning voice was beginning to show signs of tears.
Even that was good.
***
Bjorn, who had fallen asleep in the comfort of his perfect wife, suddenly opened his eyes in the deep dawn, well past midnight. The bedroom was filled with the clear darkness characteristic of a summer night.
The dream that had awakened him vanished like smoke the moment he opened his eyes. All that remained was a faint afterimage of a very warm and cozy time.
After staring at the ceiling beyond the darkness for a while, Bjorn turned his head with a hollow laugh. It was then that he realized the seat next to him was empty.
Bjorn frowned and sat up. He looked around the bedroom, but Erna was nowhere to be found.
Erna disappeared.
He knew it was out there somewhere, and he knew it was a completely irrational decision, but he still had a hard time shaking off the overwhelming feeling of anxiety.
Finally, giving up on lying down again, Bjorn climbed out of bed. Only then did he notice the faint light streaming in through the gap between the door connecting the suite's bedroom and the living room.
Bjorn let out a long, self-deprecating sigh and began to walk slowly toward the light.
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