143. The place where illusions disappeared
Erna, her eyes wide and round, blinked, unable to respond, averting her gaze. It felt as if a blizzard was brewing within her. Her mind was completely white, making it difficult to form any thoughts.
“Take a rest.”
Erna hesitated for a moment, then gave a calm reply, as if she hadn't heard anything. The hand that twisted her skirt was trembling, but she didn't have the presence of mind to notice it.
As her abnormal heartbeat calmed somewhat, Erna turned around as if fleeing. She didn't want to see that man anymore. The compulsion to do so pushed her back. But before she could take even a few steps, Bjorn blocked her path. Erna realized it only when she felt the grip of a large hand on her shoulder.
“Weren’t you waiting for me?”
The voice of Bjorn, asking urgently, drowned out the sound of the wind blowing inside Erna.
“That’s why you stayed up so late at night.”
“That’s not it!”
Erna looked up at Bjorn with watery eyes.
"I don't know if you'll come. If you do, I'll have to open the door. That's why I decided to just watch until midnight."
“That’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
Bjorn ran a hand through his still-wet hair and sighed deeply.
“Why did you wait for me and then run away when I finally came back?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Erna!”
"Everything seems easy to you, but not to me. So please, don't shake me anymore. I beg you."
“Does it look easy?”
As Bjorn watched Erna pleading with a face that looked like she was about to cry, a new, dejected self-mockery flowed from his lips.
She was an easygoing and comfortable woman.
Within the arithmetic system Bjorn knew, it certainly was. But that arithmetic had long since become useless, and Erna, no longer capable of calculation, had become a challenge that shattered his world.
"No. Not at all, Erna. Do you think it'd be easy for me to return to the woman who wishes me gone and start spouting nonsense?"
“A wish?”
“That wish you made on your birthday.”
The joints on the back of Bjorn's hand, which gripped Erna's shoulder, bulged whitely. The absurdity of such self-destructive words spilling out so easily made him laugh.
Bjorm, looking at Erna, knew that this was ultimately her only wish. So he couldn't ask. He didn't even want to admit to this woman that he had fallen to such insignificance. Ultimately, he ended up facing rock bottom.
“That’s not my wish.”
Erna, who had been glaring at him with eyes full of resentment, opened her mouth.
"This is a precious wish for your once-in-a-lifetime twenty-first birthday. Do you really think I'd waste it on wishing you would just disappear?"
“If not that? What is that wish?”
“I wish it for the baby!”
Erna shouted impulsively. Bjorn's eyes, struck by the unexpected blow, were momentarily stunned.
“Baby, our poor baby who left like that...”
Tears welled up in Erna's eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks. Again, again. The ceaseless flow of tears soon soaked her small face.
"I prayed that the child would go to a good place. Is that a sufficient answer?"
Erna's lips, which had been trembling and unable to speak, finally formed proper words after a long time.
“That child may have been nothing to you, but he was very precious to me.”
Erna's eyes, like those of a lost child, returned to him. Bjorn simply stared at the weeping Erna, unable to continue speaking.
"Actually, I was scared I'd never have a child. Princess Gladys, they say, had a son. So, it was entirely my fault that I couldn't conceive. What should I do? What if I become a truly useless wife? As time went by, that fear grew more and more unbearable, and when that became unbearable, this child came to me."
Erna shed tears as she poured out the memories she had been trying to forget. Blurred vision and the darkness of the night made it difficult to see Bjorn's face clearly. Fortunately, it was a blessing.
"Even though I found out about it under such dire circumstances, I was still shamelessly happy. Looking back, it was especially so because the baby was born last spring, during a time of miraculous happiness for us here in Buford. I felt like if only the baby were born healthy, that miracle would happen again. Even if you weren't the least bit happy, it was definitely our baby."
The memories of that summer day, the child who left his father without ever being welcomed, and the indelible scars that were left behind, came flooding back to Erna through her tears. How desolate and lonely she had been. And yet, how joyful she had been. Yet, how terrifying was the bottomless despair and pain of that day, when she had to send away the child she had loved alone. Those emotions, vividly resurrected as if in the present, began to torment and shake Erna like a storm.
