149. The name of that emotion
A train from Schwerin arrived at the station in the central city of Kassen, the site of a derailment. The platform was quickly engulfed in chaos, with the distraught families of passengers rushing to their aid, the grim-faced rescue workers, and supplies spilling out of the cargo cars.
Bjorn stepped off the train with a blank expression. The ear-piercing noise and cold, damp air surged forward with ferocity.
Bjorn, his eyes forced open, strode briskly across the platform. His stride was effortless, as if oblivious to the tangled, chaotic crowd before him. The attendant hurriedly followed the Prince. There was no time to control the crowd or secure the path. The best he could do was to keep up with the Prince, no matter what.
Prince Bjorn, upon hearing the news of the Grand Duchess's train derailment, reacted surprisingly calmly. He met with the stationmaster to confirm the facts and patiently waited for more detailed news to arrive from the city where the accident occurred.
Just as he was beginning to feel bewildered by the sight of him, who seemed anything but a husband whose wife had suffered a horrific accident, another urgent report arrived. The accident had occurred when the walls of a retaining wall built on a slope prone to landslides collapsed, causing the derailed train to capsize. Some cars were buried under the collapsed debris, so the casualties were expected to be significant. However, the rescue operation was being delayed due to the inclement weather, which included repeated snowfall, rain, and thick fog.
'Is the down line operational?'
Bjorn, who had been listening without moving a muscle, finally spoke after the stationmaster's report was complete. His voice was so chillingly cold that it felt like a chill.
'Yes. One is scheduled to depart soon...'
Before the stationmaster could even finish his embarrassed reply, Bjorn stood up. The resulting impact shook the table, spilling the tea he'd left untouched. The shattered sound of the teacup crashing to the floor echoed through the room, and Bjorn was already running out the door of the stationmaster's office.
Bjorn, sprinting through the crowd of people, arrived at the platform where a downbound train was waiting in no time. The attendant, who had scrambled after him, grabbed the coat and other belongings he had left behind and barely managed to board the Prince's train.
All the way from Schwerin to Kassen, Bjorn remained silent, his expression unwavering. His cold countenance, betraying no emotional turmoil, seemed almost like that of a god from the underworld. The servant, horrified by the chill, clenched his jaw, and an unbearable silence fell over their room.
“Prince! Prince!”
The servant, seeing the Prince recklessly stepping out into the train, ran, calling out to him at the top of his lungs. He barely caught up with him, his breath tinged with the stench of iron, flowing out raggedly.
“Just a moment, if you wait, I will inform Kassen City of the Prince’s procession and request their cooperation...”
"No."
Bjorn cut him off without a second thought.
“I don’t have time for that.”
With those words, spoken with a sigh, Bjorn resumed his run. He reached the cargo depot behind the station, where, as expected, wagons were waiting to transport supplies to the accident site. Bjorn approached without hesitation.
“Can I join you?”
Bjorn politely requested, blocking the man's path as he attempted to climb onto the wagon's driver's seat. His face crumpled in surprise.
"Look, young man. If you need a stagecoach, come out to the square. You know what's going on here..."
“We need to go to the place where the train accident occurred.”
Bjorn, who was about to scold his rudeness, explained urgently.
“My wife...”
Bjorn's eyes, which had always been calm, began to waver little by little.
“My wife boarded that train.”
Bjorn swallowed his heavy breath and continued speaking in an even lower voice.
“Yee. This is true.”
The coachman looked around, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. As the carriages, ready to depart one by one, began to move, the atmosphere in the freight depot grew even more chaotic.
“If you don’t mind being uncomfortable and struggling with luggage, then get on.”
He sighed as if he had no choice and pointed to the carriage with his eyes.
After a polite bow, Bjorn climbed into the carriage laden with first aid supplies without hesitation. The attendant, stunned by the absurdity unfolding before his eyes, followed him.
The carriage heading to the scene of the accident started moving as soon as the door closed.
“Your Highness!”
The terrified cries of the Kassen market shook the barracks where the command center was set up.
When he heard that someone impersonating the Prince had broken in and was demanding a list of rescuers, he rushed over, only to find the real Prince, Bjorn Dneister, standing before him.
“Everyone, get out of the way! Hurry up!”
As he issued a stern command, those blocking the Prince's path backed away. Mayor Kassen, finally catching his breath, bowed his head several times in apology before ushering the Prince into the command center.
