Chapter 43

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 43

Chapter Title: Something's Wrong

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“Please forgive Father, Erna.”

After beating around the bush for what felt like ages, Brenda Hardy finally got to the point just as the white steam rising from her teacup faded away completely. The corners of her lips, pulled up awkwardly, trembled faintly, spasming like a twitch.

“Things were so desperate back then. You know how bad the situation was.”

Brenda Hardy swallowed dryly, scrutinizing Erna's complexion. The soft gaze and expression staring back at her were just as gentle as ever, which only heightened the strange tension in the air.

“O-Of course, it must have hurt you terribly. How could I not understand? But...”

“The tea's gone cold.”

Erna whispered softly, her eyes dropping to the tea table.

In the moment Brenda Hardy flinched, a maid approached quietly and cleared away the cooled tea, pouring a fresh cup. The clinking of porcelain only amplified the suffocating silence.

“My apologies, Viscountess. I've been rude. Please continue with what you were saying.”

Once the maid withdrew, Erna faced Brenda Hardy again. Her demeanor was impeccably polite, but discerning the intent behind it wasn't difficult.

I don't want to hear any more.

Brenda Hardy clenched her teeth unwittingly, but she couldn't muster the nerve to resume the interrupted conversation. Her stomach churned, yet she couldn't treat Erna—the future Grand Duchess of Schwerin, the city's foremost noble lady—like the old days anymore.

The country bumpkin who had been whipped and run away had returned as the prince's fiancée.

When the rumor first spread, she had scoffed along with every other person in Rezen. Even if that poisonous mushroom of a prince had lost his mind, the royal family would never approve such a marriage. Erna, oblivious to the world's dangers, had ruined her marriage prospects with her presumptuous greed and now thrown her own life into the fire pit. Brenda had laughed heartily at her, soothing her own grief over the looming bankruptcy right in front of her eyes.

But lo and behold. The king had graciously approved the marriage—and even ordered it to take place before the autumn was out. Preparing a prince's wedding in just a couple of months? It shattered protocol and tradition, but no one dared object. The marriage itself was such an absurd breach already; nitpicking details now would be laughable.

While the Hardy family reeled in shock and dismay, the wedding preparations proceeded methodically.

Prince Biern first moved Baroness Baden and Erna into his townhouse. All wedding-related matters were naturally delegated to Baroness Baden.

It was a thorough exclusion of the Hardys, who were nominally Erna's parents, but the other party was the royal family. They had no choice but to swallow their humiliation and resentment. At least Erna's selection as the Grand Duchess-to-be had saved them from bankruptcy. With the wedding now just a week away, even nonexistent patience seemed to deepen at the thought of becoming in-laws to the royals.

“Still, you need to reconcile with Father before the wedding, Erna. You'll be walking down the aisle together—can't have things awkward, right?”

After lightening the mood with small talk, Brenda Hardy cautiously broached the main topic again, slipping in a reminder that Erna was still Walter Hardy's daughter, wrapped in a bright smile.

“How about a family dinner? I'll invite Baroness Baden too.”

“I'm afraid I can't give you a firm answer right now, Viscountess.”

Erna clasped her rigid hands together and continued slowly.

“I'll check my schedule and get back to you.”

Her fingertips began to tremble faintly, but fortunately, she kept her expression and voice steady. Though her face clearly showed displeasure, Viscountess Hardy accepted it meekly. She insisted repeatedly on being contacted, with persistent tenacity.

Erna saw Viscountess Hardy off all the way to the front of the townhouse. Recalling that contemptuous gaze looking down at her battered, collapsed self that night made her heart grow cold, but she didn't want unnecessary rumors to spread.

“I know it's presumptuous and rude to say this, but the viscountess is utterly shameless.”

Lisa grumbled, staring at the departing Hardy carriage. Erna made a troubled face, but Lisa stood firm on her opinion.

“To do that to you and then casually beg for forgiveness? I truly can't comprehend it.”

“Lisa.”

“You're not going to forgive her easily, are you? If you did, I wouldn't understand you either. Though I'd still love you, of course.”

Lisa put extra emphasis on her final words.

Erna, who had looked flustered for a moment, soon broke into a clear smile. In moments like this, when she smiled shyly, she looked so unearthly beautiful that it tickled Lisa's heart.

I'll follow and love Miss forever.

Lisa had resolved that firmly the day she reunited with Erna.

She thought that once she became the Grand Duchess, she'd forget a lowly maid like her entirely—but Erna had come to the Hardy estate herself to fetch Lisa. To Lisa, who had been treated like an outcast awaiting dismissal, that day's lady was like a beam of saving light.

“You've suffered so much because of me, haven't you?”

Erna's hand stroking the hesitant Lisa's cheek had been incredibly warm.

“I'm sorry, Lisa.”

Those calm words of apology had ultimately made Lisa burst into tears.

That day, Lisa sobbed uncontrollably in the arms of her smaller lady. She knew she was making a fool of herself, but the tears wouldn't stop. Erna said nothing, simply stroking Lisa's trembling back and offering her embrace.

