148. One Last Desire
"You're here, Bjorn. I hear your love life hasn't been going so smoothly."
Duchess Arsene, whose eyes met Bjorn's, offered a mischievous smile and a joke. While her face was clearly aching, she didn't appear as critically ill as the telegram had suggested.
Bjorn let out a sigh of relief and despair, catching his breath. Duchess Arsene's gaze, silently watching her grandson, was filled with a warmth that echoed the lights in the room.
"Hey, you don't have to make that face. As you can see, I'm fine."
"Grandma."
Instead of his usual witty retort, Bjorn simply called out to her with a sigh. The anxiety that had gripped him the entire way here didn't ease even when he saw his grandmother, who was smiling brightly.
Duchess Arsene is in critical condition.
The news reached Bjorn in the afternoon, after a hectic day of work, as he returned to Schwerin Palace. Madame Fitz, waiting for him at the entrance, personally delivered the telegram and urged him to go to the Arsene mansion. Bjorn then boarded his carriage and rode there.
“It’s just a cold.”
“Pneumonia isn’t just a cold, Grandma.”
"Old people's colds are always a bit noisy. The butler's extravagant behavior has resulted in a rather noisy cold."
Bjorn, who had been watching Duchess Arsene as if she were talking about someone else, burst into laughter. Charlotte, who had been hovering at his feet, meowed, as if in agreement with him.
Duchess Arsene watched Bjorn with dimly opened eyes. The way he stroked the cat, whose name he hadn't known for ten years and whose name he likely never will, felt quite affectionate.
Duchess Arsene let out a sigh mixed with excitement and smiled slightly.
Bjorn was that kind of man. Perhaps the day would never come when he would recognize Charlotte's name. But that's why she was all the more surprised by her grandson's choice.
A man like that liked a woman.
Duchess Arsene held a cautious hope, knowing full well what it would mean for Bjorn to sacrifice his pride to win back his wife. Of course, at the time, she hadn't anticipated Bjorn's romantic ineptitude.
Unlike his father, she thought he was exceptionally talented, but this is it. The more she looked at him, the more she realized he was the son of Philippe Dneister. Those immature Dneister wolves, using their excellent facades to their own detriment. Still, watching her grandson act like a boy in the midst of his first love wasn't all that bad.
How much more time is left?
These days, there have been many moments when she's felt like a stricken old man. When she suddenly developed a fever, the attending doctor rushed to her door, and her butler sent a telegram to a relative informing her of her critical condition, she's often felt a sense of weakness, wondering if she might not make it to tomorrow.
It was a life without regrets, but if she had to indulge in one last desire, it would be Bjorn. He was like a sore thumb.
She wanted to see her beloved grandson living happily with his beloved wife. Then, she felt like she could dance the polka and depart for the afterlife.
Duchess Arsene, taking a sip of warm water to moisten her parched lips, rang the bell to summon her butler. First, she had to correct the false rumor that the eccentric old man was about to be laid in a coffin.
"This."
Duchess Arsene let out a short sigh as she reviewed the list of those who had received the wrong telegram.
"For a child so far away to hear such nonsense? You've truly been diligent."
“I’m sorry. You were someone the Madam cherished so much...”
She nodded to the butler, who was hesitating and explaining, then slowly turned her head to face Bjorn.
“It seems that this unintentional rumor has helped your frustrating love life.”
She smiled, wiggling her eyebrows, and handed the list she was holding to Bjorn.
“Consider this a gift to apologize for surprising you today.”
“Did Erna also receive that telegram?”
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he looked over the list.
"So that's what happened. Since I told her I was dying, that good girl will definitely come to visit. I'll let you know when I hear from Erna. Oh, and if you want, of course."
She tilted her head slightly and stared at Bjorn.
“What do you think, Bjorn?”
Her eyes sparkled with a faint playfulness as she calmly asked a question to which she already knew the answer.
Erna woke up as the thick darkness was gradually fading away.
The train continued its journey to Schwerin, running nonstop through the night. Barring any delays, it would reach its destination before noon.
Erna rose from her seat, careful not to wake Lisa, who was sleeping next to her. Stepping outside, the damp, cool air typical of rainy days enveloped her. The second-class corridor was as quiet as a mouse, as if everyone was in deep sleep.
Erna leaned her forehead against the cold glass window, staring at the scenery passing by. The rain that had been falling steadily suddenly turned into sleet and began to fall.
When she heard the news that Duchess Arsene was in critical condition, her heart sank. In this unfamiliar and uncertain world, she was the one who understood her heart more deeply than anyone else.
Even after Erna fled to Burford, Duchess Arsene continued to send letters frequently. Unlike other royal family members, she never mentioned Bjorn. Instead, her letters were thoughtful, simply asking about her well-being and current situation, expressing concern. The feelings behind them, which she couldn't quite put into words, were thus conveyed even more clearly.
