Chapter 17

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 17

Chapter Title: Debt Relationship

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Pavel's letter arrived on the third day that Erna had holed up inside the house.

The letter, delivered not by the postman but through the hands of an errand boy, was received by Lisa, who hurriedly climbed the stairs. When there was no answer to her knock, she quietly opened the door, startling Erna, who had been seated at her desk and shot to her feet. The rose arrangement she had been working on since morning remained unfinished—a rarity for Erna's swift hands.

"The letter you've been waiting for has arrived! It's from Mr. Pavel Roer."

Lisa placed the letter directly into the hands of the young lady, who averted her gaze like a child caught red-handed in mischief. Only then did Erna regain her bright smile.

"You must send a reply right away, miss."

At Lisa's urging, Erna's eyes widened.

"Now?"

"Yes. The errand boy who brought this letter is waiting in the back yard. Mr. Roer said to bring back a reply immediately."

Caught off guard by the unexpected news, Erna glanced at the letter in her hand once more. Come to think of it, it was asking whether they could stroll along the riverbank that evening.

Erna quickly sat at her desk and scribbled her reply. In her haste, she spilled a few drops of ink, but there was no time to rewrite it.

Lisa snatched the letter—its wax seal not yet fully hardened—and rushed out of the bedroom. Only after her footsteps faded down the corridor did Erna exhale a sigh of relief.

Tonight, she would meet Pavel.

That thought renewed her sense of grievance and upset.

She couldn't unburden herself to anyone about the humiliation inflicted by the prince. She feared it might spark misunderstandings. Not only had he seized her wrist, but their bodies had pressed together. Even his lips had brushed her nape. If her grandmother found out, she might faint from the sheer immorality of it.

Erna brought her hand to her nape again, now marked with a red trace from her habitual rubbing. The more she tried to erase it, the sharper the memory became. His ragged breathing, hot and moist breath, the oppressively large and solid weight of his body. She could recall it all with vivid clarity now.

"A poisonous mushroom."

Recalling Lisa's warning, Erna shuddered faintly. The pretty, vibrant poisonous mushrooms she had occasionally spotted in the woods now overlaid the face of that vile man.

"Just as I thought."

As if to banish the memory of that colossal poisonous mushroom, Erna squeezed her eyes shut.

She prayed for evening to come soon, so she could meet Pavel and pour out her pent-up frustration.

"Shouldn't we call the physician anyway?"

The butler's gaze, as he inspected Prince Biern's bare back, brimmed with unmistakable concern today as well.

As he had for the past three days, Biern nonchalantly shrugged on his shirt. With each button fastened, a sigh-like chuckle escaped him—just as it had the first time he had checked the bruises upon sobering from drink.

He vaguely recalled taking quite a beating, but he hadn't expected it to look like this. Getting pummeled to the point of bruising for the first time in his life was quite the milestone, really.

What? A deer?

The tiresome praises of Erna he kept hearing from all sides came to mind, and Biern burst into audible laughter. It was a pity that he alone knew the true nature of that beast.

And it wasn't just any beast, either. A thief to boot. A thief with some serious guts.

Recalling his trophy gleaming in that woman's grasp, Biern fastened the last button on his shirt. Greg handed him his tie from the tray with silent, nimble movements.

"If you're reluctant to see the doctor, at least let him treat it..."

"I'm fine."

Biern turned, adjusting his tie knot.

"It's just a little bruising. What's the big deal?"

"Y-You got hit? Who would dare strike the prince?!"

Greg's eyes bulged.

"Someone did."

Biern casually caught the jacket Greg nearly dropped.

"A ferocious beast."

Flashing a grin, Biern shrugged on the jacket and strode out of the dressing room with his long gait. He waved off Greg, who followed with a clothes brush, and Mrs. Fitz approached as if waiting for the moment.

"You've been injured..."

"I'm fine."

Biern offered Mrs. Fitz the same smile he had given the butler, whose face mirrored her own fussing worry.

"If my life were in danger, you'd be the first I'd call for help."

"Your Highness!"

Even before her stern expression, Biern didn't bat an eye and kept up his nonchalance.

Mrs. Fitz let out a deep sigh and stepped back, knowing from long experience that further nagging was pointless.

Composing herself, Mrs. Fitz followed Biern and began reporting the Grand Duke's palace business that needed handling today. She delivered the final update after he reached the study.

"And you should reply to the invitation from House Haber as well."

Mrs. Fitz, who had maintained her composure throughout, added this in a troubled tone. Biern, just settling at his desk, lifted his narrowed gaze to meet hers.

"House Haber? Aunt Marchioness?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The Marchioness of Haber is hosting a party in two days. You should decide on attendance by tonight at the latest."

