Chapter 12

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 12

Chapter Title: The Incurable Young Lady

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Leonard’s eyes were far too clear for it to be dismissed as drunken rambling. It didn’t take long for the silence hanging over the card table to erupt into fervent cheers.

“That sounds fun. How about we use these chips here as the stakes?”

“Sounds good. I’m in. Totally in.”

Peter shoved the pile of poker chips stacked in front of him forward with an excited grin.

Biern let out a low sigh as he leaned back deeply into his chair. As more fools signaled their participation one by one, the game fizzled out into nothing.

Leonard, you bastard. Looks like you’re flipping the table properly now that you think you’re going to lose.

Even under Biern’s irritated glare, Leonard didn’t flinch. In the meantime, betting chips from all around piled up in the center of the now-messy card table. The gamblers’ faces, realizing the pot was much larger than expected, now burned with serious competitive fire. The only one who hadn’t put in money yet was Biern.

“You’re playing too, right, Biern? Come on?”

Peter sidled up slyly next to Biern.

Everyone present knew Prince Biern Dynister would never get involved in something like this. Which meant they had to squeeze an even bigger stake out of him. After all, opportunities to fleece the gambling genius prince didn’t come around often.

“You in?”

Peter pushed the poker chips toward Biern with bated breath.

He didn’t look particularly pleased, but Biern didn’t stop him. The attitude of eat-and-run was a bit annoying, but it was understandable when someone tossed out such a lavish feast.

The thrilled Peter gathered up the remaining chips and dragged them all to the center of the table. The stakes for this bet to bestow a favor on Erna Hardy were now large enough to buy a townhouse in the city outright.

“Let’s start with today’s art exhibition. Everyone’s attending anyway, so it’s fair, right?”

Leonard, the one who had first stirred up this pathetic bet, declared solemnly as if it were official.

Biern finished the rest of his drink and checked his pocket watch. It was already morning. The opening ceremony of the Royal Academy of Art’s exhibition, which he had to attend whether he liked it or not, was fast approaching.

Erna completed the silver bellflowers just as dawn began to break. The artificial bouquet, meticulously crafted down to the petals, stems, and leaves, was as beautiful as the real thing.

Erna gazed proudly at the silver bellflowers she had brought to bloom with her own hands. The more complex the shape of an artificial flower, the higher its value—and among them, silver bellflowers fetched the highest price. They were Erna’s favorite and the ones she made best.

When she first started making and selling them, she had to churn out silver bellflowers nonstop. But a few years ago, orders had noticeably dwindled. Still, silver bellflowers remained Erna’s absolute favorite.

As the clear morning light stretched across her desk, Erna finally rose from her seat.

The city’s day started far too slowly. For Erna, who began her routine before the roosters crowed back home, it was hard to comprehend. Not wanting to waste time idly, she had started making one bouquet every dawn, and now they filled an entire basket.

It would be great if she could find a place to sell these.

Erna eyed her carefully made bouquets with a tinge of regret.

Back in Burford, she sold them through Mr. Alle, who ran the general store. He was also the one who had first given her the work via Mrs. Greve.

At first, they sold modestly at the rural shop, but as Erna’s skill improved day by day, Mr. Alle introduced her to a buyer who could sell them for much more—a department store, he said, a grand and glamorous shop in the big city.

Erna couldn’t even imagine what such a massive store with everything under the sun might look like, but there was no reason to hesitate. Delivering to the department store paid twice what she got from Mr. Alle’s shop.

The living expenses earned from selling to the department store had been a huge help to House Baden’s household. Tea caddies and sugar bowls no longer stayed empty, and she avoided the hardship of patching old clothes for lack of fabric. Thanks to that, in Erna’s vague imaginings, the department store was far grander and more beautiful than the palace itself. She had revised that view after seeing the palace, though.

Could she sell directly to a department store here?

Erna examined her finished bouquets with a more serious gaze.

She had secured the countryside home through her deal with her father, but without the living expenses she contributed, House Baden’s finances must have tightened up again. Mrs. Greve, whose eyesight had worsened greatly, could no longer make them, so for the past few years, it had all fallen to Erna.

She could do the work here easily enough; she just needed to find a shop to deliver to. If that was hard, maybe send the finished bouquets to House Baden. If postage was too expensive, visiting Burford once a season in person with the goods might work.

As Erna reached that conclusion, a cheerful knock echoed through the room. It was Lisa, carrying a large box. Inside were a new dress and hat.

“Miss, this dress is quite proper, isn’t it?”

Lisa shook out the blue dress from the box and smiled. Her tone was like coaxing a child.

Erna smiled back and nodded. By her standards—never exposing below the collarbone even in midsummer—it was still immodest, but compared to the last one, it was as modest as a nun’s habit.

