150. Words Unsaid
The sound of a broken glass falling apart echoed throughout the hellish landscape.
Bjorn strode through the door and into the next room. Shards of broken glass rained down from above, along with the snow.
Bjorn wiped the blood flowing from his bruised cheek with the back of his hand, then threw off his tattered coat and jacket. Then, he began to walk briskly. The carriage was lying flat, forcing him to use the wall between the corridor and the cabin as a platform, but Bjorn didn't hesitate for a moment.
“Erna.”
The name, flowing out with white breath, spread through the dim beams of light streaming in through the gaping window. The snow still showed no signs of stopping.
“Erna!”
The name, which had become a scream of evil, echoed through the tomb-like train.
Even though he slipped and fell on the snow-covered floor, Bjorn didn't care. He got up, walked again, opened the damaged door to the guest room, and smashed the window.
In some rooms, wounded and dead bodies were found. Even though the sight was too gruesome to bear, Bjorn refused to back down. Clearly, even with his own eyes, his mind couldn't properly grasp the image. He could only see Erna. Only that woman.
“It’s dangerous, Prince! We’ll handle it!”
Just as they stopped in front of the door of the last room in the third compartment, a rescue team arrived. They practically dragged the Prince out of the way, then hurriedly cleared the debris from the landslide and tore open the dented door.
Bjorn, who had been watching the scene blankly from a step back, belatedly realized that his hands were covered in wounds. But that was a good thing.
With a deep sigh, Bjorn wiped the blood from his hands with the snow piled on the train wreckage. It was then that he heard the door open.
“There are people!”
The screams of the startled rescuers sharply scratched at his consciousness.
Bjorn, putting down the blood-soaked snowball, hurried to the door, which resembled a hole in the floor. A person, crushed by the spilled furniture, lay between the chair and the window. She was a small, slender woman with long, soft brown hair.
“Let go.”
Shaking off the hand that was holding him back, Bjorn leaped blindly into the room. With trembling hands, he cleared the broken table and shelves, revealing a woman's strangely twisted body. It was a sight that suggested she was already dead.
Bjorn staggered toward the woman. He carefully turned his face downward, and a sigh of relief escaped him like a groan.
While the rescue team recovered the body, Bjorn left the room. He was drenched in sweat and snow as he headed to the next room, carrying the discarded iron bar and a lantern.
The same thing happened in the next car, and the car after that.
Erna was nowhere to be found.
Bjorn was both relieved and despairing by this revelation. But as he drew nearer to the final compartment, swallowed by the collapsed mountainside and seemingly destined for no survivors, the balance of his emotions began to tilt toward despair. To deny it, Bjorn pushed himself even more frantically through the train.
Erna. Erna. Erna.
The name that was being shouted out loud was soon close to a scream.
Erna's memories, starting from that spring when the cornered country girl came to Schwerin, rose above the distant, despairing scene.
A trophy for a bet that started at a gambling table.
He dismissed it as nothing more than that, but he had never cared about the stakes from the start. It was just money he was going to throw around, telling him to eat and then die. But the reason he's even bothered to take part in that ridiculous bet was purely because of Erna.
The sound of a broken glass falling apart echoed throughout the hellish landscape.
Bjorn strode through the door and into the next room. Shards of broken glass rained down from above, along with the snow.
Bjorn wiped the blood flowing from his bruised cheek with the back of his hand, then threw off his tattered coat and jacket. Then, he began to walk briskly. The carriage was lying flat, forcing him to use the wall between the corridor and the cabin as a platform, but Bjorn didn't hesitate for a moment.
“Erna.”
The name, flowing out with white breath, spread through the dim beams of light streaming in through the gaping window. The snow still showed no signs of stopping.
“Erna!”
The name, which had become a scream of evil, echoed through the tomb-like train.
Even though he slipped and fell on the snow-covered floor, Bjorn didn't care. He got up, walked again, opened the damaged door to the guest room, and smashed the window.
