Side Story 14. The Evening Breeze Gently
The clack-clack sound of the typewriter keys seeped into the clear sunlight that filled the Grand Duchess's room.
Lisa gazed at Erna, who sat at her desk, with renewed admiration. Erna's typing skills had improved beyond comparison to the days when she'd groped and fumbled over her textbook. With each flick of her slender, white fingers, as if dancing, flawless letters were etched onto the white paper.
“The Prince didn’t deliberately leave the work to Your Highness for no reason, did he?”
Lisa, who had been smiling proudly, suddenly frowned at the ominous feeling that had crept over her. It was a law against being too suspicious, but the habits left behind by years of protecting the Grand Duchess, who was persecuted and despised by the entire nation, were not easily broken.
“No. That’s not it.”
Erna paused from typing for a moment and smiled brightly at Lisa, who was looking worried.
"I said I'd take it. It was an easy job, just organizing the list I received."
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Really.”
Erna nodded, reassuring Lisa, and turned a page of paper on the lectern. The sound of paper fluttering echoed behind her, followed by the diligent typing.
The Ladies' Association, which shr joined on the recommendation of Countess Rosier, held a charity event every season. This summer, they were hosting a charity auction to raise funds for the workhouse expansion. Erna's role was to compile a list of items to be donated and send out invitations.
She is becoming a part of this world.
Erna loved the moment when she suddenly realized the truth. She was a bit scared about whether she could do it, but the excitement outweighed that fear.
As the long, early summer afternoon sunlight reached the edge of the desk, Erna picked up her pace and began organizing her list.
By the time she finished this, Bjorn would be back. She had to have dinner with him, then meet with Frau Fitz to discuss the rowing competitions to be held next week on the grounds of Schwerin Castle. This was Leonid's first official appearance, and he was particularly nervous about it.
Erna, having finished organizing the list of items and tucked it away in her drawer, picked up a pen and began writing the invitation. The guest list was surprisingly long, but if she kept writing, she could finish it within the allotted time.
“Are you still harboring such foolish thoughts?”
As the enthusiastic Erna finished her third invitation, a familiar voice suddenly rang out. Startled, she raised her head and saw Bjorn sitting on the edge of the desk.
“Bjorn! When did you get here?”
“You’re quite quick to understand.”
Bjorn chuckled in amazement. He'd thought he'd been playing a prank, unaware that it was right in front of him, but it seemed he'd been completely forgotten, overshadowed by that invitation.
“Let’s go. I have something to show you.”
Bjorn just got up from his desk and held out his hand.
A gift for Erna has arrived.
That was the sole reason he'd returned home earlier than planned. He wanted to show it to his wife as soon as possible. Then, Erna would surely smile like the happiest woman in the world. But the answer Erna gave him, staring intently at him, was completely different from what he'd expected.
"I'm sorry, Bjorn. Could you wait a moment? I'll just finish writing this down."
Having finished speaking, Erna picked up her pen again and began writing the invitation again. Bjorn's laughter, amused by the sound of the pen nib clicking, was interspersed with the sound of the ink.
For days, Erna had been typing away at her typewriter and writing letters whenever she had the chance. Roscher. Clara Roscher, that was the problem.
Erna babbled that name in bed almost every night. It felt as if Clara Roscher's ghost was haunting the Grand Duchess's bedroom, and now Clara Roscher's friend, and her friend's friend, had joined the fray. She'd heard the story of the ladies' club and the charity auction so many times she could almost recite it word for word.
“Use a typewriter.”
Bjorn sighed and gave advice to Erna, who was beginning to write the next invitation.
“I cannot damage the dignity of the Grand Duke’s family with such a receipt-like letter, Bjorn.”
“Then leave it to the servants.”
“That’s not sincere.”
Erna, still focused on the invitation, replied with a rather firm tone.
“No matter how hard you prepare, people don’t seem to notice, Erna.”
Bjorn's gaze, looking down at his wife, now contained a certain amount of old-age concern.
