Chapter 51

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 51

Chapter Title: Deer Are Dangerous

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Biern let out an involuntary sigh laced with laughter. Even in that brazen moment, as if she'd come looking for something she'd left behind, Erna's cheeks were flushed pink.

"Erna."

The tips of Biern's fingers, stroking her windpipe, carried an unconscious force.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Of course I am."

She hesitated for a moment, but Erna soon gave a resolute answer.

"I'm begging you sincerely. Please?"

Her repeated pleading seemed almost desperate.

Biern stared at his wife for a long moment before bursting into empty laughter. He could tell now that she wasn't playing some silly trick. And also that this woman had no idea what she was even saying.

Her "education" probably amounted to nothing more than opening some stuffy old book and spouting vague platitudes.

She'd run away in shock from that paltry amount, and now? You teach me?

His wife's provocation, born of ignorance, was both endearing and infuriating.

"Biern."

Her voice trembled faintly as she called his name. As Biern loosened his tie just a bit, there came a sharp, polite knock.

"Your Highness, it's Mrs. Fitz."

The moment the expected voice sounded, Erna's eyes visibly wavered. She looked like a pitiful prey animal chased by hunters.

"Yes. Come in."

No sooner had he answered than the door opened, and Mrs. Fitz entered with a sterner expression than usual.

"So you were here after all, Your Highness."

Upon spotting Erna, Mrs. Fitz's face took on the expression she always wore when she'd found the young prince who'd caused trouble and hidden away. Biern suppressed a laugh and took another sip of water.

"You mustn't do this. Please return to your place at once."

Even as she listened to Mrs. Fitz's scolding, Erna kept stealing glances at Biern. Her eyes looked ready to well up with tears.

"Let her stay, Mrs. Fitz."

Biern, fiddling with his empty glass, made an impulsive decision. Mrs. Fitz stared at him in bewilderment.

"But Your Highness..."

"She's suffering so much from the rain. What choice do we have?"

It sounded utterly ridiculous even to his own ears, but Biern didn't take it back. Erna, who had been watching him anxiously in disbelief, finally broke into a relieved smile. The infinite trust she showed him now—when she'd only cowered and cried beneath him earlier—left Biern even more baffled.

"Tell the guest to stay as planned. Think of it as her taking a few days' vacation."

"...Yes."

She seemed quite upset by the situation, but Mrs. Fitz skillfully suppressed her emotions.

"But ending things this way would be disrespectful to Mrs. Peg. Your Highness should seek her pardon personally and bring it to a proper close."

"Yes. Of course."

Biern readily agreed and glanced at Erna. Nodding vigorously as if to say she could handle that much easily, Erna scrambled to her feet and hurried to Mrs. Fitz's side.

"Mrs. Peg, was it? Please tell her I'll have dinner with our guest, who's come such a long way."

Biern covered his whim with a suitable proposal. Mrs. Fitz's stern glare softened somewhat, as if she deemed it sufficient apology.

After bowing, she led away the troublesome Grand Duchess.

Thank you so much!

Erna mouthed the words as she turned her head slightly. Her shy smile was bright and pure, as if she'd forgotten all about the ordeal awaiting her in satisfaction at escaping the present crisis.

As the door closed and their footsteps faded, the study regained its peace.

Biern tilted his head back, staring up at the high ceiling, and let out an incredulous laugh. An innocent yet cunning woman. He didn't know what contradiction this hot ice or dark sun represented, but his wife was certainly that.

Deer truly are dangerous.

A faint self-mockery at having been caught up in what wasn't even a scheme blended into his intermittent empty chuckles. It felt as if he'd let his guard down and been caught off-guard.

One deer or another. Different breeds, but all unspeakably dangerous.

Biern shook off the stray thoughts with a languid sigh and opened the silver box on the table, taking out a cigar. The time trapped on the ship would be boring anyway, so enjoying the baby deer that had scampered right onto his plate of her own accord wouldn't be so bad. Annoying and irritating in many ways, but delicious all the same, this lady.

Biern lit the cigar and picked up the file binder. As the sighs and chuckles faded into silence, the steady rustle of turning pages began to fill the quiet study.

Gladys opened the photo album with her emaciated, bony hands.

Flipping idly through a few pages, she came upon a photograph from the spring of her nineteenth year, when she had become the Crown Princess of Lechen. It was that very wedding photo, distributed across both kingdoms. The bride and groom, embodiments of Lechen and Lars's honor and pride. Though that glory had long turned to shame, their smiles in the picture still shone brilliantly.

How could she not have loved this man?

As time passed, Gladys found it harder and harder to understand her younger self. No matter how blinded by youthful infatuation she had been, how could she have been so foolish?

Of course, Gerald was a good man. Gerald Owen. Lars's genius poet, the princess's lover. And Karl's father.

