Chapter 34

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 34

Chapter Title: Storm

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"Aren't you making even a single flower today?"

Lisa asked casually as she carefully brushed Erna's hair.

For the past few weeks, Erna had scrimped on sleep to craft her floral arrangements, but since returning from delivering to the department store yesterday afternoon, she had set her work aside. Amid the world's uproar condemning her, the young lady had quietly devoted herself to her craft, so this sudden change was starting to worry Lisa. Erna's face in the dressing table mirror even looked paler than usual.

"Are you feeling unwell, by any chance?"

"No. It's nothing like that."

Erna, who had only smiled without replying, turned around.

"I just... want to rest a bit. That's all."

"If that's the case, then I'm relieved."

Not entirely convinced, Lisa nodded along for now. No matter how detached from worldly affairs someone was, could they truly remain unaffected by something like this? The malice being hurled her way was vicious enough to pain even Lisa, who wasn't directly involved.

"Miss, no matter what anyone says, I like you. I'm serious."

Lisa set down the brush and grabbed Erna's hand.

"So don't let the chatter of people who don't even know who you really are get to you. It'll die down soon enough. Scandals that captivate people around here always do. Believe me, won't you?"

"Yeah. I believe you."

Erna nodded with a smile. She could sense Lisa's desire to comfort her.

"Thank you, Lisa. I won't forget it."

"Why do you say it like we'll never see each other again? I'd follow you even if you got married. Don't you dare think of leaving me behind!"

Lisa tilted her head, then burst into laughter. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice the slip she'd made unconsciously.

Erna responded with a quiet smile of her own.

The day promised with Pavel was now just one away. By this time tomorrow, she'd be on the train to Burford, so this was the last night of chatting with Lisa while having her hair brushed.

Lisa bid her a warm goodnight as usual and withdrew. Erna stared at the closed door until the sound of her footsteps faded completely.

Though most of her time here had been filled with betrayal, exploitation, and resentment, Lisa could at least remain a fond memory of this city. Perhaps Prince Biern too—regardless of his reputation in this world, he had been a benefactor to Erna Hardy, at least.

Erna shook off the lingering thoughts and rose, pulling out the trunk hidden under the bed to check her belongings. She took nothing her father had saddled her with here. So, just as she'd arrived, she would leave light and unburdened, abandoning meaningless regrets and wounds alongside the unnecessary possessions.

That was all there was to it.

Erna took a deep breath, steeling herself, and hid the trunk again. In that moment, the faint sound of heavy footsteps grew closer, accompanied by Lisa's shrill scream.

Frozen by the terror ingrained in her body, Erna barely managed to steady her trembling legs and staggered toward the bedroom door. The door flew open just as her hand touched the latch. Losing her balance, she fell, and a menacing shadow loomed over her. It was Viscount Hardy, reeking of alcohol as strongly as ever.

He shoved aside Lisa, who tried to restrain him, and strode across the threshold. Slamming the door shut and locking it, he roughly seized Erna by the hair.

Dull thuds of blows, screams, and a torrent of savage curses filled the air chaotically. Amid it all, the fierce wind rattled the windows even louder. The storm had begun.

When dawn broke, the wind grew even fiercer.

Pavel peered anxiously out the rattling glass window. Of all days, this crucial one had to bring such foul weather. He considered sending a telegram to delay departure by a day, but no matter how he thought it over, it wasn't ideal. If the telegram fell into the hands of some other Hardy family member instead of Erna, it would ruin everything. The risk was too great.

Steeling himself, Pavel drew the curtains and turned away. The guest room in the old stone mansion was thick with a gloomy atmosphere of dampness and rain sounds.

He had come to this small town, half a day's train ride from Schwerin, for a portrait commission. Introduced by the academy director, he had gladly accepted due to the generous pay—enough to keep Erna and the Baden household from worrying about living expenses for a while—and it wouldn't take much time.

But there was an unforeseen variable: the model, an elderly lady's health. Instead of returning to Schwerin by two days ago as planned, her frailty made prolonged sitting impossible, delaying things. Fortunately, he could finish the sketches here and complete the rest back home, so it should wrap up by morning.

"Mr. Roer, the lady says she's ready."

The mansion's butler brought the welcome news to his room.