"Most people won't care what you do. Some are ready to nitpick and nitpick no matter what you do. Well, maybe one or two people will notice your foolishness."
“You have a point.”
Only then did Erna raise her head and face Bjorn.
"Still, Bjorn, I'll remember the dedication and effort you put into this. Maybe you will too. That's enough for me."
“Do you think I would remember such useless things?”
“I can’t force you to do that, so I’ll understand if you forget.”
Despite the awkward question, Erna simply smiled brightly and innocently. Then, sitting upright, she held her pen and began writing the next invitation.
Is that chore really that enjoyable?
Bjorn now watched Erna with pure wonder.
Most of the things his wife immersed herself in seemed to him like meaningless toil. But he could vaguely understand that Erna found all of these precious joys.
He didn't dislike Erna these days, with her many questions and desires. The way she immersed herself in new friends and strived to achieve her share of accomplishments was also a testament to this. It felt like he was witnessing the belated growth of a heart that hadn't yet fully matured.
So, maybe this woman in front of him right now is the real Erna.
A quiet yet stubborn woman. She cries, then laughs, then sullenly laughs again. Sometimes she's like a whiny, nagging child, but on the other hand, she's still a lovable, old-fashioned, and well-mannered lady.
With a soft sigh, Bjorn brought a chair and sat down across from Erna's desk. It was only then that he realized the gatekeeper of hell still guarded this room. She seemed to have mastered the art of disguising herself as a still life.
Just go ahead and try it.
Bjorn conveyed the order with a nod. The maid, who had been mumbling and sulking, met his gaze three times before reluctantly withdrawing.
“Is this the end?”
After confirming the closed door, Bjorn sighed quietly and picked up the letter. Erna's eyes widened as she looked up at him.
“Yes. First, here’s the invitation I’m writing for today.”
"Today?"
“If we just work hard for another three days, we’ll be able to finish it all.”
Even when asked in astonishment, Erna remained as serious as ever.
“It looks like they’re holding a charity auction, inviting all the legged things in Schwerin.”
Bjorn smiled resignedly and picked up his pen. It seemed he had no choice but to quickly process this invitation before presenting the gift he'd prepared.
“Are you helping me?”
Erna asked incredulously. The shadows of her long eyelashes, fluttering with each blink of her startled eyes, were beautiful. Her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips were equally beautiful. Life shouldn't be like this, but it was hard to deny that meeting that face brought forth a new tolerance and understanding.
Bjorn, dipping his pen in ink, responded by writing out an invitation to that damn charity auction.
“Just remember one thing, my wife.”
Bjorn solemnly declared, picking up the next piece of stationery with the hand that had put down the completed invitation.
“This is not dignity or sincerity, this is madness.”
It seemed like a definition that could encompass both him and his wife.
The horse was leisurely strolling through the paddock next to the Schwerin Castle stables. It was a beautiful horse with a glossy brown coat.
“Do you like it?”
It was Bjorn who broke the silence first. Erna, who had been standing in front of the fence, observed his words, raised her eyes in surprise, and looked at him.
“Is that what you meant when you said you would show me?”
Bjorn nodded leisurely and gestured, and the stablehand, who had been waiting a distance away, entered the paddock. The horse he had brought stood obediently in front of the fence and faced the Grand Duke and his wife.
“Say hello. It’s yours.”
Bjorn grinned and shoved Erna's frozen back. The Baden lady, who treated calves like puppies, twitched and became nervous in front of a horse.
“What am I saying?”
“You should learn horseback riding.”
“That’s true, but...”
After a long hesitation, Erna finally approached the horse. Bjorn, watching the awkward encounter, smiled softly, like the summer evening breeze.
A beautiful and gentle horse of a size suitable for the small-bodied Grand Duchess to handle.
The horse that met all of those criteria was the young mare standing before Erna right now. She knew that her previous owner, thrilled to have found a waterman, had overcharged her, but she didn't pay much attention.
“Be friendly, Erna. She’s a lady, too.”