In some rooms, wounded and dead bodies were found. Even though the sight was too gruesome to bear, Bjorn refused to back down. Clearly, even with his own eyes, his mind couldn't properly grasp the image. He could only see Erna. Only that woman.
“It’s dangerous, Prince! We’ll handle it!”
Just as they stopped in front of the door of the last room in the third compartment, a rescue team arrived. They practically dragged the Prince out of the way, then hurriedly cleared the debris from the landslide and tore open the dented door.
Bjorn, who had been watching the scene blankly from a step back, belatedly realized that his hands were covered in wounds. But that was a good thing.
With a deep sigh, Bjorn wiped the blood from his hands with the snow piled on the train wreckage. It was then that he heard the door open.
“There are people!”
The screams of the startled rescuers sharply scratched at his consciousness.
Bjorn, putting down the blood-soaked snowball, hurried to the door, which resembled a hole in the floor. A person, crushed by the spilled furniture, lay between the chair and the window. She was a small, slender woman with long, soft brown hair.
“Let go.”
Shaking off the hand that was holding him back, Bjorn leaped blindly into the room. With trembling hands, he cleared the broken table and shelves, revealing a woman's strangely twisted body. It was a sight that suggested she was already dead.
Bjorn staggered toward the woman. He carefully turned his face downward, and a sigh of relief escaped him like a groan.
While the rescue team recovered the body, Bjorn left the room. He was drenched in sweat and snow as he headed to the next room, carrying the discarded iron bar and a lantern.
The same thing happened in the next car, and the car after that.
Erna was nowhere to be found.
Bjorn was both relieved and despairing by this revelation. But as he drew nearer to the final compartment, swallowed by the collapsed mountainside and seemingly destined for no survivors, the balance of his emotions began to tilt toward despair. To deny it, Bjorn pushed himself even more frantically through the train.
Erna. Erna. Erna.
The name that was being shouted out loud was soon close to a scream.
Erna's memories, starting from that spring when the cornered country girl came to Schwerin, rose above the distant, despairing scene.
A trophy for a bet that started at a gambling table.
He dismissed it as nothing more than that, but he had never cared about the stakes from the start. It was just money he was going to throw around, telling him to eat and then die. But the reason he's even bothered to take part in that ridiculous bet was purely because of Erna.
He wanted to have that woman.
The bettors. The old men and scum of the marriage market, brought together by Walter Hardy. Pavel Lore. Whoever it was, he didn't want to give her up to another bastard.
Was that love?
He doesn't know.
Making excuses like that now would be nothing more than a lame excuse. It was clear that he'd dismissed it as a passing interest. It was also difficult to deny the accusation that he'd treated her like something he'd bought with his own money.
But why couldn't I let you go?
Well, he doesn't know about that either.
Even on the day he won the bet he'd made and was set to leave with Pavel Lore, he intervened and snatched the woman away. He even drew the curtains to block her eyes.
If he had kept Erna in his home, she would have been unaware of the rumors that would have spread and how those rumors would have hindered her future. At the time, he hadn't realized it, but looking back, he knew it all from the beginning. He had acted knowingly. Looking back, it seemed he had unconsciously forced himself into a situation where he had no choice but to marry Erna. He had been making up excuses to convince himself that he had no choice.
The marriage proposal was no different. A woman who would quietly, harmlessly, and beautifully fill the Grand Duchess's shoes and bring peace to his life. He proposed with such a plausible pretext, but in reality, it was all nothing more than self-deception.
If the chip he threw that day had come out wrong, would he have let Erna go?
The answer to that question was actually already known at that moment.
No. Absolutely not.
“Erna!”
Kicking open the door to the next compartment, Bjorn screamed her name. The third-class compartment, with its undivided rooms, was even more gruesome.
Bjorn entered, his breath heavy with the smell of iron. He searched among the rescue teams, searching for a small, brown-haired woman. It had long since become impossible to fathom how he would look like that.
Erna had said he saw her as a shield, protecting his peaceful life from Gladys. He, too, had assumed that was the case. Public opinion, demanding a reunion with his ex-wife, was agonizing and tiresome. But did he really marry again because he couldn't handle Gladys Hartford?
