Chapter 47

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 47

Chapter Title: That Damn Promise

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"...Hello, Your Highness."

Erna, who had been holding her breath for so long, whispered softly. Even in her heightened state of wariness, her polite greeting made Biern chuckle once more.

"You look tired."

"Pardon? Ah... I-I'm sorry."

He hadn't meant to scold her, but Erna apologized with a woeful expression.

Biern stopped her as she tried to sit up and perched on the edge of the bed instead. His new bride could neither advance nor retreat, blinking anxiously.

Watching her leisurely, Biern's gaze paused on her two hands clutching the front of her robe. The gown and nightclothes, overflowing with unrestrained lace and frills, were unmistakably pure Erna's taste. It seemed even Mrs. Fitz couldn't meddle in the grand duchess's choice of sleepwear.

"Pretty nightclothes."

At his teasing compliment, Erna's face flushed bright red.

"...Thank you."

Erna, who had been pondering with a serious face, mumbled something nonsensical in a tiny voice, making Biern laugh heartily. She frowned as if hurt, but curled up smaller without saying a word. Her white foot peeking out from beneath the heap of abundant lace was adorably doll-like.

"Erna."

After a long bout of laughter, Biern whispered lowly.

Erna gazed at him in a daze. It was strange how her own name, called so many times before, felt so unfamiliar now.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Erna's voice trembled pitifully as she forced out her reply. Just lying there made her breathless, her fingertips prickling constantly.

"Call my name."

Biern issued the casual order while untying the ribbon binding her hair. His large hand, stroking the strands that cascaded onto the sheets, soon reached the front of her gown that she clutched tightly.

"On the bed, 'Your Highness' feels a bit..."

He smiled at her, holding the end of the tightly knotted ribbon.

"Try it again."

The ribbon pulled taut. Erna reflexively grabbed the knot and shook her head.

"Come on."

Biern urged her on as if oblivious to her resistance. In that moment, the balance of power over the ribbon strap tipped. Biern's victory.

"You have to do your best, Erna."

Biern's eyes narrowed as he seized Erna's wrists, which were hastily trying to reclutch the front. With just one hand—and not even much force—he perfectly subdued both of hers.

"You promised so confidently to be a good wife."

"That's..."

"Was it a lie?"

"No!"

Even amid profound confusion and fear, Erna denied it firmly.

"I don't make lies like that. Really."

"Good. I really hate being deceived."

Biern grinned and released her.

Now her hands were free, but Erna couldn't bring herself to cover up right away. Unlike his smiling lips, Biern's eyes held no mirth. His expression was hard to read.

Erna hesitated, then clutched the sheets with her wandering hands. The "best" she had solemnly promised wasn't this kind of thing, but since it was part of marriage, there seemed no escape from responsibility. As if reading her mind, Biern parted the front of her robe with a much more relaxed touch.

A heavy silence filled the grand duchess's bedroom once more. Erna's irregular breaths seeped through the crackling of the firewood in the hearth, standing out all the more clearly. Biern listened to the quiet agitation like pleasant music as he undid the ribbons and buttons of her nightclothes one by one with soft taps.

A woman's lingering attachment to clothes she would shed anyway didn't seem so bad. The stuffy nightclothes unfit for a bride on her wedding night were the same. Biern found the moment quite intriguing. Like the pleasure of unwrapping a carefully packaged gift box. The joy of her body emerging as the cumbersome layers were peeled away was considerable too.

"Y-Your Highness."

As his hand reached the button at her chest, Erna frantically raised her arms to shield herself.

"My name."

Biern effortlessly pulled her arms away and pinned them to the sheets. Erna's lips quivered as if she might cry, but after several tries, she finally whispered his name. Biern. It was so soft he had to strain to hear, but he nodded willingly.

"I'll... I'll undress myself."

Erna pleaded desperately, as if trying to sit up. It was an amusing reaction, but Biern refused without hesitation.

"No. Rest. You're tired."

"Pardon...?"

"I have to do my best in my own way too."

Biern replied matter-of-factly as he undid the button she had guarded. And another. And one more. As the buttons opened in succession, the half-shed nightclothes slipped down her skin. Biern smiled softly at Erna, who trembled from the shame too much to bear even at her best efforts.

"Your body's pretty too."

At the unbelievable words, Erna gasped. She could no longer muster polite greetings. Her vision whitened, her will to endure vanishing.

The moment instinctual fear seized her and she tried to rise, Biern climbed onto the bed. Only after being trapped beneath his massive frame did Erna realize it. Her involuntary scream shattered against his lips.

She tried desperately to call his name, but it was futile. The scent of the sea mingled with his body odor and breath, the wet sounds of lips and tongues entwining and sucking erased all thought. When she came to her senses, Erna lay in the middle of the bed, panting raggedly. In her fever-blurred vision, instead of the ceiling, she saw Biern's face.

Before the dazed Erna could gather her wits, a cool hand touched her chest. Soon, hot lips claimed the other breast, and Erna covered her face with both hands, gasping harshly. While thrashing helplessly and moaning, the hair she had so carefully brushed to look pretty became a tangled mess.