As their relationship made little progress, Bjorn slowly approached his wife from behind.
“What does that mean?”
“Look. She's wearing a hat.”
Bjorn nodded to the horse's head with white markings.
“She's wearing gloves too.”
His gaze now turned to the horse's sleekly extended forelegs. From the hooves to a height of about a hand's length, only the two front feet were covered in white fur, giving the horse the appearance of wearing gloves. Erna, who had been looking astonished, soon burst into laughter.
“Yes, she is a lady.”
“That’s right.”
Bjorn took Erna's hand, now slightly relaxed, and allowed her to slowly stroke the horse's mane. The horse silently accepted the clumsy touch, blinking its gentle eyes. She was a fine lady, well worth her price.
“What is this lady’s name?”
Erna, who had gathered enough courage to pat the horse's head herself, asked with sparkling eyes.
“You said it, so you do it.”
“But it’s your gift...”
Erna, who had been making the suggestion cautiously, quickly changed her mind and started to act.
“No. I’ll name it.”
Thinking about the calf Christa, who almost got the name Divorce, it seemed like it would be better for this pretty horse.
As if he understood her intentions, Bjorn burst into a cheerful laugh. Erna, delighted by his laughter, laughed too.
They laughed and laughed like children in a state of excitement. Meanwhile, a gentle evening breeze blew from the western sky, now a rosy hue, and enveloped the two people standing face to face.
“Classes start tomorrow.”
Bjorn gently stroked Erna's disheveled hair. Like the wind on an early summer evening. Like love.
Although the thought of getting on a horse was still daunting and frightening, Erna gathered her courage and nodded.
“Can I really ride a horse well?”
She liked this moment so much that she tried to complain for no reason.
But the answer that came back was far different from what she had expected, and it shocked Erna.
“Since you have a good teacher, wouldn’t you be able to ride well?”
She wanted to ask him not to say such things outside the bedroom, but she was not given the opportunity.
A good teacher came to kiss her, and Erna accepted. It was a promise to herself to become a good student.
The clack-clack sound of the typewriter keys seeped into the clear sunlight that filled the Grand Duchess's room.
Lisa gazed at Erna, who sat at her desk, with renewed admiration. Erna's typing skills had improved beyond comparison to the days when she'd groped and fumbled over her textbook. With each flick of her slender, white fingers, as if dancing, flawless letters were etched onto the white paper.
“The Prince didn’t deliberately leave the work to Your Highness for no reason, did he?”
Lisa, who had been smiling proudly, suddenly frowned at the ominous feeling that had crept over her. It was a law against being too suspicious, but the habits left behind by years of protecting the Grand Duchess, who was persecuted and despised by the entire nation, were not easily broken.
“No. That’s not it.”
Erna paused from typing for a moment and smiled brightly at Lisa, who was looking worried.
"I said I'd take it. It was an easy job, just organizing the list I received."
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Really.”
Erna nodded, reassuring Lisa, and turned a page of paper on the lectern. The sound of paper fluttering echoed behind her, followed by the diligent typing.
The Ladies' Association, which shr joined on the recommendation of Countess Rosier, held a charity event every season. This summer, they were hosting a charity auction to raise funds for the workhouse expansion. Erna's role was to compile a list of items to be donated and send out invitations.
She is becoming a part of this world.
Erna loved the moment when she suddenly realized the truth. She was a bit scared about whether she could do it, but the excitement outweighed that fear.
As the long, early summer afternoon sunlight reached the edge of the desk, Erna picked up her pace and began organizing her list.
By the time she finished this, Bjorn would be back. She had to have dinner with him, then meet with Frau Fitz to discuss the rowing competitions to be held next week on the grounds of Schwerin Castle. This was Leonid's first official appearance, and he was particularly nervous about it.
Erna, having finished organizing the list of items and tucked it away in her drawer, picked up a pen and began writing the invitation. The guest list was surprisingly long, but if she kept writing, she could finish it within the allotted time.
