Chapter 22

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 22

Chapter Title: Crossing the Bridge of Lights

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Biern offered a rather polite bow toward Robin Heinz, who couldn't even meet his eyes and was groaning in pain. As if they were gentlemen who had just shared a sociable, friendly conversation before parting ways. There wasn't a single trace of that one-sided brawl from moments ago to be found anywhere on Biern as he turned and walked away.

Biern walked slowly down the empty corridor. Gladys's frustrations had ended up being poured out on Heinz as well, but he didn't feel particularly sorry about it. He didn't care in the slightest about the rumors that would spread throughout the city before dawn even broke. If the princess's despair deepened even further at the sight of her ex-husband, who was already far removed from any crown, that would be perfect.

Biern entered the lounge, candlestick in hand. The guests, who had glanced over indifferently, soon wore faces of shock and began murmuring among themselves.

"Bi, Biern!"

The Marchioness Haber's shout pierced the air sharply upon spotting him.

"You commit that outrage against Gladys and vanish, and now what is this mess you're in?"

"Oh, this?"

Biern casually set the bloodstained candlestick down on the table in front of his great-aunt.

"Just a little commotion."

"A commotion? What on earth have you... Good heavens!"

The marchioness let out a scream before she could even finish her sentence. The other noblewomen, following her gaze, reacted the same way. Among them was Gladys, who had been sitting in the corner, receiving comfort from her friends.

Biern turned around with a fairly satisfied feeling. Just as expected, Robin Heinz stood there, covered in blood and limping badly.

With that, Biern lost interest in the pointless uproar and resumed his leisurely stride toward the ballroom.

He caught a glimpse of the Marchioness Haber's face as he passed; it was flushed with excitement from the bloody drama that had unfolded at her own party. It seemed the day she hosted a party in hell was still far off—she looked quite healthy.

"Miss! It's true! There's really a golden antler trophy like that!"

Lisa burst into the bedroom and immediately raised her voice in excitement.

Erna, who had been pacing anxiously around the room, spun around in fright. The dye brush slipped from her hand and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop at Lisa's feet.

"It's a tradition in the social clubs for a gentleman about to marry to make a golden antler trophy and hold a bachelor party. The one who drinks the most at that party takes it home, or so they say. What a ridiculous tradition, right? Betting gold on something as silly as a drinking contest. They really do the strangest things."

Lisa picked up the brush and continued her explanation, her eyes sparkling.

According to what she'd heard from inquiring among her close maid friends, the son of the Berryman Marquis family had recently made one such trophy and thrown a massive bachelor party. The winner was Biern. He was known as the poisonous mushroom prince. Apparently, he'd swept up every trophy at every bachelor party, earning him the nickname Hell's Deer Hunter. With every word from Lisa, Erna's despair deepened further.

"But Miss, why are you curious about the pathetic games of such rakes?"

Lisa, who had been chattering away enthusiastically, suddenly voiced her question. Erna flinched and twisted the hem of her skirt in her hands.

"Well... I, uh, heard about it at the party. I was just curious if it was real. Just a little."

"I suppose so. It's such an absurd story that anyone would be curious."

Fortunately, Lisa nodded without suspicion.

"By the way, that poisonous mushroom from the royal family caused another scandal and has the whole city buzzing. No wonder things had been quiet for a while."

Lisa clicked her tongue and launched into the next piece of gossip. It was condemnation of Prince Biern for ruining the Marchioness Haber's party with a brawl.

"Not content with guzzling liquor, he starts fights too. What a hopeless rake."

"No, Lisa!"

Erna refuted before she knew it.

"He... he wasn't drunk. I'm sure of it."

"Pfft. You just don't know drunkards, Miss."

"Maybe the fight started because the other guy was at fault?"

Erna realized she was making a mistake but couldn't back down. No matter what kind of person the prince was, that incident was undoubtedly her fault.

"No way. Even if the Heinz boy has a bad reputation, he's not worse than the poisonous mushroom prince, is he?"

Lisa waved her hand dismissively as if it were absurd, but her expression suddenly turned serious.

"Come to think of it, you're always taking that prince's side?"

"It's not taking sides, but jumping to conclusions without knowing the full situation seems reckless..."

"No!"

Lisa shook her head vigorously, furrowing her brow deeply.

"You mustn't be fooled by appearances! Do you know what happens if you pick a pretty poisonous mushroom and eat it?"

"It's not like that, Lisa."

"Remember this, Miss. You die. Eating it kills you. Got it?"

Treating her like a child left by the water's edge, Lisa repeated her warnings until the housekeeper called for her, and only then did she hurriedly leave the bedroom. She didn't forget to leave one last stern warning even as she closed the door: "Eating it kills you!"