I'll follow and love Miss forever, and protect her too.

Lisa reaffirmed her solemn vow as she followed Erna. From a scorned country bumpkin, to the lady's maid, and now serving the future Grand Duchess—the responsibility was no light matter.

“But Miss, the prince hasn't come to see you at all.”

Thinking of Prince Biern—a foe no less formidable than the Hardys—hardened Lisa's gaze with determination.

The prince on a white horse who had saved her lady.

For that alone, she had decided to forget his poisonous mushroom past entirely. Yet the more she observed, the stranger his attitude toward Erna seemed.

He was turning the whole country upside down to push through the marriage, so he must be utterly smitten—yet their interactions felt utterly distant. Moreover, the prince rarely met Erna at all. Not just that—he never sent so much as a flower or a letter. It was hardly the picture of normal lovers.

Something was wrong.

That was the conclusion Lisa reached after much deliberation.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Oh, he'll come tomorrow. We're having lunch together at the palace.”

Erna answered with an unconcerned smile. Her face was bright, showing no sign that meeting her fiancé after a fortnight was odd in the slightest.

“Miss.”

Lisa faced her lady with a grave expression. She intended to warn her that this wasn't right, but upon seeing Erna, her resolve wilted.

“I'll make you look beautiful.”

Miss was already plenty beautiful, but Lisa decided to give it her all anyway.

“Really, I'll make you very beautiful!”

So that the poisonous mushroom prince would fall head over heels.

She kept that vow to herself as a secret.

Erna, watching Lisa blankly, burst into innocent laughter once more. She smiled so beautifully, oblivious to others' concerns.

“That damned bastard.”

Leonard muttered that before collapsing face-first onto the table. The motion toppled a glass, spilling the unfinished brandy.

Biern set down his empty glass with a smirk. It took quite a while to pry his heavy eyelids open again.

The bar, bathed in the clear, bright sunlight of an autumn morning, was a scene of devastation. Empty bottles rolled across the floor like fallen leaves, interspersed with comatose idiots sprawled everywhere. Some laughing, some crying, some stripping—the whole spectacle resembled an exhibit of varied debauchery.

Biern snatched the deer antler trophy gleaming proudly amid the chaos and rose unsteadily. Having matched the persistent drinkers drink for drink as if his life depended on it, he was quite intoxicated himself, making it hard to keep his balance.

Yet Biern escaped the club unscathed. He had to lean on the wall several times to steady his staggering body and catch his breath, but he avoided tumbling into the farce with the drunks.

Two bachelor parties, of all things.

Even with his alcohol-muddled brain, it was absurd.

The culprits behind this pathetic affair were the stags bearing the bitter past of having presented him with golden trophies. Burning with determination to finally sever Prince Biern Dynister's antlers this time, they had arrogantly crafted a trophy and thrown a bachelor party on their own. Biern learned of it only last night, as he was about to leave the club.

Though it was the second, they claimed it carried the profound intent of starting with the same spirit as the first—or some such nonsense. It was such flimsy sophistry that not even a chuckle escaped him. Yet he joined the madness because those fools had dared order a golden trophy in his name.

“If you just leave, you lose. And the bill's going to the Schwerin Palace anyway.”

Berryman—the most recent stag hunted by Prince Biern Dynister—had waved the receipt while spouting drivel. Incredibly, his name was indeed on the payment line. It was a clumsy scam born of the workshop owner's complacency with his elite regular customers and the idiots' thirst for revenge.

When they first thrust a glass at him, Biern had planned to humor them briefly before leaving. Their audacity in trying to scam him was outrageous, but considering the trophies he'd amassed, he could afford to let one slide. But as one glass became two, then more, Biern gradually got serious. Holding two bachelor parties was ridiculous enough—losing to their insanity would be even more so.

In the end, both sides dug in with grim resolve, and the stags' night burned with fervor. Their venomous persistence prevented an easy end to the binge, which dragged into the bright morning. If Leonard had held out a bit longer, victory wouldn't have been assured.

“Haah...”

Emerging from the club building, Biern let out a long sigh amid the piercing sunlight and fresh breeze. His gaze landed on the plaza fountain, drawing an involuntary chuckle. Even as he boarded the carriage and closed his eyes, the laughter continued intermittently.

If Erna hadn't appeared by the fountain that dawn, everything might have turned out differently, Biern thought as he drifted off. When he opened his eyes again, the carriage had stopped before the Grand Duke's residence.

“Good heavens. Finally. And in this state!”

Mrs. Fitz rushed up as he alighted, exclaiming in shock. Biern flashed a perfunctory smile and staggered onward, but her unexpected follow-up halted him.

“Miss Hardy is waiting for you.”

“...Erna? Why?”

Mrs. Fitz sighed in exasperation at Biern's squinted, sluggish question.

“Because you promised. Lunch with your fiancée today, Your Highness!”