"Ah. Aunt's season for flaunting her connections has arrived."

Biern nodded, rifling through the papers on his desk.

The Marchioness Haber's parties, boasting her vast network, were infamous for their grandeur. It wasn't an exaggeration to say they gathered every last biped in high society.

"Then I'll send regrets."

"No."

Biern, skimming the report on the recent investment, looked up again.

"Say I'll go."

Mrs. Fitz's eyes widened at the unanticipated response.

"But Your Highness, as you know, the Marchioness of Haber..."

"I know. She must have invited Princess Gladys too."

Her raucous parties, drawing in every ragtag connection imaginable and spawning all sorts of incidents, were the Marchioness of Haber's greatest joy in her later years. She wouldn't miss the former crown prince couple—the hottest topic of this social season—nor Erna Hardy, who rivaled them in gossip fodder.

"If I may be so bold, there are many who would love to gossip maliciously about Princess Gladys and Your Highness."

Mrs. Fitz looked visibly concerned.

"Everyone's expecting it. Can't I indulge them just this once?"

Biern uncapped a fountain pen from the tray and nodded casually.

"I'll even gift Aunt a thrill for her remaining days. Ah, of course, nothing too shocking for her condition."

"Your Highness!"

"The Marchioness of Haber would throw a party in hell, expanding her network to Satan and the devils themselves. Right?"

"Even so, calling it hell for the marchioness..."

"Aunt couldn't survive heaven. Hell, teeming with nuisances, is her true paradise."

Biern grinned as he signed the bottom of the report. The figures were satisfactory, and so was the easy path to catching the thief that Aunt's party promised.

"As you command."

Though flustered, Mrs. Fitz accepted the order obediently.

Biern ended the exchange with a brief nod and approached the study window, a cigar lit between his lips. From the Arbit River below came the shouts of rowers practicing, as reliable as ever.

"Crazy bastards."

Exhaling a long plume of smoke, Biern muttered his curse low, almost like a whisper.

Amid the barbaric cheers, sunlight, and wind carrying the scent of water, Biern contemplated his debt with that woman. Leisurely pondering which method would yield the most satisfying sum.

Pavel arrived at the Grand Duke's Bridge earlier than the appointed time.

This bridge spanning the lower Arbit River was famous for its golden statues adorning the railings and the ornate, intricate lampposts. Built to commemorate Philip II's victory, it bore his name, but most people simply called it the Grand Duke's Bridge—for the straightforward reason that it connected the Grand Ducal Palace of Schwerin to the city.

Leaning against the railing, Pavel gazed down the path where Erna would soon approach. Aside from events at Schwerin Palace, the area was generally deserted, leaving the road empty. That was why he had chosen it as their meeting spot.

He had learned that Erna had come to Schwerin to live with her father about a week before the art exhibition's opening. Miss Hardy—the name now burning hottest in society alongside the former crown prince couple—turned out to be Erna Hardy of all people.

The rumors about Erna that Pavel heard through his upper-crust friends were uniformly twisted with malice. A vulgar seductress chasing marriage for gain? Nothing could suit her less. That was why he had abandoned his impulse to seek her out immediately.

Pavel, who had indirectly brushed against high society, knew well what it was like. A world where one lived and died by reputation. Even close friends from Burford—noble lady and painter—could stir massive scandal just by appearing intimate. Erna's silence about her arrival must have been for that reason.

So he had planned to contact her discreetly at an opportune moment, never imagining they would cross paths at the art exhibition. Nor had he expected the girl who had seemed like such a child just a year apart to have blossomed into a perfect lady.

"Pavel!"

Pavel, staring up at the cloudless summer sky, followed the familiar voice calling from afar and lowered his gaze. It was just as he had pictured: Erna waving to him, accompanied by what seemed to be her maid.

Observing Erna's brisk approach, Pavel couldn't help but laugh out loud. Where had that perfect lady from the other day gone? Erna had reverted to the country girl he knew, in a dress patterned with tiny flowers, a hat overflowing with ribbons and blossoms, and a touch of shyness enhancing her fresh smile. Unmistakably Miss Hardy of House Baden—his friend Erna.

As they drew toward each other, the two stopped a step apart. Erna extended her hand first.

"Do I have to call you Mr. Roer again today?"

"No."

Shaking his head, Pavel clasped her outstretched hand firmly.

"Today, it's Pavel."

"My friend Pavel?"

Gazing at Erna as she asked again, Pavel nodded readily.

Erna's delighted smile shone like sunlight. As Pavel gazed at her face, a smile mirroring hers crept onto his own lips before he knew it.

At last, after a year apart, they faced each other in their true forms.