Erna knew how much Duchess Arsene loved Bjorn and how desperately she wanted to prevent their divorce. But Erna had to force herself to ignore her feelings, unable to give her the answer she wanted.
Thinking about her feelings after receiving a casual reply, a pang of pain lingered in her chest. And then, as if by chance, she thought of Bjorn.
If something were to go wrong with the Duchess of Arsene, he would suffer greatly. The regret of not being able to show his grandmother, who loved him so much, a happy life, would deeply hurt her. Erna seemed to understand his feelings well. If Baroness Baden were to ever pass away, she, too, would feel the same regret.
What is our best?
Erna lifted her forehead from the train window, mulling over a question that eluded her for a long time. The weather was getting colder, and the sleet had already turned to white snowflakes.
Erna leaned back against the train window, looking down at the ticklish back of her hand. She pressed hard against the spot where Bjorn's lips had touched, and, ironically, her heart ached.
Even if she fell in love with him again, that love wouldn't solve everything. Being the First Princess of Letzen and the Grand Duchess of Schwerin, the wife of Bjorn Dneister, meant bearing the weight of that position. She couldn't follow in the footsteps of that reckless girl who had become unhappy because she longed for love as if it were everything.
Will she ever be strong enough to bear the weight of that life?
Erna, who had been quietly rubbing the back of her hand, now flushed red, turned her head and looked out the window of the corridor. The train, having passed through barren fields and small towns, was now passing through a mountainous region.
“Why are you here?”
The door to the guest room creaked open, and Lisa's sleepy voice was heard. Erna quickly hid her right hand behind her back and straightened her posture.
While she hesitated, unsure of what to say, Lisa came over to her. The two of them leaned against the rattling train window and stared blankly at each other for a long time.
“Your Highness, by any chance again...”
Lisa's gaze sharpened as she examined Erna.
"No."
Erna, flustered, flinched and gave a firm answer. It occurred to her that a quick denial would make her seem even more suspicious, but it was only after Lisa had already nitpicked.
“No, that’s not true! Right? Right?”
"No!"
“Oh my. Look at this. You already know without me asking.”
Erna, losing confidence in her ability to withstand Lisa's persistent interrogation, took a step forward as if fleeing. Just as she opened the door, a terrifying roar, as if the entire world were shaking, echoed.
“What the heck is this...”
Before Lisa, who had been chasing after them, could even finish her words, a metallic squeak, an ear-splitting noise, was heard, and the train began to shake.
“Your Highness!”
The moment Lisa screamed and hugged Erna, the derailed train tilted.
The sound of breaking glass and the screams of passengers echoed sharply through the thick fog and falling snow.
Bjorn headed for the VIP waiting room of the station, not the platform. The attendant, startled by this unprecedented development, escorted him with bewildered expressions.
“When my wife arrives, guide her here.”
Sitting in a chair by the fireplace, Bjorn gave an unexpected command. Even he found it ridiculous, so it was no wonder the attendant looked surprised.
“So, you’re telling me to bring the Grand Duchess here, to where the Prince is?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Bjorn opened his pocket watch and checked the time, nodding cheerfully.
Although his expression was still confused, the servant followed his orders with utmost courtesy and left the VIP room. The nobles, who had been glancing at him in disbelief, finally rushed over and bowed their heads.
Bjorn rose from his seat and exchanged polite, formal greetings. It was quite a hassle, but he'd already been prepared for it when he decided to do it, so it wasn't surprising.
When the Prince appeared on the station platform, there was bound to be a commotion. Erna, who had no idea he was waiting, would undoubtedly be overcome with confusion and fear.
As the nobles who had exchanged raucous greetings returned to their seats one by one, Bjorn also returned to his chair. The clock had already ticked to the hour when Erna's train was scheduled to arrive.
Erna is coming.
Thinking about it made him feel a little strange. Of course, she was just visiting him after hearing bad news. She wasn't going to return to him.
Ten minutes after the scheduled arrival time, Bjorn began to fiddle with the armrests of his chair impatiently. The delay was, of course, within the acceptable range. It would take this much time to find Erna on the crowded platform and bring her here. But ten minutes passed. Another ten minutes passed, and the attendant still hadn't returned.
Bjorn, his last bit of patience gone, stood up and grabbed his coat and cane. It was then that a thoughtful servant rushed in.
“Your Highness! There has been an accident! There has been an accident!”
Everyone gathered in the VIP room focused their attention on his scream-like voice.
Bjorn turned around and stared at him, his eyes demanding an explanation. Panting, he finally spoke after a long pause.
"I heard there was a landslide in the mountains of the Midwest this morning. It caused a major train derailment. And that... that was the very train Her Highness was on, Your Highness!"
