144. You will be defeated
The Prince threw down the gauntlet.
It was a provocative act that cannot be described in any other words.
The Prince, who had suddenly appeared beside Lisa and Erna, who were building a snowman together, began rolling his eyes without saying a word. The two watched in amazement, their eyes wide open. Only after the snowball had grown considerably did they realize what the Prince was doing.
The First Prince of Letzen and Grand Duke of Schwerin. Former Crown Prince. Or a poisonous mushroom.
The noble Prince, with his dazzling adjectives, was building a snowman. The servant, astonished as if witnessing a spectacle of heaven and earth reversing, circled the Prince, at a loss for what to do.
“Excuse me, Your Highness?”
Lisa, who had grasped the situation, carefully observed Erna's complexion.
Erna, who had been studying the Prince with narrowed eyes, turned away without adding a word. Her gesture of arranging flowers for the snowman was as elegant and composed as before. Only then did Lisa, relieved of her worries, return to concentrating on decorating the snowman.
“Now, look. It’s Your Highness, snowman.”
Finally, Lisa, who had tied a ribbon around the snowman's neck, proudly introduced her creation. The snowman, made by stacking and trimming round, cute snowballs and decorating them with flowers and ribbons, was as lovely as Erna.
Erna, who had been looking at the snowman with affectionate eyes, applauded Lisa's work with a thunderous ovation. The laughter that followed was as clear as the cloudless, blue sky of that day.
Bjorn paused for a moment, then turned his head to look at Erna. Her pale complexion and puffy eyes still bothered him, but seeing her smiling face brought him relief.
Last night, Erna wept bitterly until she was too exhausted to shed any more tears. Bjorn held his wife in his arms and waited silently, enduring his helplessness, unable to do more than that.
As the long sobs gradually subsided, Erna stared at Bjorn for a long moment, her eyes seemingly vacant. Then, with a slow but firm hand, she pushed him away and backed away. Bjorn stopped holding on to the woman as she fled.
“Prince. What, what is this...?”
The servant's stammering words erased his deepening thoughts.
Bjorn turned around and faced his snowball. It was a good size for a snowman, but it felt a bit too small for Dniester.
“I think we need to work harder, too.”
With a slight nod, Bjorn pointed to the pure white snow field spread out before the attendant.
“Isn’t that so?”
The question he posed as he began rolling the snowball again was mingled with the sound of birds soaring from the branches of the ash tree. Also present was the whisper of a servant quietly seeking God.
Big.
That was the dominant impression the snowman gave.
It's big. It's really big.
Erna and Lisa, standing beside their own snowman, stared at the Prince's snowman with wide eyes in surprise. Just as they'd hoped, Bjorn had indeed completed his snowman. It was as big as a house, next to Erna's.
This guy is really good at making snowmen.
Erna admitted the fact with a sense of absurdity. It was astonishing how such a large snowball could be shaped into a perfect circle.
“I think it would be perfect if we just left the symbol.”
Bjorn, who had been taking a few steps back and examining the snowman, spoke. The servant, his eyes darting back and forth, finally sighed with belated understanding upon seeing the flower-adorned Grand Duchess snowman.
While he searched for the Prince's symbol, Bjorn refined the snowman's shape. He had to finish what he'd started perfectly, even if it meant building just one snowman.
The attendant, who had left in a hurry, returned to the garden just as Bjorn finished his final review, cigar in hand.
Should I just cut him off with that maid?
While he was seriously considering the servant's next move, a small laugh was heard. It was Erna. Their eyes met, and her face hardened, but a faint smile still lingered on her lips.
Bjorn, who smiled like the woman, accepted the cigar offered by the servant with a more generous heart. He put it in his mouth, and the Prince's snowman, complete with symbolic meaning, was completed.
“This is me. That is you.”
Bjorn nodded slightly, pointing to the two snowmen standing side by side. Erna carefully examined the cigar-smoking snowman and the one adorned with artificial flowers, then rested her gaze on his face again.
“Who makes a snowman that big?”
“I’m big.”
“It would be scary to see it at night.”
“I will be with you in the rain that you are afraid of.”
"No!"
Erna straightened her face and nodded. Her flushed cheeks were beautiful. Even her wind-blown hair and puffy eyes looked the same.
Bjorn stared at her beautiful, unknown face with narrowed eyes, blinded by the sunlight reflecting off her eyes. A laugh escaped his lips as he remembered the madness he'd committed yesterday, simply to see that face.