Hot, moist breaths, slender moans, and the sounds of skin colliding and rubbing gradually encroached on the silence.

Erna opened her eyes the moment a large hand slid down her waist and between her legs.

"...Biern!"

She cried out the name she hadn't dared call before, desperately like a scream. Biern lifted his face from her chest, marked red with lip and handprints, and met her gaze.

Struggling to push him away with grunts, Erna sobbed his name over and over. Biern frowned, stopping the touch that had driven her into abject terror, and sat up straight.

Beneath his shadow, Erna finally burst into the tears she had held back.

It was too scary, painful, and shameful. And for some reason, sad too.

Emotions she couldn't understand herself poured out like a breached dam. Even knowing he looked down at her like the world's most pathetic sight, her sobs only grew more intense.

Erna covered her face again with both hands. The tears streaming along her palms felt hot.

Biern watched his bawling wife with the face of an audience at a disastrously botched play.

It was an utterly absurd situation, but even now, her pretty body was worth looking at. Her slender limbs and pert breasts, the stark contrast with her youthful face and soft curves—despite her small stature, she didn't feel immature at all.

Honestly, she exceeded expectations.

Biern was quite satisfied with his wife's body, as beautiful as her face. Enough to grant this level of indulgence to a woman pulling such madness.

As the intensity of her sobs eased a bit, Erna looked up at him clingingly, then whispered "Biern" amid sniffles, repeating it vacantly. She seemed unaware of what she even wanted to say.

Biern sighed deeply, raking a hand through his hair. The thick scent of her body lingering on his hand amplified the irritation of the situation.

A woman who got wet and mewled prettily, only to suddenly wail uncontrollably.

It was the moment he realized his arrogance in thinking himself hardened by every kind of drunkard he'd encountered. Especially shocking was that she induced this bewilderment stone-cold sober.

Biern looked down at the troublesome woman with narrowed eyes. In bed, it was just about pleasure. He had no hobby of coaxing and soothing a whining novice. He didn't want the hassle.

Thus, his bride before him was a conundrum even for Biern. Normally, he'd drop it without regret, but the issue was that Erna was his wife—the woman who ought to be his.

"I'm sorry, Biern."

Erna, meeting his eyes, apologized through sobs. Biern let out a scoff at the sudden sense of déjà vu.

Come to think of it, this wasn't the first woman to act so annoyingly in bed. There was precedent. Gladys. His first wife.

Of all things, another one like her.

Biern scoffed again at the filthy feeling of crawling back into that mire of his own accord. It was then that Erna's small hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey, I keep promises. I'm not deceiving you. I'll keep it."

Her demeanor was horrifically identical to being ravaged, but the words babbling from those pretty lips were utterly different from the woman in his memories.

"But I'm a bit scared... It's unfamiliar, and strange..."

Her fear-filled eyes, wandering the room, settled on his face again.

"I'll keep the promise, though..."

Promise. That damn promise.

The word Erna conveyed while trembling made Biern baffled. What was this? He felt like a loan shark come to collect a debt.

Well, true. Even when she'd indebted herself for the trophy value, she'd been like this. If he hadn't waived the debt using the boat ride as an excuse, she'd still be paying it off. Diligently, as a model debtor. Making harmony diligently.

As the image surfaced of her offering a flower as proof of the promise, smiling like that flower, Biern felt even more deflated and let out a long sigh. Taking it as reproach, Erna flinched and withdrew her hand from his shoulder. Her efforts to wipe away tears with her shaking hands stirred both annoyance and pity.

Biern decided not to gauge just how ignorant this woman was anymore.

She knew nothing.

The audacity of House Hardy sending off their daughter in this state was astounding. Considering her stepmother scheming with her husband for marriage deals and her grandmother living in the last century, it wasn't entirely incomprehensible.

A woman who'd even planned to elope with him—he'd never laid a finger on her. Was that painter impotent or something?

Gazing at his wife, rumored across the kingdom as a seductress yet in reality this blank slate without a plan, Biern let out a heavy sigh and got off the bed. Amid the peak irritation, the amusing bewilderment of his arousal hit him, drawing an involuntary chuckle.

Composing himself, Biern picked up the bottle and glass on the table and returned to the bed. In the meantime, Erna had grabbed the lace robe pushed to her feet and was clumsily covering her bare body. Seeming like she'd settle with even that much, he pretended not to notice.

"Your tolerance. What's it like?"

At his question as he poured, Erna's eyes widened round.

"I'm... not sure."

"How much have you had at most?"

"One glass."

One glass. Biern murmured lowly, holding a full glass and standing before the bed.

"H-Having one full glass made me really hot and dizzy."

As if not wanting to seem a clueless fool, Erna quickly added. Her face still wet with tears, but her eyes and expression were sharp and clear, like the woman he knew well.

Biern nodded, sat on the bed's edge, and handed her the glass.

"Drink."

Erna alternated glances between the rosy liquid sloshing in the glass and his face, then let out a small "Ah" and lowered her eyes. The shadow of her fluttering lashes trembled over her reddened eyelids.

"Drink and endure, Erna."

His added command was smoother and cooler than the feel of the glass in her hand.