"You're here, Bjorn. I hear your love life hasn't been going so smoothly."
Duchess Arsene, whose eyes met Bjorn's, offered a mischievous smile and a joke. While her face was clearly aching, she didn't appear as critically ill as the telegram had suggested.
Bjorn let out a sigh of relief and despair, catching his breath. Duchess Arsene's gaze, silently watching her grandson, was filled with a warmth that echoed the lights in the room.
"Hey, you don't have to make that face. As you can see, I'm fine."
"Grandma."
Instead of his usual witty retort, Bjorn simply called out to her with a sigh. The anxiety that had gripped him the entire way here didn't ease even when he saw his grandmother, who was smiling brightly.
Duchess Arsene is in critical condition.
The news reached Bjorn in the afternoon, after a hectic day of work, as he returned to Schwerin Palace. Madame Fitz, waiting for him at the entrance, personally delivered the telegram and urged him to go to the Arsene mansion. Bjorn then boarded his carriage and rode there.
“It’s just a cold.”
“Pneumonia isn’t just a cold, Grandma.”
"Old people's colds are always a bit noisy. The butler's extravagant behavior has resulted in a rather noisy cold."
Bjorn, who had been watching Duchess Arsene as if she were talking about someone else, burst into laughter. Charlotte, who had been hovering at his feet, meowed, as if in agreement with him.
Duchess Arsene watched Bjorn with dimly opened eyes. The way he stroked the cat, whose name he hadn't known for ten years and whose name he likely never will, felt quite affectionate.
Duchess Arsene let out a sigh mixed with excitement and smiled slightly.
Bjorn was that kind of man. Perhaps the day would never come when he would recognize Charlotte's name. But that's why she was all the more surprised by her grandson's choice.
A man like that liked a woman.
Duchess Arsene held a cautious hope, knowing full well what it would mean for Bjorn to sacrifice his pride to win back his wife. Of course, at the time, she hadn't anticipated Bjorn's romantic ineptitude.
Unlike his father, she thought he was exceptionally talented, but this is it. The more she looked at him, the more she realized he was the son of Philippe Dneister. Those immature Dneister wolves, using their excellent facades to their own detriment. Still, watching her grandson act like a boy in the midst of his first love wasn't all that bad.
How much more time is left?
These days, there have been many moments when she's felt like a stricken old man. When she suddenly developed a fever, the attending doctor rushed to her door, and her butler sent a telegram to a relative informing her of her critical condition, she's often felt a sense of weakness, wondering if she might not make it to tomorrow.
It was a life without regrets, but if she had to indulge in one last desire, it would be Bjorn. He was like a sore thumb.
She wanted to see her beloved grandson living happily with his beloved wife. Then, she felt like she could dance the polka and depart for the afterlife.
Duchess Arsene, taking a sip of warm water to moisten her parched lips, rang the bell to summon her butler. First, she had to correct the false rumor that the eccentric old man was about to be laid in a coffin.
"This."
Duchess Arsene let out a short sigh as she reviewed the list of those who had received the wrong telegram.
"For a child so far away to hear such nonsense? You've truly been diligent."
“I’m sorry. You were someone the Madam cherished so much...”
She nodded to the butler, who was hesitating and explaining, then slowly turned her head to face Bjorn.
“It seems that this unintentional rumor has helped your frustrating love life.”
She smiled, wiggling her eyebrows, and handed the list she was holding to Bjorn.
“Consider this a gift to apologize for surprising you today.”
“Did Erna also receive that telegram?”
Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he looked over the list.
"So that's what happened. Since I told her I was dying, that good girl will definitely come to visit. I'll let you know when I hear from Erna. Oh, and if you want, of course."
She tilted her head slightly and stared at Bjorn.
“What do you think, Bjorn?”
Her eyes sparkled with a faint playfulness as she calmly asked a question to which she already knew the answer.
***
Erna woke up as the thick darkness was gradually fading away.
The train continued its journey to Schwerin, running nonstop through the night. Barring any delays, it would reach its destination before noon.
Erna rose from her seat, careful not to wake Lisa, who was sleeping next to her. Stepping outside, the damp, cool air typical of rainy days enveloped her. The second-class corridor was as quiet as a mouse, as if everyone was in deep sleep.
Erna leaned her forehead against the cold glass window, staring at the scenery passing by. The rain that had been falling steadily suddenly turned into sleet and began to fall.
When she heard the news that Duchess Arsene was in critical condition, her heart sank. In this unfamiliar and uncertain world, she was the one who understood her heart more deeply than anyone else.
Even after Erna fled to Burford, Duchess Arsene continued to send letters frequently. Unlike other royal family members, she never mentioned Bjorn. Instead, her letters were thoughtful, simply asking about her well-being and current situation, expressing concern. The feelings behind them, which she couldn't quite put into words, were thus conveyed even more clearly.