“Are you still harboring such foolish thoughts?”
As the enthusiastic Erna finished her third invitation, a familiar voice suddenly rang out. Startled, she raised her head and saw Bjorn sitting on the edge of the desk.
“Bjorn! When did you get here?”
“You’re quite quick to understand.”
Bjorn chuckled in amazement. He'd thought he'd been playing a prank, unaware that it was right in front of him, but it seemed he'd been completely forgotten, overshadowed by that invitation.
“Let’s go. I have something to show you.”
Bjorn just got up from his desk and held out his hand.
A gift for Erna has arrived.
That was the sole reason he'd returned home earlier than planned. He wanted to show it to his wife as soon as possible. Then, Erna would surely smile like the happiest woman in the world. But the answer Erna gave him, staring intently at him, was completely different from what he'd expected.
"I'm sorry, Bjorn. Could you wait a moment? I'll just finish writing this down."
Having finished speaking, Erna picked up her pen again and began writing the invitation again. Bjorn's laughter, amused by the sound of the pen nib clicking, was interspersed with the sound of the ink.
For days, Erna had been typing away at her typewriter and writing letters whenever she had the chance. Roscher. Clara Roscher, that was the problem.
Erna babbled that name in bed almost every night. It felt as if Clara Roscher's ghost was haunting the Grand Duchess's bedroom, and now Clara Roscher's friend, and her friend's friend, had joined the fray. She'd heard the story of the ladies' club and the charity auction so many times she could almost recite it word for word.
“Use a typewriter.”
Bjorn sighed and gave advice to Erna, who was beginning to write the next invitation.
“I cannot damage the dignity of the Grand Duke’s family with such a receipt-like letter, Bjorn.”
“Then leave it to the servants.”
“That’s not sincere.”
Erna, still focused on the invitation, replied with a rather firm tone.
“No matter how hard you prepare, people don’t seem to notice, Erna.”
Bjorn's gaze, looking down at his wife, now contained a certain amount of old-age concern.
"Most people won't care what you do. Some are ready to nitpick and nitpick no matter what you do. Well, maybe one or two people will notice your foolishness."
“You have a point.”
Only then did Erna raise her head and face Bjorn.
"Still, Bjorn, I'll remember the dedication and effort you put into this. Maybe you will too. That's enough for me."
“Do you think I would remember such useless things?”
“I can’t force you to do that, so I’ll understand if you forget.”
Despite the awkward question, Erna simply smiled brightly and innocently. Then, sitting upright, she held her pen and began writing the next invitation.
Is that chore really that enjoyable?
Bjorn now watched Erna with pure wonder.
Most of the things his wife immersed herself in seemed to him like meaningless toil. But he could vaguely understand that Erna found all of these precious joys.
He didn't dislike Erna these days, with her many questions and desires. The way she immersed herself in new friends and strived to achieve her share of accomplishments was also a testament to this. It felt like he was witnessing the belated growth of a heart that hadn't yet fully matured.
So, maybe this woman in front of him right now is the real Erna.
A quiet yet stubborn woman. She cries, then laughs, then sullenly laughs again. Sometimes she's like a whiny, nagging child, but on the other hand, she's still a lovable, old-fashioned, and well-mannered lady.
With a soft sigh, Bjorn brought a chair and sat down across from Erna's desk. It was only then that he realized the gatekeeper of hell still guarded this room. She seemed to have mastered the art of disguising herself as a still life.
Just go ahead and try it.
Bjorn conveyed the order with a nod. The maid, who had been mumbling and sulking, met his gaze three times before reluctantly withdrawing.
“Is this the end?”
After confirming the closed door, Bjorn sighed quietly and picked up the letter. Erna's eyes widened as she looked up at him.
“Yes. First, here’s the invitation I’m writing for today.”
"Today?"
“If we just work hard for another three days, we’ll be able to finish it all.”
Even when asked in astonishment, Erna remained as serious as ever.
“It looks like they’re holding a charity auction, inviting all the legged things in Schwerin.”