"I'm sure there wasn't a sense of relief, like people gossiped about, that thanks to that child, I was able to keep my position as Grand Duchess. No. I definitely did. Thinking back, I'm not qualified to say he was precious. What kind of mother is that?"
Erna laughed and cried. It felt like she was finally facing the truth she had been deliberately avoiding since losing her child.
“Bjorn, it’s not you I hate, it’s me.”
Erna's gaze, which had been wandering through the air, fell on Bjorn again.
"Even when I was hurt, I loved you. You were the one who left my child and me alone until the very end, and even though it was so painful and miserable, my heart wouldn't stop. I hated myself so much that I lied to myself. I told myself I no longer loved you. I thought that was the only way I could live by your side."
“Erna.”
With difficulty, Bjorn parted his lips, but he couldn't continue. Instead, he lifted the hand that had been gripping Erna's shoulder, cupped her face, and slowly, very carefully, began to wipe away her tears. His cool, gentle touch only intensified the fervor of Erna's barely contained sobs.
"But it was still unbearable. I was so scared, it was suffocating. That's why I left you. I couldn't bear to be me, not you, me, wanting to love you again. And Bjorn, I still feel that way."
The truth that could no longer be hidden burst out with childish cries.
The memory of the night she escaped from the room that was like a flower grave came back to Bjorn's tear-stained face.
If she truly had stopped loving this man, she could have endured. She could have lived peaceful days, becoming a beautiful, everlasting harmony. But Erna had to run away. Because she loved him.
"I hate myself for wavering, even though I know I loved an illusion. I don't want to be hurt anymore, but I hate myself for hoping again, even though I feel like I can't bear it anymore. Bjorn, that's why I'm suffering so much. I'm scared."
Erna's sobs, pouring out with her gasping breath, had become so intense that she was struggling to control her body. At some point, she even had trouble recognizing what she was saying.
But one thing is clear: Bjorn.
The eyes that looked at her quietly, the hands that wiped her tears, and the two arms that held her staggering body were deeply engraved in her consciousness as an overly vivid memory.
Sorry.
He said, holding the struggling Erna deep in his arms.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Erna.
In a low, locked voice, several times.
Maybe it was the crying, or maybe it was an auditory hallucination created by the snowstorm.
"I can't believe how the weather can change so dramatically overnight. It's hard to believe there was a blizzard."
Lisa's cheerful voice broke the silence in the room.
Erna, who had been sitting silently, clutching a long-cold teacup, finally looked up at Lisa. The bright sunlight streaming through the open window illuminated her face, noticeably haggard from the night before. Seen in the bright light, her puffy eyes stood out even more.
"Your Highness, shall we go for a walk? You skipped your morning walk today."
Lisa pretended not to see, looked away, and changed the subject.
A blizzard raged. The Prince returned. And Erna wept.
Lisa only knew fragments of what happened last night. But even from those fragments, she could easily guess what happened to Erna.
The Prince returned on a snowy night and made Erna cry.
It was clear that the Prince was indeed a sinner.
“Let’s go out quickly. Yes?”
While Erna was hesitating, Lisa quickly grabbed her coat and gloves.
“Come on, Your Highness. I’ll make you a snowman.”
"Snowman?"
Erna's eyes, which had been blankly blank, widened. Lisa smiled as if she'd expected this, and helped Erna up.
"I'll make you a snowman much bigger than the one in your cookie jar. Actually, I'm really good at making snowmen. You'll be amazed at my skills."
Erna chuckled at the jokey boast. Only then did Lisa, relieved of her worries, look down at the snow-covered Baden garden, brimming with newfound enthusiasm.
It was the site where Lisa Brill's masterpiece was scheduled to be built.
What woke Bjorn was the servant's persistent knocking. He seemed ready to pound the door until it was worn away if he wasn't allowed entry.