Even when he disembarked at his final port of call with his attendant, he had intended to spend the night in the city. If the weather was bad and travel was difficult, there was no reason to risk the journey to Burford.
But as the train's horn began to blow, signaling departure, an indescribable emotion began to shake him. It was a rather irrational urge to turn back.
Finally, Bjorn turned around and boarded the train, which had begun to move across the platform. It was a reckless act, something the Prince of Letzen should never have committed. It was the same no matter what position he held. But at that moment, his only criterion was Erna. And Bjorn Dneister was simply her man.
Prediction and control were completely neutralized.
Everything about Erna was a mess of variables beyond his control. It was chaos, a sweet, muddy mess.
Mrs. Fitz told him to go to Burford and get what he wanted. To win like a Dneister. But, well, this love was like playing a game with no chance of winning.
You will lose.
Bjorn had a feeling it would happen. Yet, he didn't want to stop. He was willing to play a losing game. That was the victory he desired.
Bjorn let out a soft sigh of resignation and turned his gaze to the distant sky. Now that Erna had shown her heart, it was his turn to respond. It was a question so overwhelming, almost daunting, that he couldn't avoid it any longer.
Taking a deep breath, Bjorn approached between the two snowmen. Slowly, he bent down and rolled up a small snowball.
“What are you making now?”
Erna, who had been quietly watching the scene, tilted her head slightly and asked a question.
“Baby Dniester.”
Bjorn paused for a moment, then gave a calm answer without looking at Erna. Then, with extremely careful hands, he began to sculpt a tiny snowman.
“Our child.”
The words he added softly were carried on the cold, clear wind.
Erna, speechless, couldn't offer a response. Unable to comprehend what she'd just heard, she mulled over the brief reply several times.
Why.
As she finally began to understand Bjorn's words, a sharp question arose in her mind.
Why. Why now, why you?
Erna slowly blinked her reddened eyes and approached Bjorn, who was building a baby snowman. Lisa and the attendant, who had been fidgeting and watching, finally left, leaving the garden, now blanketed in pure white snow, alone with the two of them.
“Why are you like this?”
Erna stopped walking beside the baby snowman he was making.
“Why are you doing this to a child whom you never showed any interest in?”
Erna's agitated voice was dripping with moisture. She suddenly felt regretful about the night before, when she had revealed her true feelings to Bjorn. She felt ashamed, as if her shame had been exposed, and at the same time, she was angry.
“Are you pitying me for my foolishness? Or...?”
“I was also happy to hear the news of your pregnancy.”
Bjorn, who had completed the snowman's body, raised his head from the shadow cast by Erna.
“How could I not be happy, Erna? This is our child.”
Looking at Erna, who had a bewildered expression, Bjorn spoke softly once again.
"I thought she'd protect you from what Viscount Hardy had done. No one would dare drive away my wife, who carries my child. She fulfilled her role from the moment she was born. I was so proud, she was truly my child."
Bjorn, with a smile that resembled a sigh, lowered his head again and continued building his snowman. His hands, gloved and touching the snow, were red and frozen, but he paid no attention.
"I admit I didn't put my child first. My priority was you, so I only thought about what I had to do to protect you. That alone was overwhelming, so everything else, even my own child, took a back seat."
While a quiet conversation continued, the baby snowman was completed.
Bjorn, meticulously arranging the arrangement, searched through the basket Lisa had brought and found a single, suitable flower. Erna's beloved lily of the valley. Perhaps it was the very same flower that had bloomed in the meadows of Burford Forest on the day their first child was born.
Erna, who had run across the meadow in a rush of excitement, picking flowers and bringing them back, floated up above the little snowman. She had come on such a beautiful spring day, and she would have grown into a lovely young lady like her mother. If only she had been born safely into this world.
Bjorn opened his eyes, which had been closed, and handed the flower to the snowman. Then he slowly got up and stood facing Erna.
Gazing into Erna's flushed eyes, Bjorn recalled an afternoon near the end of last summer. The day after clearing out the child's belongings, he visited the doctor who had been caring for Erna. It was an impulsive decision.
The attending doctor repeatedly reminded her that this was by no means a unique misfortune. It was a common occurrence, and therefore no one's fault. He also never failed to offer reassurance that a healthy baby would be born next time.
It's no one's fault.
He got that definitive answer, so it was ultimately a visit that he had hoped would come true. That was all he knew.
“It was a daughter. Our child.”
Bjorn spoke calmly, his voice betraying no particular emotion.
The Prince threw down the gauntlet.
It was a provocative act that cannot be described in any other words.