Left alone, Erna sank weakly into the chair at her desk. She had materials scattered everywhere in an attempt to work, but today, even that couldn't steady her mind.

The prince's face floated above the fabric pieces she had cut into flower petal shapes. And that was just the beginning. It appeared on the gleaming scissors, the flower stamen decorations, even reflected in the dye bottles. With the prince's face haunting every corner of her vision, Erna squeezed her eyes shut tight.

She had racked up a massive debt in more ways than one.

That undeniable fact weighed heavily on her heart.

She had scoured every inch of the path from the fountain to the mansion that dawn, using a walk as an excuse, but as expected, there was no trace of the antler trophy. Her last shred of hope—that perhaps the prince had lied—had shattered. On top of that, she had cowardly pinned her own mistake on him and fled, which was utterly shameless.

Erna calmed her trembling heart as best she could and rushed to the wardrobe. Her hand, pulling out the tin cookie box hidden beneath, was deathly pale.

"What am I going to do..."

Erna slumped to the floor in defeat while rummaging through the cookie tin. No matter how naive she was about the world, she knew full well that even pooling everything she had wouldn't buy so much as a corner of that antler.

Knowing it was pointless, Erna still sat there for a long while, digging through the tin. The few meager coins clinked despairingly inside.

If only she'd saved her money.

The day she relayed Pavel's message that he could supply floral arrangements to the department store, Erna had been so moved that she'd splurged on materials. They were just pennies, but now trapped in massive debt, even that little bit felt regrettable.

"...Flowers."

Erna murmured unconsciously as she stared at the silver bellflower arrangement in the cookie tin. Spotting a faint glimmer of hope, her listless eyes began to revive.

Grandfather had always said one must never lose their human dignity and honor, no matter the circumstances. And Erna was his proud granddaughter and disciple.

If you incur a debt, repay it to the best of your ability.

If you commit a wrong, apologize sincerely and seek forgiveness.

That was Erna's understanding of dignity and honor. Grandfather in heaven wouldn't disagree.

Erna clutched the silver bellflower arrangement and sprang to her feet.

Live a life true to your convictions.

That too was Grandfather's legacy.

As the sun sets, the Arbit River turns rose-gold.

Biern drew back the curtains and flung open the carriage window. The evening cityscape flowing past matched the carriage's pace, serene and peaceful. Exhausted from a busier-than-usual day, Biern leaned deeply into his seat and gazed languidly at the sunset along the riverbank.

It was a peaceful day.

Prayer Bank had solidly established itself in Schwerin's financial world, and his individual investments were yielding satisfactory returns. At the large horse race held recently, a horse he owned had taken first place. He had no interest in racing, but the prize money from a fine stallion was another matter.

This was the life he wanted, proceeding smoothly, so there was no reason not to love this summer. With Viscount Hardy's beautiful property on the table, Gladys's presence was fading even more.

Whatever they said linking that woman to him, it didn't matter—as long as it wasn't Gladys, he could embrace any other woman's name. Especially since Erna was soon to deliver a massive windfall.

As a satisfied smile spread across Biern's lips, the carriage entered the bridge connecting the city proper to the Grand Duke's residence.

He readily agreed it was the most beautiful among the many bridges spanning the Arbit River. He had little interest in art, but even to his eyes, this bridge was impressive. Built with lavish investment to commemorate a historic victory, it was only natural.

Biern lifted his gaze to the golden statue atop the tall granite pillar at the bridge's entrance. The equestrian statue adorning the right pillar was Philip II, the Conqueror King who had built this bridge—his great-grandfather.

Biern exchanged a brief glance with his diligent ancestor, who shone brightly over the city today, then let out a wry chuckle and swept back his wind-tousled hair. Thanks to the industrious lamplighters, every gas lamp on the bridge was lit. The dozens of streetlamps along the railings were the primary contributors to the bridge's beauty.

As he contemplated the world awaiting him beyond the Bridge of Lights, Biern's eyes suddenly narrowed near the bridge's end. Beneath the granite pillar on the opposite side stood a woman, clutching a large bundle to her chest and staring piercingly at his carriage.

"Erna."

Biern uttered her name with a scoff-like laugh. He could hardly believe it, but it was undoubtedly her. The dowdy-dressed lady. His straight flush that would secure victory in the bet.

As if she'd been waiting for him, the woman began waving frantically toward the carriage. There was no mistake. His was the only carriage on this bridge—the Grand Duke's.

Biern chuckled once more and rapped on the carriage wall. The coachman hurriedly reined in the horses, halting the smoothly flowing scenery.

Letting out a soft sigh, Biern glanced toward the rear of the carriage. Into the frozen evening tableau ran that woman, Erna.