“I’m sorry. I just heard that Her Highness boarded the train that was involved in an accident...”
"The list of rescuers. Where is it?"
The Prince got to the point, as if to say that he had no intention of even observing the minimum formalities.
Mayor Kassen glanced at his secretary, seemingly embarrassed. Judging by his own gloomy expression, it was clear that he hadn't yet achieved anything significant. But he couldn't ignore the Prince's orders. Feeling desperate, he handed over the list his secretary had given him. The Prince snatched it from his hand.
As he unfolded the list, the command center fell into a deathly silence. Only the shrill sound of paper being shuffled sharply cut through the silence.
Rescuers. Injured. Dead.
Erna's name wasn't in any of the boxes. No matter how many times he checked, it was the same. Despair, relief, and fear were a jumbled mix in Bjorn's eyes, staring blankly into space.
Bjorn returned the list with a firm hand and stepped outside the barracks to survey the scene of the accident. The tail compartment, swallowed by the collapsed mountainside, was buried beneath the fallen earth and rocks, making it difficult to discern its shape. It looked more like a massive grave, buried alive.
Bjorn tried to avoid the scene, turning his gaze away. The sight of the other overturned carriages, crumpled and twisted, was equally horrific.
“Well, first, let’s go inside.”
The mayor who followed behind offered a subtle urging, but Bjorn remained motionless, staring at the hellish landscape. The cold wind carried the cries of those searching for their families and the screams of the injured being rescued and carried out. Occasionally, a stretcher covered in a white sheet, presumably meant to carry the dead, would appear.
As darkness fell, the snow that had briefly stopped began to fall again. The dim light from the rescue team seemed hopelessly weak against this horrific night.
“Your Highness.”
Bjorn slowly lowered his gaze, following the soft voice calling him. The attendant holding the umbrella was looking at him with concern. Only then did Bjorn realize that countless people were surrounding him, as if he were being punished.
Bjorn swallowed dryly and turned around to enter the barracks. With each slow step, Erna came to mind.
On the day they parted ways at Baden, Erna, though extremely shy, stayed in his carriage until it was out of sight. The soft brown hair and skirt fluttering in the wind seemed to be a greeting from her, making it difficult to look away.
Even after returning to Schwerin, Bjorn often recalled the days he spent in Burford. That rosy evening, when they watched the snowman melt away together, and Erna. He deeply and quietly remembered those moments when his heart was filled with her.
Bjorn now seemed to know the name of that feeling, that quiet, endlessly warm snow falling deep within his heart. So he thought he could say it. Looking into those beautiful blue eyes. Without further hesitation, as many times as he could.
Bjorn swallowed the words, their voices lost, and his gaze turned back to the entrance of the barracks. The damned snow was growing heavier. Tonight, it seems, will be difficult. The conversation, exchanged in low voices, rang in his ears like thunder.
Erna.
Every time he repeated that name, he gradually became more and more out of breath.
Through the halo of gray light, Erna appeared. On this cold night, in a corner of the train that had become hell, Erna lay bleeding. She cried, shivering from the cold. Calling for Bjorn, she might be waiting endlessly for him, who never came.
Erna, my wife. My Erna.
Bjorn, panting heavily as if strangled, impulsively stood up and headed out of the barracks. He then ran into the snow, relying on the dim light, toward the train where the slow rescue operation was underway. The voices of those behind him, shocked and trying to stop him, rang out, but Bjorn refused to stop.
He knew the best course of action was to wait patiently. He also knew that such emotional and reckless behavior was wrong. There was no way he could accomplish something that even the rescue team couldn't do.
But Erna is there.
That one reason obliterated all other thoughts. He had to struggle, even if it was pointless. If he sat still and waited, he probably would go mad before the night was over.
“You can’t do this!”
Rescue workers rushed out in surprise, blocking him as he approached the wrecked train. But Bjorn continued forward as if he hadn't heard a word.
After a brief pause and a careful examination of the train, Bjorn approached the first car connected to the engine room. Without hesitation, he climbed onto the collapsed train, clutching the iron bar the rescue team had provided.
“Prince!”
As those who had been pursuing screamed, the sound of frozen glass shattering echoed.
Bjorn jumped down through the window he had shattered with his own hands without hesitation.