Gladys downed another glass of liquor and turned the page with trembling hands. Seeing the face of the eternally boyish, beautiful man made the tears pooling in her eyes cascade down. By the time she reached the next photo, of the adorable baby who resembled her so closely, her quiet tears had turned to sobs.

Karl Dynister.

Biern had never once seen the child, but at least the royal family had permitted his name. It was the price of the secret pact between Lechen and Lars, and thanks to it, Karl had been able to live his short life honorably.

A man she was both grateful to and sorry for.

To Gladys, Biern had always been that. Even now, as he made that absurd marriage to render her miserable, nothing had changed.

Gladys wept uncontrollably until deep into the dawn before finally stopping. Staggering to her feet, she opened the window, letting in a cold wind.

She had met Gerald by chance at a social gathering in the spring of her seventeenth year and fallen in love. It was right in the midst of the marriage negotiations between Lechen and Lars.

Was it precisely because she knew it could never be that her feelings grew all the more tender?

First love was like an uncontrollable fever. At one point, she even dreamed of abandoning everything to run away with him to the ends of the earth. But in the end, Gladys knelt before reality and became Lechen's Crown Princess as ordained. Never dreaming that his child was growing in her womb.

"If you're going to do it, you should have slept with me and at least pretended the child was mine."

Biern's words, spat out with contemptuous laughter upon learning of his untouched wife's pregnancy, had been right. It might have led to a better outcome for everyone.

But Gladys hadn't been able to do it.

Though she went through with the wedding, she couldn't bring herself to embrace another man while cherishing memories of passionate love, shedding only tears. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. Biern gazed silently for a long while at Gladys as she lay naked, sobbing, then left the bedroom with a deep sigh.

"When you gain the confidence not to act so distastefully in bed, tell me, Princess. Until then, I'll gladly wait."

The next morning, he spoke coldly and indifferently to Gladys as she sat at the table with swollen eyes.

Even with the terrified, weeping Gladys before him, Biern ate his breakfast unperturbed. The next day, and the day after. It continued throughout their long honeymoon.

For a time, it was the memories of first love that kept her from accepting another man. But at some point, her husband's cold cruelty became so frightening that she could no longer approach him. Spring passed, and summer came—the cruel season that set all of Lechen abuzz with news of the Crown Princess's pregnancy.

If only she hadn't clung to that childish love. If only she'd been cunning enough to fool everyone. Then no one would have ended up so unhappy.

Gladys shed tears again into the chill autumn wind. She hated her own honesty that had deceived no one. She hated it so fiercely her chest felt like it would burst.

On the day her pregnancy was revealed, Gladys confessed the truth in despair. Biern, listening calmly, silenced her tears with utterly unexpected words.

"Keep living quietly, just as you have been."

His voice, stripped of anger, was so low it instilled even greater fear.

"Celebrate your pregnancy with joy, and continue being the exemplary Crown Princess as you have. Understood, Princess?"

Biern's face showed no expression as he regarded the trembling, speechless Gladys.

Days like that followed once more.

Days of superficial perfect happiness and peace, hollow pretenses. Had Gladys borne a daughter, Biern might have let those days continue forever.

But a son was born, and less than a year after their grand wedding, Gladys returned to her homeland. Outwardly, with Biern Dynister's son. The hope that perhaps there she could live happily again with Gerald, the child's true father, soon faded.

Gerald, when they met again, was unchanged from before. He still loved Gladys and tried his best to be a good father to Karl.

He was a good man.

Gladys knew that all too well. Being with him was comfortable and warm, a great comfort. Yet love was no longer as fervent as before. Moments of ambiguous smiles tinged with guilt increased, and with them, the time she spent blankly thinking of Biern grew longer.

Gerald passed away a season after Gladys had wept over memories of her ex-husband. It was a pistol suicide. And soon after, Karl succumbed to a fever. Only after all those misfortunes had passed did Gladys realize it. The feelings for Biern that she hadn't noticed when she thought they were naturally hers.

But now it was all meaningless.

Gladys flung herself onto the bed, leaving the window open. She no longer cared about the cold wind carrying in the chill. Even if she never woke again, it wouldn't matter.

But morning came as always, and Gladys opened her eyes amid profound despair.

"Princess, please don't do this. Are you truly thinking of ending your life?"

Turning toward the tearful voice at her bedside, she saw her loyal maid's face.

"I need to return to Lars. Prepare to depart within the week."

Propped up by the maid, Gladys murmured in a listless voice.

The maid's face lit up at the words she'd awaited so long, only for a dark shadow to fall over it soon after. Everyone in Lechen knew the Grand Duke and Duchess would set sail for Lars on their honeymoon in a few days.

"B-but Princess. That would mean taking the same ship as the Grand Duke couple..."

"What does it matter to me what those two do."

Gladys muttered blankly, staring into empty space.

"It's all become meaningless now."

With those final words, Gladys lay back down on the bed.

The maid could not persuade the princess in the end.