Chapter 14

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

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 14

Chapter Title: A Reasonable Deal

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

Erna's face flushed bright red upon spotting the embroidered initials of her own name in one corner of the handkerchief.

"...Thank you."

It took her a long while, but she finally extended her trembling hand to accept the handkerchief. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had pulled such a clichéd ploy, leaving something like that behind.

Biern watched her reaction with keen interest.

A brazen woman trying to use him to inflate her own value, a girl in a dowdy dress flitting lightly along Tara Street, and now this one, putting on a fine lady act. It was impossible to pin down which was the real Erna Hardy. He could somewhat understand why fools fell for her tricks. At least on the surface, she seemed like the picture of innocent purity, unlike any other in the world.

"Would you grant me the honor of viewing the paintings alongside you, my lady?"

Judging that enough eyes were upon them, Biern extended his hand with polite grace. Erna, who had been searching for any chance to slip away, let out a short gasp of shock. Her lips looked especially red, likely due to her exceptionally pale skin.

What?

Gazing down at Erna, who could only mouth the question without voicing it, Biern flashed a calm smile.

"Come along, then."

Biern took the hand of the woman who refused to budge and placed it upon his arm. He had allowed himself to be used, so now he would use her in return—surely no cleaner or fairer trade existed.

Biern turned with Erna on his arm, escorting her affectionately for all to see. Amid the murmuring onlookers, he spotted Gladys, gone pale from shock. She looked far better than she had moments ago, mimicking her days as the beloved crown princess.

By night's end, the rumors would spread through the entire city.

Prince Biern had toyed with another woman right in front of Princess Gladys, who had come seeking forgiveness and reconciliation. And that woman was none other than Erna Hardy—the very one rumored to be up for sale to the highest bidder soon enough. Of course, Biern couldn't care less what speculation or blame came his way. No rumor could irk him more than talk of reuniting with Gladys.

Biern tightened his grip slightly on the arm of the woman offering faint resistance. That was when Erna suddenly lifted her head. Her blue eyes, framed by long, thick lashes, gleamed with an almost unreal clarity.

Erna stared at him steadily with those eyes for a moment before lowering her gaze once more, as if she had decided it wouldn't harm her interests either.

Having reached a satisfying conclusion, Biern began leading the stiff woman through the crowd at a leisurely pace, ensuring they provided ample spectacle.

You bastard!

Turning toward the persistent stare following them, he saw Peter mouthing curses.

Hey! You're really going through with it?

Peter looked utterly incredulous as he asked.

Biern nodded without hesitation, then glanced down at the trembling woman beside him. Erna stared straight ahead as she walked, her cheeks, earlobes, and even the corners of her eyes now flushed red.

"Who on earth is that young lady?"

King Philip Dynister's face was etched with bewilderment as he watched his wife. The worst outcome—Biern entangled with Gladys—had been avoided, but considering the rumors already spreading from mouth to mouth, it was hardly an optimistic situation.

"That's Erna Hardy, Father."

Princess Luise answered in the queen's stead, her face taut with anger.

"The lady from Viscount Hardy's family—the very one who used Brother Biern to draw attention at the royal ball."

Luise's added explanation darkened the king's expression further. Queen Isabel, who had been listening quietly to their exchange, shifted her gaze toward the hall's entrance where the two had disappeared.

She hadn't expected Biern to accept Gladys's greeting so easily, but she certainly hadn't anticipated this method. Turning and leaving outright would have been far more in character for him.

"How can she be so shameless? A handkerchief, of all things! And Brother Biern falls for such an obvious, low-class trick?"

"That's enough, Luise. There are many ears about."

Queen Isabel gently but firmly scolded her excited daughter. Though Luise's face still burned with unspoken words, she backed down without further protest.

"We should look into that young lady."

Confirming Luise had returned to her husband, Queen Isabel whispered softly.

"Don't you think?"

She gazed at her husband with her usual gentle smile.

The king offered no denial.

"You should head back first."

Erna finally spoke only after they reached the final exhibition room. For a first word uttered with such effort, it was remarkably bold.

Biern lowered his bored gaze from scanning the paintings to look at her. Erna met his eyes squarely, chin held high—a resolute glint unlike her earlier panicked flight.

"You've seen all the paintings now, so please go ahead, Your Highness. I'll stay a bit longer."

As if worried he might not understand, she repeated slowly and clearly.

"Why?"

Biern's eyes swept over her steadily rising and falling chest, then lingered on the pale blue veins visible at her neck, before settling on those strikingly vivid blue eyes. Once again, Erna did not look away.