A train from Schwerin arrived at the station in the central city of Kassen, the site of a derailment. The platform was quickly engulfed in chaos, with the distraught families of passengers rushing to their aid, the grim-faced rescue workers, and supplies spilling out of the cargo cars.
Bjorn stepped off the train with a blank expression. The ear-piercing noise and cold, damp air surged forward with ferocity.
Bjorn, his eyes forced open, strode briskly across the platform. His stride was effortless, as if oblivious to the tangled, chaotic crowd before him. The attendant hurriedly followed the Prince. There was no time to control the crowd or secure the path. The best he could do was to keep up with the Prince, no matter what.
Prince Bjorn, upon hearing the news of the Grand Duchess's train derailment, reacted surprisingly calmly. He met with the stationmaster to confirm the facts and patiently waited for more detailed news to arrive from the city where the accident occurred.
Just as he was beginning to feel bewildered by the sight of him, who seemed anything but a husband whose wife had suffered a horrific accident, another urgent report arrived. The accident had occurred when the walls of a retaining wall built on a slope prone to landslides collapsed, causing the derailed train to capsize. Some cars were buried under the collapsed debris, so the casualties were expected to be significant. However, the rescue operation was being delayed due to the inclement weather, which included repeated snowfall, rain, and thick fog.
'Is the down line operational?'
Bjorn, who had been listening without moving a muscle, finally spoke after the stationmaster's report was complete. His voice was so chillingly cold that it felt like a chill.
'Yes. One is scheduled to depart soon...'
Before the stationmaster could even finish his embarrassed reply, Bjorn stood up. The resulting impact shook the table, spilling the tea he'd left untouched. The shattered sound of the teacup crashing to the floor echoed through the room, and Bjorn was already running out the door of the stationmaster's office.
Bjorn, sprinting through the crowd of people, arrived at the platform where a downbound train was waiting in no time. The attendant, who had scrambled after him, grabbed the coat and other belongings he had left behind and barely managed to board the Prince's train.
All the way from Schwerin to Kassen, Bjorn remained silent, his expression unwavering. His cold countenance, betraying no emotional turmoil, seemed almost like that of a god from the underworld. The servant, horrified by the chill, clenched his jaw, and an unbearable silence fell over their room.
“Prince! Prince!”
The servant, seeing the Prince recklessly stepping out into the train, ran, calling out to him at the top of his lungs. He barely caught up with him, his breath tinged with the stench of iron, flowing out raggedly.
“Just a moment, if you wait, I will inform Kassen City of the Prince’s procession and request their cooperation...”
"No."
Bjorn cut him off without a second thought.
“I don’t have time for that.”
With those words, spoken with a sigh, Bjorn resumed his run. He reached the cargo depot behind the station, where, as expected, wagons were waiting to transport supplies to the accident site. Bjorn approached without hesitation.
“Can I join you?”
Bjorn politely requested, blocking the man's path as he attempted to climb onto the wagon's driver's seat. His face crumpled in surprise.
"Look, young man. If you need a stagecoach, come out to the square. You know what's going on here..."
“We need to go to the place where the train accident occurred.”
Bjorn, who was about to scold his rudeness, explained urgently.
“My wife...”
Bjorn's eyes, which had always been calm, began to waver little by little.
“My wife boarded that train.”
Bjorn swallowed his heavy breath and continued speaking in an even lower voice.
“Yee. This is true.”
The coachman looked around, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. As the carriages, ready to depart one by one, began to move, the atmosphere in the freight depot grew even more chaotic.
“If you don’t mind being uncomfortable and struggling with luggage, then get on.”
He sighed as if he had no choice and pointed to the carriage with his eyes.
After a polite bow, Bjorn climbed into the carriage laden with first aid supplies without hesitation. The attendant, stunned by the absurdity unfolding before his eyes, followed him.
The carriage heading to the scene of the accident started moving as soon as the door closed.
***
“Your Highness!”
The terrified cries of the Kassen market shook the barracks where the command center was set up.
When he heard that someone impersonating the Prince had broken in and was demanding a list of rescuers, he rushed over, only to find the real Prince, Bjorn Dneister, standing before him.
“Everyone, get out of the way! Hurry up!”
As he issued a stern command, those blocking the Prince's path backed away. Mayor Kassen, finally catching his breath, bowed his head several times in apology before ushering the Prince into the command center.