“...Come in.”
Bjorn reluctantly opened his eyes and gave the order. As he sat up, his body as heavy as water-soaked cotton, a weeping servant entered. He looked as if he had just arrived.
“Prince!”
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Bjorn interrupted the man, who was about to launch into a long-winded tirade, with a snickering apology. The servant sighed deeply and clutched his forehead.
The Prince is crazy.
There was no other way to explain what happened yesterday.
The train, which had departed Schwerin in the wee hours of the morning, stopped at its final stop when news of deteriorating weather in Burford reached the train. The conductor, who personally delivered the news, advised them to disembark at this station. He advised them not to be stranded in a rural station late at night, caught in a blizzard, and instead to stay overnight in this small town with a hotel.
It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, and the Prince readily accepted. So, he thought everything was settled. Until he realized the Prince, who had apparently gotten off the train with him, had disappeared.
As his voice, searching for the Prince, resonated, the stopped train began to move again. And then, he found the Prince. Prince Bjorn, who had run alone across the platform and jumped back onto the train, was a truly madman.
“If anything had happened to the prince, I would have...”
“As you can see, it’s fine.”
Bjorn, wearing the robe he'd thrown away, got up from bed and walked to the window. Opening the curtains, a bright light poured in, enveloping him.
Bjorn let out a long, feverish sigh and sat down on the windowsill, his movements slower than usual. He glanced down and saw Erna standing in the snow-covered white garden. He wondered what she was doing, and to his absurdity, he was building a snowman with the gatekeeper of hell. Judging by the tacky flowers hanging from her, it must have been Erna.
A smile spread across Bjorn's lips as he listened to the two women's laughter, as if they were having a good time.
“Are you good at making snowmen?”
Bjorn, who had just gotten down from the windowsill, asked a dull question to the attendant with a pensive expression on his face.
"Yes...?"
He blinked slowly and asked in a bewildered manner.
Instead of answering, Bjorn smiled again.
Erna, her eyes wide and round, blinked, unable to respond, averting her gaze. It felt as if a blizzard was brewing within her. Her mind was completely white, making it difficult to form any thoughts.
“Take a rest.”
Erna hesitated for a moment, then gave a calm reply, as if she hadn't heard anything. The hand that twisted her skirt was trembling, but she didn't have the presence of mind to notice it.
As her abnormal heartbeat calmed somewhat, Erna turned around as if fleeing. She didn't want to see that man anymore. The compulsion to do so pushed her back. But before she could take even a few steps, Bjorn blocked her path. Erna realized it only when she felt the grip of a large hand on her shoulder.
“Weren’t you waiting for me?”
The voice of Bjorn, asking urgently, drowned out the sound of the wind blowing inside Erna.
“That’s why you stayed up so late at night.”
“That’s not it!”
Erna looked up at Bjorn with watery eyes.
"I don't know if you'll come. If you do, I'll have to open the door. That's why I decided to just watch until midnight."
“That’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
Bjorn ran a hand through his still-wet hair and sighed deeply.
“Why did you wait for me and then run away when I finally came back?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Erna!”
"Everything seems easy to you, but not to me. So please, don't shake me anymore. I beg you."
“Does it look easy?”
As Bjorn watched Erna pleading with a face that looked like she was about to cry, a new, dejected self-mockery flowed from his lips.
She was an easygoing and comfortable woman.
Within the arithmetic system Bjorn knew, it certainly was. But that arithmetic had long since become useless, and Erna, no longer capable of calculation, had become a challenge that shattered his world.
"No. Not at all, Erna. Do you think it'd be easy for me to return to the woman who wishes me gone and start spouting nonsense?"
“A wish?”
“That wish you made on your birthday.”
The joints on the back of Bjorn's hand, which gripped Erna's shoulder, bulged whitely. The absurdity of such self-destructive words spilling out so easily made him laugh.