Bjorn already knew the answer to that question.
No, Erna. Not at all.
“Erna!”
White snowflakes fell upon Bjorn, who called out the name that must be answered.
Bjorn looked up, his eyes blank. Snow was falling quietly through the train's walls, which were torn like sheets of paper.
Erna.
His eyes grew hot at the name that burst out like a hollow laugh.
Bjorn chuckled in amazement, looking around at his despairing surroundings. Suddenly, his vision blurred, and the lantern lights appeared as a hazy blur. The snow fluttering in the hazy landscape was so beautiful that it made him laugh again.
The endlessly soft and cold snowflakes that had settled on his wet eyelashes and cheeks soon melted and disappeared without a trace.
Don't go.
He wanted to plead like that night.
This couldn't be happening. I hadn't even said I loved her yet. Wasn't it a cruel foul to deny her even that?
Bjorn slowly wiped his wet face with a trembling hand, his eyes sinking even colder as he gazed at the door leading to the final compartment. That was where Erna was. That fact erased the horror he'd seen outside.
“That’s not okay!”
A thoughtful rescue worker stopped Bjorn as he approached the next compartment's door, which was surrounded by barbed wire.
“That room is completely flooded.”
“Get out of the way.”
“There are no survivors, Your Highness!”
“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!”
Bjorn pushed him away as if possessed by something and walked towards the door.
Now there was only one space left.
So it didn't make sense that there were no survivors in that room. After all, they hadn't found Erna yet. Isn't that where she should be?
“It’s dangerous!”
The rescue team that had chased him caught him as he pushed against the railing. However, his strength alone was not enough to stop Bjorn, who was lashing out like a cornered animal. Finally, two more men arrived, and they were able to drag the Prince out of the wrecked train.
“Bjorn!”
A familiar voice was heard among the men surrounding him.
Bjorn turned his narrowed eyes and looked at the place. Leonied, her face hard, was approaching him.
“Calm down, Bjorn.”
Leonid, who had bitten the rescuers, grabbed Bjorn's shoulder.
“Leo?”
Bjorn finally looked at Leonid, who stood before him, his eyes now clearly focused. The cloud-covered sky beyond him had now taken on a hazy gray hue. Only then did Bjorn realize that a night had already passed.
“What the heck is this...”
Leonid sighed, trailing off.
He's already heard about the madness Bjorn was wreaking, but seeing his brother's condition with his own eyes was even more horrifying and devastating. Had he not known the circumstances beforehand, he might have believed Bjorn had been seriously injured.
“Let go of this, Leo.”
Bjorn slowly closed his bloodshot eyes, then opened them again, shaking off his touch and turning away. His face was worn to the bone, but his gaze remained eerily sharp. It was as if he were possessed by madness.
“The Grand Duchess isn’t there, Bjorn!”
Leonid shouted urgently and blocked Bjorn's path as he headed towards the overturned train again.
"Let's go."
Leonid, who had taken off his coat in a hurry and wrapped it around Bjorn, continued speaking calmly.
“I found the Grand Duchess.”
The bettors. The old men and scum of the marriage market, brought together by Walter Hardy. Pavel Lore. Whoever it was, he didn't want to give her up to another bastard.
Was that love?
He doesn't know.
Making excuses like that now would be nothing more than a lame excuse. It was clear that he'd dismissed it as a passing interest. It was also difficult to deny the accusation that he'd treated her like something he'd bought with his own money.
But why couldn't I let you go?
Well, he doesn't know about that either.
Even on the day he won the bet he'd made and was set to leave with Pavel Lore, he intervened and snatched the woman away. He even drew the curtains to block her eyes.
If he had kept Erna in his home, she would have been unaware of the rumors that would have spread and how those rumors would have hindered her future. At the time, he hadn't realized it, but looking back, he knew it all from the beginning. He had acted knowingly. Looking back, it seemed he had unconsciously forced himself into a situation where he had no choice but to marry Erna. He had been making up excuses to convince himself that he had no choice.