“I’m sorry. I just heard that Her Highness boarded the train that was involved in an accident...”
"The list of rescuers. Where is it?"
The Prince got to the point, as if to say that he had no intention of even observing the minimum formalities.
Mayor Kassen glanced at his secretary, seemingly embarrassed. Judging by his own gloomy expression, it was clear that he hadn't yet achieved anything significant. But he couldn't ignore the Prince's orders. Feeling desperate, he handed over the list his secretary had given him. The Prince snatched it from his hand.
As he unfolded the list, the command center fell into a deathly silence. Only the shrill sound of paper being shuffled sharply cut through the silence.
Rescuers. Injured. Dead.
Erna's name wasn't in any of the boxes. No matter how many times he checked, it was the same. Despair, relief, and fear were a jumbled mix in Bjorn's eyes, staring blankly into space.
Bjorn returned the list with a firm hand and stepped outside the barracks to survey the scene of the accident. The tail compartment, swallowed by the collapsed mountainside, was buried beneath the fallen earth and rocks, making it difficult to discern its shape. It looked more like a massive grave, buried alive.
Bjorn tried to avoid the scene, turning his gaze away. The sight of the other overturned carriages, crumpled and twisted, was equally horrific.
“Well, first, let’s go inside.”
The mayor who followed behind offered a subtle urging, but Bjorn remained motionless, staring at the hellish landscape. The cold wind carried the cries of those searching for their families and the screams of the injured being rescued and carried out. Occasionally, a stretcher covered in a white sheet, presumably meant to carry the dead, would appear.
As darkness fell, the snow that had briefly stopped began to fall again. The dim light from the rescue team seemed hopelessly weak against this horrific night.
“Your Highness.”
Bjorn slowly lowered his gaze, following the soft voice calling him. The attendant holding the umbrella was looking at him with concern. Only then did Bjorn realize that countless people were surrounding him, as if he were being punished.
Bjorn swallowed dryly and turned around to enter the barracks. With each slow step, Erna came to mind.
On the day they parted ways at Baden, Erna, though extremely shy, stayed in his carriage until it was out of sight. The soft brown hair and skirt fluttering in the wind seemed to be a greeting from her, making it difficult to look away.
Even after returning to Schwerin, Bjorn often recalled the days he spent in Burford. That rosy evening, when they watched the snowman melt away together, and Erna. He deeply and quietly remembered those moments when his heart was filled with her.
Bjorn now seemed to know the name of that feeling, that quiet, endlessly warm snow falling deep within his heart. So he thought he could say it. Looking into those beautiful blue eyes. Without further hesitation, as many times as he could.
Bjorn swallowed the words, their voices lost, and his gaze turned back to the entrance of the barracks. The damned snow was growing heavier. Tonight, it seems, will be difficult. The conversation, exchanged in low voices, rang in his ears like thunder.
Erna.
Every time he repeated that name, he gradually became more and more out of breath.
Through the halo of gray light, Erna appeared. On this cold night, in a corner of the train that had become hell, Erna lay bleeding. She cried, shivering from the cold. Calling for Bjorn, she might be waiting endlessly for him, who never came.
Erna, my wife. My Erna.
Bjorn, panting heavily as if strangled, impulsively stood up and headed out of the barracks. He then ran into the snow, relying on the dim light, toward the train where the slow rescue operation was underway. The voices of those behind him, shocked and trying to stop him, rang out, but Bjorn refused to stop.
He knew the best course of action was to wait patiently. He also knew that such emotional and reckless behavior was wrong. There was no way he could accomplish something that even the rescue team couldn't do.
But Erna is there.
That one reason obliterated all other thoughts. He had to struggle, even if it was pointless. If he sat still and waited, he probably would go mad before the night was over.
“You can’t do this!”
Rescue workers rushed out in surprise, blocking him as he approached the wrecked train. But Bjorn continued forward as if he hadn't heard a word.
After a brief pause and a careful examination of the train, Bjorn approached the first car connected to the engine room. Without hesitation, he climbed onto the collapsed train, clutching the iron bar the rescue team had provided.
“Prince!”
As those who had been pursuing screamed, the sound of frozen glass shattering echoed.
Bjorn jumped down through the window he had shattered with his own hands without hesitation.
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