The Prince, who had suddenly appeared beside Lisa and Erna, who were building a snowman together, began rolling his eyes without saying a word. The two watched in amazement, their eyes wide open. Only after the snowball had grown considerably did they realize what the Prince was doing.
The First Prince of Letzen and Grand Duke of Schwerin. Former Crown Prince. Or a poisonous mushroom.
The noble Prince, with his dazzling adjectives, was building a snowman. The servant, astonished as if witnessing a spectacle of heaven and earth reversing, circled the Prince, at a loss for what to do.
“Excuse me, Your Highness?”
Lisa, who had grasped the situation, carefully observed Erna's complexion.
Erna, who had been studying the Prince with narrowed eyes, turned away without adding a word. Her gesture of arranging flowers for the snowman was as elegant and composed as before. Only then did Lisa, relieved of her worries, return to concentrating on decorating the snowman.
“Now, look. It’s Your Highness, snowman.”
Finally, Lisa, who had tied a ribbon around the snowman's neck, proudly introduced her creation. The snowman, made by stacking and trimming round, cute snowballs and decorating them with flowers and ribbons, was as lovely as Erna.
Erna, who had been looking at the snowman with affectionate eyes, applauded Lisa's work with a thunderous ovation. The laughter that followed was as clear as the cloudless, blue sky of that day.
Bjorn paused for a moment, then turned his head to look at Erna. Her pale complexion and puffy eyes still bothered him, but seeing her smiling face brought him relief.
Last night, Erna wept bitterly until she was too exhausted to shed any more tears. Bjorn held his wife in his arms and waited silently, enduring his helplessness, unable to do more than that.
As the long sobs gradually subsided, Erna stared at Bjorn for a long moment, her eyes seemingly vacant. Then, with a slow but firm hand, she pushed him away and backed away. Bjorn stopped holding on to the woman as she fled.
“Prince. What, what is this...?”
The servant's stammering words erased his deepening thoughts.
Bjorn turned around and faced his snowball. It was a good size for a snowman, but it felt a bit too small for Dniester.
“I think we need to work harder, too.”
With a slight nod, Bjorn pointed to the pure white snow field spread out before the attendant.
“Isn’t that so?”
The question he posed as he began rolling the snowball again was mingled with the sound of birds soaring from the branches of the ash tree. Also present was the whisper of a servant quietly seeking God.
***
Big.
That was the dominant impression the snowman gave.
It's big. It's really big.
Erna and Lisa, standing beside their own snowman, stared at the Prince's snowman with wide eyes in surprise. Just as they'd hoped, Bjorn had indeed completed his snowman. It was as big as a house, next to Erna's.
This guy is really good at making snowmen.
Erna admitted the fact with a sense of absurdity. It was astonishing how such a large snowball could be shaped into a perfect circle.
“I think it would be perfect if we just left the symbol.”
Bjorn, who had been taking a few steps back and examining the snowman, spoke. The servant, his eyes darting back and forth, finally sighed with belated understanding upon seeing the flower-adorned Grand Duchess snowman.
While he searched for the Prince's symbol, Bjorn refined the snowman's shape. He had to finish what he'd started perfectly, even if it meant building just one snowman.
The attendant, who had left in a hurry, returned to the garden just as Bjorn finished his final review, cigar in hand.
Should I just cut him off with that maid?
While he was seriously considering the servant's next move, a small laugh was heard. It was Erna. Their eyes met, and her face hardened, but a faint smile still lingered on her lips.
Bjorn, who smiled like the woman, accepted the cigar offered by the servant with a more generous heart. He put it in his mouth, and the Prince's snowman, complete with symbolic meaning, was completed.
“This is me. That is you.”
Bjorn nodded slightly, pointing to the two snowmen standing side by side. Erna carefully examined the cigar-smoking snowman and the one adorned with artificial flowers, then rested her gaze on his face again.
“Who makes a snowman that big?”
“I’m big.”
“It would be scary to see it at night.”
“I will be with you in the rain that you are afraid of.”
"No!"
Erna straightened her face and nodded. Her flushed cheeks were beautiful. Even her wind-blown hair and puffy eyes looked the same.
Bjorn stared at her beautiful, unknown face with narrowed eyes, blinded by the sunlight reflecting off her eyes. A laugh escaped his lips as he remembered the madness he'd committed yesterday, simply to see that face.
Even when he disembarked at his final port of call with his attendant, he had intended to spend the night in the city. If the weather was bad and travel was difficult, there was no reason to risk the journey to Burford.