Bjorm, looking at Erna, knew that this was ultimately her only wish. So he couldn't ask. He didn't even want to admit to this woman that he had fallen to such insignificance. Ultimately, he ended up facing rock bottom.
“That’s not my wish.”
Erna, who had been glaring at him with eyes full of resentment, opened her mouth.
"This is a precious wish for your once-in-a-lifetime twenty-first birthday. Do you really think I'd waste it on wishing you would just disappear?"
“If not that? What is that wish?”
“I wish it for the baby!”
Erna shouted impulsively. Bjorn's eyes, struck by the unexpected blow, were momentarily stunned.
“Baby, our poor baby who left like that...”
Tears welled up in Erna's eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks. Again, again. The ceaseless flow of tears soon soaked her small face.
"I prayed that the child would go to a good place. Is that a sufficient answer?"
Erna's lips, which had been trembling and unable to speak, finally formed proper words after a long time.
“That child may have been nothing to you, but he was very precious to me.”
Erna's eyes, like those of a lost child, returned to him. Bjorn simply stared at the weeping Erna, unable to continue speaking.
"Actually, I was scared I'd never have a child. Princess Gladys, they say, had a son. So, it was entirely my fault that I couldn't conceive. What should I do? What if I become a truly useless wife? As time went by, that fear grew more and more unbearable, and when that became unbearable, this child came to me."
Erna shed tears as she poured out the memories she had been trying to forget. Blurred vision and the darkness of the night made it difficult to see Bjorn's face clearly. Fortunately, it was a blessing.
"Even though I found out about it under such dire circumstances, I was still shamelessly happy. Looking back, it was especially so because the baby was born last spring, during a time of miraculous happiness for us here in Buford. I felt like if only the baby were born healthy, that miracle would happen again. Even if you weren't the least bit happy, it was definitely our baby."
The memories of that summer day, the child who left his father without ever being welcomed, and the indelible scars that were left behind, came flooding back to Erna through her tears. How desolate and lonely she had been. And yet, how joyful she had been. Yet, how terrifying was the bottomless despair and pain of that day, when she had to send away the child she had loved alone. Those emotions, vividly resurrected as if in the present, began to torment and shake Erna like a storm.
"I'm sure there wasn't a sense of relief, like people gossiped about, that thanks to that child, I was able to keep my position as Grand Duchess. No. I definitely did. Thinking back, I'm not qualified to say he was precious. What kind of mother is that?"
Erna laughed and cried. It felt like she was finally facing the truth she had been deliberately avoiding since losing her child.
“Bjorn, it’s not you I hate, it’s me.”
Erna's gaze, which had been wandering through the air, fell on Bjorn again.
"Even when I was hurt, I loved you. You were the one who left my child and me alone until the very end, and even though it was so painful and miserable, my heart wouldn't stop. I hated myself so much that I lied to myself. I told myself I no longer loved you. I thought that was the only way I could live by your side."
“Erna.”
With difficulty, Bjorn parted his lips, but he couldn't continue. Instead, he lifted the hand that had been gripping Erna's shoulder, cupped her face, and slowly, very carefully, began to wipe away her tears. His cool, gentle touch only intensified the fervor of Erna's barely contained sobs.
"But it was still unbearable. I was so scared, it was suffocating. That's why I left you. I couldn't bear to be me, not you, me, wanting to love you again. And Bjorn, I still feel that way."
The truth that could no longer be hidden burst out with childish cries.
The memory of the night she escaped from the room that was like a flower grave came back to Bjorn's tear-stained face.
If she truly had stopped loving this man, she could have endured. She could have lived peaceful days, becoming a beautiful, everlasting harmony. But Erna had to run away. Because she loved him.
"I hate myself for wavering, even though I know I loved an illusion. I don't want to be hurt anymore, but I hate myself for hoping again, even though I feel like I can't bear it anymore. Bjorn, that's why I'm suffering so much. I'm scared."
Erna's sobs, pouring out with her gasping breath, had become so intense that she was struggling to control her body. At some point, she even had trouble recognizing what she was saying.