Pavel, already prepared, hurried out with uncharacteristically eager steps. The corridor and stairs leading to the drawing room where the old lady waited felt endlessly long today.

7 a.m. In front of the clock tower at Central Station Square.

Recalling his promise with Erna, Pavel positioned himself at the easel. Lightning flashed beyond the window.

This rain didn't look like it would let up anytime soon.

Carriages carrying fervent card players undeterred by the storm gathered one by one at Tara Square. While the streets were nearly deserted due to the savage weather, the social club inside buzzed as lively as any other evening.

Prince Biern stepped lightly down from the carriage halted under the porch roof.

Even as the rekindled scandal exploded like fireworks, his routine remained serene. He had long ceased to care about such matters. Besides, this time the blade of the scandal pointed not at him, but at that woman, Erna.

Exchanging perfunctory greetings with familiar faces, Biern headed straight for the card room. Stepping into the space thick with tobacco smoke, idle banter, subtle excitement, and tension washed away the day's foul mood.

"Ruthless, utterly ruthless. You take the big pot and come back to empty our pockets again, Your Highness?"

Leonard sidled up beside Biern, chuckling playfully.

"About Miss Hardy... You haven't seen her since that day, right?"

As if sharing a grand secret, he lowered his voice. Biern lit a cigar without responding. Knowing that gesture usually meant affirmation, Leonard's face fell awkwardly.

He had led the impulsive bet, but with things unfolding this way, a strange guilt clung to him. It was just a joke for fun, yet it had ended up ruining one woman's future. Overlooking the repercussions of Biern's involvement was the root of the problem.

"Ah... I see. Well, yeah. The bet's over, so no reason to meet again."

Leonard mumbled something vague, different from what he'd intended.

This prince was notoriously heartless toward women who lost his interest. Bringing up Erna now would likely not even raise an eyebrow. Even Princess Gladys, beloved by the world, had been discarded so callously—what was one failing nobleman's daughter to him? In truth, there was no way for them to help Erna Hardy anymore. The main accusation was that she dared interfere with the grand duke and princess's reunion, a problem that wouldn't resolve unless the two actually reconciled.

Biern and Gladys.

People's affection for the former crown prince couple was unparalleled. A prince and princess more beautiful than any fairy tale, their love story had captivated the realm. From the moment engagement talks between the two nations began, they were its protagonists. No singer or actor could rival the popularity of Crown Prince Biern and Princess Gladys.

People fixated on their every move and adored the stories that spun from them. Their smooth engagement and grand wedding had become the ultimate romance novel, the bestseller beloved by all Lezchenians. The century's wedding had been so spectacular: crowds like clouds gathering to celebrate, commemorative coins selling out instantly, and portraits of the couple so ubiquitous that every home had one. They remained legendary even now.

Biern and Gladys symbolized the royal houses of both nations, their popularity translating directly to support for the monarchy. It wasn't an exaggeration to say they were the republicans' greatest foes. Their divorce had caused such a shockwave precisely because it threatened to unseat Lezchen's crown prince.

With all the card table members assembled, the game began without delay.

Leonard and Peter, who had been exchanging busy glances, soon gave up with resigned faces and focused on their hands.

Even as they cursed Biern vehemently, his mother and sister still kept portraits of the crown prince couple tucked away in drawers. Other fans of that romance novel were no different. Their anger stemmed from still loving those once-beautiful, perfect protagonists. More than a few secretly hoped that if the two reconciled, Biern might reclaim his position as crown prince.

The blade-sharp criticism raining down on Erna Hardy originated there. She was the villain splitting apart protagonists on the verge of overcoming crisis for their true happy ending.

"It's pouring like mad."

Peter glanced out the window and muttered with a troubled look.

Biern flicked his gaze that way. The unrelenting downpour distorted the view through the streaming glass into indistinct shapes. Foul weather, but a fitting backdrop for a dramatic escape.

Could that woman achieve her goal?

Propping his chin lazily, Biern stared at the rain-lashed window. By tomorrow, when the rain stopped, he'd know the outcome one way or another.

Success or failure—if he had to bet on one, which had the edge?

Pondering it quite seriously, Biern let out a short sigh as if mocking himself.

"Biern."

He withdrew his gaze from the window at the urging voice. His calm eyes returned to the complex dance of cards, his world.

The clock he'd glimpsed showed just past 5 p.m.