But as the train's horn began to blow, signaling departure, an indescribable emotion began to shake him. It was a rather irrational urge to turn back.
Finally, Bjorn turned around and boarded the train, which had begun to move across the platform. It was a reckless act, something the Prince of Letzen should never have committed. It was the same no matter what position he held. But at that moment, his only criterion was Erna. And Bjorn Dneister was simply her man.
Prediction and control were completely neutralized.
Everything about Erna was a mess of variables beyond his control. It was chaos, a sweet, muddy mess.
Mrs. Fitz told him to go to Burford and get what he wanted. To win like a Dneister. But, well, this love was like playing a game with no chance of winning.
You will lose.
Bjorn had a feeling it would happen. Yet, he didn't want to stop. He was willing to play a losing game. That was the victory he desired.
Bjorn let out a soft sigh of resignation and turned his gaze to the distant sky. Now that Erna had shown her heart, it was his turn to respond. It was a question so overwhelming, almost daunting, that he couldn't avoid it any longer.
Taking a deep breath, Bjorn approached between the two snowmen. Slowly, he bent down and rolled up a small snowball.
“What are you making now?”
Erna, who had been quietly watching the scene, tilted her head slightly and asked a question.
“Baby Dniester.”
Bjorn paused for a moment, then gave a calm answer without looking at Erna. Then, with extremely careful hands, he began to sculpt a tiny snowman.
“Our child.”
The words he added softly were carried on the cold, clear wind.
Erna, speechless, couldn't offer a response. Unable to comprehend what she'd just heard, she mulled over the brief reply several times.
Why.
As she finally began to understand Bjorn's words, a sharp question arose in her mind.
Why. Why now, why you?
Erna slowly blinked her reddened eyes and approached Bjorn, who was building a baby snowman. Lisa and the attendant, who had been fidgeting and watching, finally left, leaving the garden, now blanketed in pure white snow, alone with the two of them.
“Why are you like this?”
Erna stopped walking beside the baby snowman he was making.
“Why are you doing this to a child whom you never showed any interest in?”
Erna's agitated voice was dripping with moisture. She suddenly felt regretful about the night before, when she had revealed her true feelings to Bjorn. She felt ashamed, as if her shame had been exposed, and at the same time, she was angry.
“Are you pitying me for my foolishness? Or...?”
“I was also happy to hear the news of your pregnancy.”
Bjorn, who had completed the snowman's body, raised his head from the shadow cast by Erna.
“How could I not be happy, Erna? This is our child.”
Looking at Erna, who had a bewildered expression, Bjorn spoke softly once again.
"I thought she'd protect you from what Viscount Hardy had done. No one would dare drive away my wife, who carries my child. She fulfilled her role from the moment she was born. I was so proud, she was truly my child."
Bjorn, with a smile that resembled a sigh, lowered his head again and continued building his snowman. His hands, gloved and touching the snow, were red and frozen, but he paid no attention.
"I admit I didn't put my child first. My priority was you, so I only thought about what I had to do to protect you. That alone was overwhelming, so everything else, even my own child, took a back seat."
While a quiet conversation continued, the baby snowman was completed.
Bjorn, meticulously arranging the arrangement, searched through the basket Lisa had brought and found a single, suitable flower. Erna's beloved lily of the valley. Perhaps it was the very same flower that had bloomed in the meadows of Burford Forest on the day their first child was born.
Erna, who had run across the meadow in a rush of excitement, picking flowers and bringing them back, floated up above the little snowman. She had come on such a beautiful spring day, and she would have grown into a lovely young lady like her mother. If only she had been born safely into this world.
Bjorn opened his eyes, which had been closed, and handed the flower to the snowman. Then he slowly got up and stood facing Erna.
Gazing into Erna's flushed eyes, Bjorn recalled an afternoon near the end of last summer. The day after clearing out the child's belongings, he visited the doctor who had been caring for Erna. It was an impulsive decision.
From the day the pregnancy was confirmed to the day of the miscarriage. Tell me everything the doctor knows about the baby. That was the one request Bjorn made in his office. And the doctor complied with it, with the seasoned professionalism of an experienced doctor.
That day, he learned. That the miscarried child had been a daughter. Perhaps because of the shock that came from knowing the child had been developed enough to be identified as such, he doesn't remember much of the explanation he heard afterward.
It's no one's fault.
He got that definitive answer, so it was ultimately a visit that he had hoped would come true. That was all he knew.
“It was a daughter. Our child.”
Bjorn spoke calmly, his voice betraying no particular emotion.
Comments
Post a Comment