Erna knew how much Duchess Arsene loved Bjorn and how desperately she wanted to prevent their divorce. But Erna had to force herself to ignore her feelings, unable to give her the answer she wanted.
Thinking about her feelings after receiving a casual reply, a pang of pain lingered in her chest. And then, as if by chance, she thought of Bjorn.
If something were to go wrong with the Duchess of Arsene, he would suffer greatly. The regret of not being able to show his grandmother, who loved him so much, a happy life, would deeply hurt her. Erna seemed to understand his feelings well. If Baroness Baden were to ever pass away, she, too, would feel the same regret.
What is our best?
Erna lifted her forehead from the train window, mulling over a question that eluded her for a long time. The weather was getting colder, and the sleet had already turned to white snowflakes.
Erna leaned back against the train window, looking down at the ticklish back of her hand. She pressed hard against the spot where Bjorn's lips had touched, and, ironically, her heart ached.
Even if she fell in love with him again, that love wouldn't solve everything. Being the First Princess of Letzen and the Grand Duchess of Schwerin, the wife of Bjorn Dneister, meant bearing the weight of that position. She couldn't follow in the footsteps of that reckless girl who had become unhappy because she longed for love as if it were everything.
Will she ever be strong enough to bear the weight of that life?
Erna, who had been quietly rubbing the back of her hand, now flushed red, turned her head and looked out the window of the corridor. The train, having passed through barren fields and small towns, was now passing through a mountainous region.
“Why are you here?”
The door to the guest room creaked open, and Lisa's sleepy voice was heard. Erna quickly hid her right hand behind her back and straightened her posture.
While she hesitated, unsure of what to say, Lisa came over to her. The two of them leaned against the rattling train window and stared blankly at each other for a long time.
“Your Highness, by any chance again...”
Lisa's gaze sharpened as she examined Erna.
"No."
Erna, flustered, flinched and gave a firm answer. It occurred to her that a quick denial would make her seem even more suspicious, but it was only after Lisa had already nitpicked.
“No, that’s not true! Right? Right?”
"No!"
“Oh my. Look at this. You already know without me asking.”
Erna, losing confidence in her ability to withstand Lisa's persistent interrogation, took a step forward as if fleeing. Just as she opened the door, a terrifying roar, as if the entire world were shaking, echoed.
“What the heck is this...”
Before Lisa, who had been chasing after them, could even finish her words, a metallic squeak, an ear-splitting noise, was heard, and the train began to shake.
“Your Highness!”
The moment Lisa screamed and hugged Erna, the derailed train tilted.
The sound of breaking glass and the screams of passengers echoed sharply through the thick fog and falling snow.
***
Bjorn headed for the VIP waiting room of the station, not the platform. The attendant, startled by this unprecedented development, escorted him with bewildered expressions.
“When my wife arrives, guide her here.”
Sitting in a chair by the fireplace, Bjorn gave an unexpected command. Even he found it ridiculous, so it was no wonder the attendant looked surprised.
“So, you’re telling me to bring the Grand Duchess here, to where the Prince is?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Bjorn opened his pocket watch and checked the time, nodding cheerfully.
Although his expression was still confused, the servant followed his orders with utmost courtesy and left the VIP room. The nobles, who had been glancing at him in disbelief, finally rushed over and bowed their heads.
Bjorn rose from his seat and exchanged polite, formal greetings. It was quite a hassle, but he'd already been prepared for it when he decided to do it, so it wasn't surprising.
When the Prince appeared on the station platform, there was bound to be a commotion. Erna, who had no idea he was waiting, would undoubtedly be overcome with confusion and fear.
As the nobles who had exchanged raucous greetings returned to their seats one by one, Bjorn also returned to his chair. The clock had already ticked to the hour when Erna's train was scheduled to arrive.
Erna is coming.
Thinking about it made him feel a little strange. Of course, she was just visiting him after hearing bad news. She wasn't going to return to him.
Ten minutes after the scheduled arrival time, Bjorn began to fiddle with the armrests of his chair impatiently. The delay was, of course, within the acceptable range. It would take this much time to find Erna on the crowded platform and bring her here. But ten minutes passed. Another ten minutes passed, and the attendant still hadn't returned.
Bjorn, his last bit of patience gone, stood up and grabbed his coat and cane. It was then that a thoughtful servant rushed in.
“Your Highness! There has been an accident! There has been an accident!”
Everyone gathered in the VIP room focused their attention on his scream-like voice.
Bjorn turned around and stared at him, his eyes demanding an explanation. Panting, he finally spoke after a long pause.
"I heard there was a landslide in the mountains of the Midwest this morning. It caused a major train derailment. And that... that was the very train Her Highness was on, Your Highness!"
Comments
Post a Comment