The marriage proposal was no different. A woman who would quietly, harmlessly, and beautifully fill the Grand Duchess's shoes and bring peace to his life. He proposed with such a plausible pretext, but in reality, it was all nothing more than self-deception.
If the chip he threw that day had come out wrong, would he have let Erna go?
The answer to that question was actually already known at that moment.
No. Absolutely not.
“Erna!”
Kicking open the door to the next compartment, Bjorn screamed her name. The third-class compartment, with its undivided rooms, was even more gruesome.
Bjorn entered, his breath heavy with the smell of iron. He searched among the rescue teams, searching for a small, brown-haired woman. It had long since become impossible to fathom how he would look like that.
Erna had said he saw her as a shield, protecting his peaceful life from Gladys. He, too, had assumed that was the case. Public opinion, demanding a reunion with his ex-wife, was agonizing and tiresome. But did he really marry again because he couldn't handle Gladys Hartford?
Bjorn already knew the answer to that question.
No, Erna. Not at all.
“Erna!”
White snowflakes fell upon Bjorn, who called out the name that must be answered.
Bjorn looked up, his eyes blank. Snow was falling quietly through the train's walls, which were torn like sheets of paper.
Erna.
His eyes grew hot at the name that burst out like a hollow laugh.
Bjorn chuckled in amazement, looking around at his despairing surroundings. Suddenly, his vision blurred, and the lantern lights appeared as a hazy blur. The snow fluttering in the hazy landscape was so beautiful that it made him laugh again.
The endlessly soft and cold snowflakes that had settled on his wet eyelashes and cheeks soon melted and disappeared without a trace.
Don't go.
He wanted to plead like that night.
This couldn't be happening. I hadn't even said I loved her yet. Wasn't it a cruel foul to deny her even that?
Bjorn slowly wiped his wet face with a trembling hand, his eyes sinking even colder as he gazed at the door leading to the final compartment. That was where Erna was. That fact erased the horror he'd seen outside.
“That’s not okay!”
A thoughtful rescue worker stopped Bjorn as he approached the next compartment's door, which was surrounded by barbed wire.
“That room is completely flooded.”
“Get out of the way.”
“There are no survivors, Your Highness!”
“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!”
Bjorn pushed him away as if possessed by something and walked towards the door.
Now there was only one space left.
So it didn't make sense that there were no survivors in that room. After all, they hadn't found Erna yet. Isn't that where she should be?
“It’s dangerous!”
The rescue team that had chased him caught him as he pushed against the railing. However, his strength alone was not enough to stop Bjorn, who was lashing out like a cornered animal. Finally, two more men arrived, and they were able to drag the Prince out of the wrecked train.
“Bjorn!”
A familiar voice was heard among the men surrounding him.
Bjorn turned his narrowed eyes and looked at the place. Leonied, her face hard, was approaching him.
“Calm down, Bjorn.”
Leonid, who had bitten the rescuers, grabbed Bjorn's shoulder.
“Leo?”
Bjorn finally looked at Leonid, who stood before him, his eyes now clearly focused. The cloud-covered sky beyond him had now taken on a hazy gray hue. Only then did Bjorn realize that a night had already passed.
“What the heck is this...”
Leonid sighed, trailing off.
He's already heard about the madness Bjorn was wreaking, but seeing his brother's condition with his own eyes was even more horrifying and devastating. Had he not known the circumstances beforehand, he might have believed Bjorn had been seriously injured.
“Let go of this, Leo.”
Bjorn slowly closed his bloodshot eyes, then opened them again, shaking off his touch and turning away. His face was worn to the bone, but his gaze remained eerily sharp. It was as if he were possessed by madness.
“The Grand Duchess isn’t there, Bjorn!”
Leonid shouted urgently and blocked Bjorn's path as he headed towards the overturned train again.
"Let's go."
Leonid, who had taken off his coat in a hurry and wrapped it around Bjorn, continued speaking calmly.
“I found the Grand Duchess.”
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