"Are there more paintings you need to see?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then?"

"You asked to view the paintings together, and now we've seen every one on display, so I believe my role is fulfilled."

Her tone was clipped with irritation, but regrettably, it held no threat.

Having surveyed the persistent onlookers who had trailed them this far, Biern stepped closer to Erna. She flinched back in surprise, but his hand clamped onto her arm faster still.

"Stay right there."

Biern leaned in close and whispered.

"There are many ears about."

Following his pointed glance around them, Erna promptly yielded. From afar, they must have looked quite intimate and affectionate.

"Are you angry?"

Biern's low whisper was gentle, at odds with his mischievous expression.

"No."

Erna whispered back just as softly. Her furrowed brow made her obvious lie all the more amusing.

"Is that so? It looks to me like you're quite upset."

"Not at all, Your Highness."

Now she was even shaking her head emphatically, eyes narrowed in determination.

"I caused you great offense at the royal ball as well, so I'll consider today's events amends for that mistake."

"Mistake? Amends?"

Biern's eyes narrowed as he regarded the woman acting as if she were magnanimously forgiving him.

"You mean you're upset that I inconvenienced you, Miss Hardy, but you'll overlook it in light of past events?"

"......"

"A blow for a blow, so now we're even—something like that?"

"......"

"Quite the calculating lady you are."

Biern couldn't help but let out a short chuckle at Erna, who kept her lips tightly sealed. Timid and trembling as she was, she still spat out her piece without hesitation.

As expected, this type turns out to be the real predator.

"Very well. Let's call it a reasonable deal."

Biern nodded and released her, figuring she had served her purpose. That was the plan, until he saw the blatant relief wash over her face.

Changing his mind as he turned to leave, Biern snatched her small, lace-gloved hand in one swift motion. Erna realized what was happening only after his lips brushed the back of it.

The once-quiet exhibition room erupted in gasps from those pretending to admire the art while spying on them. Biern paid the commotion no mind, bowing with the courtesy due a princess as he kissed the back of Erna's hand.

"Then I shall look forward to our next meeting, Miss Hardy."

With a sweet farewell fit for lovers, Biern withdrew. Seeing Erna's face flush crimson once more lightened his mood considerably.

Leaving her glaring daggers at him, Biern exited the room without a backward glance. As expected, Peter and his crew awaited him in the corridor.

"What the hell? What did you say? You're meeting her again?"

"Mind your own business."

Biern brushed them off curtly and began strolling down the corridor.

"Charging into this for real. Do you know how much money you've fleeced from us at cards all this time? And you're skimping over this pot? That precious to you?"

"Half that pot is my money anyway. If you hadn't suggested this idiotic bet, it would've been my win."

Biern's retort made Lennard flinch. There was no arguing that point, at least.

"See? The richer they get, the scarier they are. A guy with pure greed for cash."

Peter clucked his tongue in admiration.

"Wooing another woman right in front of your ex-wife over a bet's stakes. That's how you gotta live to get rich. So, what's your next move? Everyone's probably cursing you to hell and back."

"What do I care."

"And what about Miss Hardy?"

"Oh? Were you so worried about Erna Hardy that you started this betting game?"

Biern cut off their feeble sympathy with mocking sarcasm. The group averted their eyes, at a loss for words. Their awkward silence didn't last long, thanks to the timely arrival of the Royal Academy director.

Spotting Biern, he hurried over with a greeting, accompanied by a young man.

"This is Pavel Roer, my pupil who placed in this art exhibition. He's the most promising talent at the academy, so I simply had to introduce him to Your Highness."

The director beamed with pride as he presented his student, who bowed his head once more upon meeting Biern's eyes, a gesture of humility. The robust redhead gave more the impression of a soldier than an artist.

Biern responded to their greetings with appropriate courtesy. Art was outside his interests anyway. Who the next great painter leading a new era might be wasn't his concern. Unless, of course, the value of his works skyrocketed—then it might be worth noting.

With a brief nod, Biern brushed past them. He recalled the painter's name only as he neared the corridor's end.

"Pavel."

The name slipped from Biern's lips as he came to an abrupt halt—the very name the woman wandering the garden had called out so desperately. Peter and his group, bantering idly behind him, stopped short as well.

"What's up? Something wrong?"

Lennard ventured cautiously, but Biern gave no reply. Instead, he turned to look back the way they had come.

The director and Pavel Roer were just entering the exhibition room at the corridor's end—the very room where he had left her.