But one thing is clear: Bjorn.
The eyes that looked at her quietly, the hands that wiped her tears, and the two arms that held her staggering body were deeply engraved in her consciousness as an overly vivid memory.
Sorry.
He said, holding the struggling Erna deep in his arms.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Erna.
In a low, locked voice, several times.
Maybe it was the crying, or maybe it was an auditory hallucination created by the snowstorm.
***
"I can't believe how the weather can change so dramatically overnight. It's hard to believe there was a blizzard."
Lisa's cheerful voice broke the silence in the room.
Erna, who had been sitting silently, clutching a long-cold teacup, finally looked up at Lisa. The bright sunlight streaming through the open window illuminated her face, noticeably haggard from the night before. Seen in the bright light, her puffy eyes stood out even more.
"Your Highness, shall we go for a walk? You skipped your morning walk today."
Lisa pretended not to see, looked away, and changed the subject.
A blizzard raged. The Prince returned. And Erna wept.
Lisa only knew fragments of what happened last night. But even from those fragments, she could easily guess what happened to Erna.
The Prince returned on a snowy night and made Erna cry.
It was clear that the Prince was indeed a sinner.
“Let’s go out quickly. Yes?”
While Erna was hesitating, Lisa quickly grabbed her coat and gloves.
“Come on, Your Highness. I’ll make you a snowman.”
"Snowman?"
Erna's eyes, which had been blankly blank, widened. Lisa smiled as if she'd expected this, and helped Erna up.
"I'll make you a snowman much bigger than the one in your cookie jar. Actually, I'm really good at making snowmen. You'll be amazed at my skills."
Erna chuckled at the jokey boast. Only then did Lisa, relieved of her worries, look down at the snow-covered Baden garden, brimming with newfound enthusiasm.
It was the site where Lisa Brill's masterpiece was scheduled to be built.
***
What woke Bjorn was the servant's persistent knocking. He seemed ready to pound the door until it was worn away if he wasn't allowed entry.
“...Come in.”
Bjorn reluctantly opened his eyes and gave the order. As he sat up, his body as heavy as water-soaked cotton, a weeping servant entered. He looked as if he had just arrived.
“Prince!”
“I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Bjorn interrupted the man, who was about to launch into a long-winded tirade, with a snickering apology. The servant sighed deeply and clutched his forehead.
The Prince is crazy.
There was no other way to explain what happened yesterday.
The train, which had departed Schwerin in the wee hours of the morning, stopped at its final stop when news of deteriorating weather in Burford reached the train. The conductor, who personally delivered the news, advised them to disembark at this station. He advised them not to be stranded in a rural station late at night, caught in a blizzard, and instead to stay overnight in this small town with a hotel.
It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, and the Prince readily accepted. So, he thought everything was settled. Until he realized the Prince, who had apparently gotten off the train with him, had disappeared.
As his voice, searching for the Prince, resonated, the stopped train began to move again. And then, he found the Prince. Prince Bjorn, who had run alone across the platform and jumped back onto the train, was a truly madman.
“If anything had happened to the prince, I would have...”
“As you can see, it’s fine.”
Bjorn, wearing the robe he'd thrown away, got up from bed and walked to the window. Opening the curtains, a bright light poured in, enveloping him.
Bjorn let out a long, feverish sigh and sat down on the windowsill, his movements slower than usual. He glanced down and saw Erna standing in the snow-covered white garden. He wondered what she was doing, and to his absurdity, he was building a snowman with the gatekeeper of hell. Judging by the tacky flowers hanging from her, it must have been Erna.
A smile spread across Bjorn's lips as he listened to the two women's laughter, as if they were having a good time.
“Are you good at making snowmen?”
Bjorn, who had just gotten down from the windowsill, asked a dull question to the attendant with a pensive expression on his face.
"Yes...?"
He blinked slowly and asked in a bewildered manner.
Instead of answering, Bjorn smiled again.
Comments
Post a Comment