Bjorn smiled resignedly and picked up his pen. It seemed he had no choice but to quickly process this invitation before presenting the gift he'd prepared.
“Are you helping me?”
Erna asked incredulously. The shadows of her long eyelashes, fluttering with each blink of her startled eyes, were beautiful. Her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips were equally beautiful. Life shouldn't be like this, but it was hard to deny that meeting that face brought forth a new tolerance and understanding.
Bjorn, dipping his pen in ink, responded by writing out an invitation to that damn charity auction.
“Just remember one thing, my wife.”
Bjorn solemnly declared, picking up the next piece of stationery with the hand that had put down the completed invitation.
“This is not dignity or sincerity, this is madness.”
It seemed like a definition that could encompass both him and his wife.
***
The horse was leisurely strolling through the paddock next to the Schwerin Castle stables. It was a beautiful horse with a glossy brown coat.
“Do you like it?”
It was Bjorn who broke the silence first. Erna, who had been standing in front of the fence, observed his words, raised her eyes in surprise, and looked at him.
“Is that what you meant when you said you would show me?”
Bjorn nodded leisurely and gestured, and the stablehand, who had been waiting a distance away, entered the paddock. The horse he had brought stood obediently in front of the fence and faced the Grand Duke and his wife.
“Say hello. It’s yours.”
Bjorn grinned and shoved Erna's frozen back. The Baden lady, who treated calves like puppies, twitched and became nervous in front of a horse.
“What am I saying?”
“You should learn horseback riding.”
“That’s true, but...”
After a long hesitation, Erna finally approached the horse. Bjorn, watching the awkward encounter, smiled softly, like the summer evening breeze.
A beautiful and gentle horse of a size suitable for the small-bodied Grand Duchess to handle.
The horse that met all of those criteria was the young mare standing before Erna right now. She knew that her previous owner, thrilled to have found a waterman, had overcharged her, but she didn't pay much attention.
“Be friendly, Erna. She’s a lady, too.”
As their relationship made little progress, Bjorn slowly approached his wife from behind.
“What does that mean?”
“Look. She's wearing a hat.”
Bjorn nodded to the horse's head with white markings.
“She's wearing gloves too.”
His gaze now turned to the horse's sleekly extended forelegs. From the hooves to a height of about a hand's length, only the two front feet were covered in white fur, giving the horse the appearance of wearing gloves. Erna, who had been looking astonished, soon burst into laughter.
“Yes, she is a lady.”
“That’s right.”
Bjorn took Erna's hand, now slightly relaxed, and allowed her to slowly stroke the horse's mane. The horse silently accepted the clumsy touch, blinking its gentle eyes. She was a fine lady, well worth her price.
“What is this lady’s name?”
Erna, who had gathered enough courage to pat the horse's head herself, asked with sparkling eyes.
“You said it, so you do it.”
“But it’s your gift...”
Erna, who had been making the suggestion cautiously, quickly changed her mind and started to act.
“No. I’ll name it.”
Thinking about the calf Christa, who almost got the name Divorce, it seemed like it would be better for this pretty horse.
As if he understood her intentions, Bjorn burst into a cheerful laugh. Erna, delighted by his laughter, laughed too.
They laughed and laughed like children in a state of excitement. Meanwhile, a gentle evening breeze blew from the western sky, now a rosy hue, and enveloped the two people standing face to face.
“Classes start tomorrow.”
Bjorn gently stroked Erna's disheveled hair. Like the wind on an early summer evening. Like love.
Although the thought of getting on a horse was still daunting and frightening, Erna gathered her courage and nodded.
“Can I really ride a horse well?”
She liked this moment so much that she tried to complain for no reason.
“Well, just ride it like you would ride me.”
“Since you have a good teacher, wouldn’t you be able to ride well?”
She wanted to ask him not to say such things outside the bedroom, but she was not given the opportunity.
A good teacher came to kiss her, and Erna accepted. It was a promise to herself to become a good student.
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