“But why a new dress?”

“You didn’t know? You’re attending the art exhibition opening with Madam today.”

Erna and Lisa stared at each other with wide eyes, startled for entirely different reasons.

“The art exhibition? Me?”

“Yes! It’s the famous annual summer exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art.”

Lisa beamed as if it were her own event, holding the dress up to Erna this way and that. Royal Academy of Art. Erna murmured the words in a daze, and a slow smile spread across her lips. Pavel. The beloved name naturally linked to the place was the reason.

Maybe she could see Pavel.

Erna began the day with more energy than usual, buoyed by that hope. After breakfast, she dressed up and boarded the carriage, led by the viscountess’s hand. Even the unfamiliar cityscape didn’t feel as threatening as before today.

“I hope you manage to conduct yourself properly today. Unless you have the vile hobby of enjoying public humiliation, that is.”

As the academy drew near, Viscountess Hardy, who had been silent the whole way, finally spoke. Her voice, laced with displeasure, was icy cold.

“Yes, Viscountess. I’ll do my best.”

Erna gave the most appropriate response she could, calmly.

She vaguely sensed she had earned a poor reputation. The fervent attention had led to countless misunderstandings and speculations, soon solidifying into established truth. The more she tried to clear her name, the deeper into the quagmire she felt herself sinking.

So she just had to endure today well.

As Erna steeled herself like a mantra, the carriage stopped. A beautiful building of white marble sparkled dazzlingly in the sunlight.

“Miss Hardy really is an incurable young lady.”

Countess Victoria Meyer’s deep sigh seeped into the quiet garden. Erna was still slumped over on the bench, panting raggedly. Her pale, trembling form was pitiable yet pathetic.

“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now? How long do you plan to keep showing such an unsightly side?”

“I’m…… sorry, Countess.”

Erna barely parted her lips to stammer a reply. Her reddened eyes made her pale blue irises stand out even more. Even in such a moment, that captivating pretty face only troubled Countess Victoria Meyer further.

If she just smiled sweetly and showed a bit of charm, she could ensnare any man. Seeing Erna fail at even that simple thing made a pillar of fire rise in Victoria’s chest.

She had seen countless young ladies find society unfamiliar and daunting, but Erna Hardy was the first who couldn’t even breathe properly in front of people. Things seemed to go decently today until Lord Peter Bergen’s son spoke to her, triggering the episode. If Victoria hadn’t quickly supported her and brought her to the garden, Erna would have become a spectacle for everyone again.

“I didn’t mean to do it on purpose. Countess, I really……”

“I know.”

Victoria Meyer rubbed her throbbing forehead and cut Erna off.

“It would be better if you were a girl who could pull off such an act. That you can’t is the tragedy for both you and me, Miss Hardy.”

“Pardon?”

Erna lifted her teary eyes to look at her.

The reputation of being a beauty rivaling Princess Gladys was deliberately cultivated by House Hardy, but it was objectively true as well. The only reason she had accepted the chaperonage of the Hardy daughter she hadn’t favored was Erna’s beauty.

Who would have thought this pretty girl would be such a headache.

“Listen carefully, Miss Hardy. This isn’t just your problem. My honor is at stake too.”

“What do you mean?”

Erna asked again, still puzzled. Victoria Meyer let out a heavy sigh at that innocent face. Regret flooded her for making such a terribly wrong choice, but it was too late to turn back.

“If people scare you so much, try thinking of them as not people. Something familiar to you…… yes, like country flowers or animals. That might make it a bit better, no?”

It sounded foolish even to her, but Victoria Meyer urged her earnestly. She couldn’t let a mere Hardy girl sully her brilliant achievements.

As the pre-event ceremony was about to start, Victoria Meyer hurriedly stood.

“I’ll go ahead. Come back once you’ve calmed down. Understood?”

Erna nodded dazedly up at the chiding woman. With one last deep sigh, the countess rushed off through the garden.

Erna kneaded her stiff, cold hands and steadied her breath. The choking pain in her throat had faded, but she couldn’t bring herself to return to where countless eyes awaited.

“It’s okay.”

Muttering the familiar lie, Erna forced herself to sit up straight. She dabbed her face with a handkerchief and meticulously straightened her disheveled clothes. It was then, glancing absentmindedly toward the end of the path, that she spotted someone oddly familiar.

“……Pavel?”

Erna murmured blankly. In that moment, the tall man vanished deep into the garden. Red hair, massive build, familiar back—exactly as she remembered Pavel Roer.

“Pavel!”

Erna jumped up, calling his name urgently.

The hurried footsteps pounding down the path began to shake the drowsy midday summer garden.