Chapter 55

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 55

Chapter Title: Smooth Sailing, Perhaps

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Pavel alternated between scrutinizing the familiar handwriting and the unfamiliar seal before letting out a hollow little laugh and setting the letter down.

Erna Dynister...

Repeating that name—which he still couldn't quite get used to—brought the girl to mind. The little sister who would forever remain Erna Hardy in his memory. The darling girl from a rural village, Erna Hardy.

"I'll write to you."

Erna's face, beaming brightly as she saw him off, floated into view over the letter paper crammed with tidy handwriting.

On an autumn evening shortly before the wedding, Baroness Baden had invited him to dinner. She had expressed her deep gratitude—and regret—for all the many debts she'd incurred over the years. Erna had been purely delighted, but Pavel had sensed it vaguely: the baroness's motive in clearing those emotional obligations before the ceremony. His heart chafed like sand in a gust of wind, but since he shared her intentions, he had accepted it calmly.

It had been the last time.

The final moment when Pavel Roer and Erna Hardy could face each other without reservation, under the banner of friendship. That was why he had spoken the end in front of that beautifully smiling child.

"No. Don't write. Our friendship ends here, Your Highness the Grand Duchess. It's the only way you'll be happy."

Pavel had smiled softly, extending his hand to the friend he now had to bid farewell. Erna stared blankly at him for a long moment before finally grasping it—as if to say she understood his intent—nodding with a face struggling to smile brightly.

"Goodbye, Erna."

To his quiet farewell,

"Goodbye, Pavel."

Erna had replied in a voice choked with tears.

That night, she had lingered at the entrance for ages, watching his departing back. Just before rounding the corner, he had glanced over his shoulder and seen her waving faintly—like the little girl from those days, missing one front tooth.

Pavel, who had unconsciously lifted his own hand, slowly lowered it without waving back. Instead, he offered a silent final bow. To the prince's consort who could no longer be his sister.

As if wiping away that lingering memory, Pavel slowly opened his eyes and resumed reading the letter.

I know what you meant. I understand completely. But Pavel, I wanted to give you one last farewell. Mrs. Fitz said that after the wedding, it's proper etiquette to write thank-you letters to family members for times past—and when I heard that, you naturally came to mind.

Thank you.

Thank you for reaching out to the lonely little boy who came home covered in mud. The mule cart you let me ride was wonderful. Thank you for never minding when I pestered and followed you around. The snacks and pretty drawings you gave me—they were all so nice. I'll never forget them. Thank you for being my refuge in this unfamiliar city. And I'm sorry. All I have for you are thanks, yet here I am, unable to repay a thing, only offering this final goodbye.

I won't write anymore. I promise. Really. So don't worry about me.

Our friendship ends here, but I'll treasure those grateful memories it left me for a long, long time. So Pavel—I hope you're always happy.

Goodbye.

Pavel smiled quietly, sensing the girl's sincere heart in every neat letter.

To Pavel Roer, who will surely become Lechen's greatest painter,

From Grand Duchess Erna Dynister, whose path is long but whose resolve is full.

Seeing that spirited final farewell in true Erna fashion eased his heart somewhat.

Pavel tucked the carefully folded letter deep into his desk drawer, gathered his art supplies, and stepped out. Red fallen leaves were already staining the path to the art academy.

What if that day hadn't brought a downpour. What if he had reached the meeting spot before the prince found Erna wandering alone at the station. If only.

The futile thoughts drifting through his mind like leaves in the breeze soon faded away. The same went for his lingering question: why on earth had the prince taken Erna as his second wife?

The past couldn't be undone, and Erna was now the Grand Duchess, off on her honeymoon. So there was only one thing left for Pavel to do: pray that marriage brought her happiness.

May he come to love his wife.

He felt ridiculous harboring such a wish, but Pavel truly hoped for it all the same. Because that would be Erna's happiness.

Biern's bedroom was empty. Faint sounds of water suggested he was in the shower.

Erna closed the door quietly and stepped into her husband's domain. She felt a twinge of guilt for barging in uninvited, but since Biern did the same, once or twice wouldn't hurt.

Scanning for a suitable spot for an intruder, she sat on the sofa by the porthole to catch her breath.

The captain—whom she'd met strolling the deck with Lisa—had said they'd soon pass waters frequented by dolphin pods. Thrilled, Erna had hurried straight back to Biern's cabin.

"Biern!"

As the bathroom door swung open, Erna called out happily to her husband. Spotting her in his casual glance, his eyes narrowed.

"What is it?"

He approached slowly and sat beside her on the sofa. Relieved he didn't seem inclined to snub his uninvited guest, Erna relaxed.

"Have you ever seen dolphins?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like them, then?"

"No."

He swept back his wet hair, offering a curt reply utterly unlike what Erna had expected.

"Even so, Biern—they say seeing dolphins brings good luck."

"Ah. Good luck."

Biern responded indifferently, eyeing his wife. Hat, gloves, parasol demurely laid across her lap. She'd put real effort into her outfit since morning.

"We're about to pass the sea where dolphins often appear. Want to watch together?"

"No."

His tone was firm, belying the smirk on his face.

Erna could vaguely guess where she'd picked up such talk. It had been somewhere around here, on their first honeymoon, when they'd sighted a pod.

They'd been en route to a shipboard party, escorting Gladys. Following the excited passengers out onto the deck, their gazes had turned to the dolphins swimming alongside the ship.

They say seeing dolphins brings good luck.

Someone had mentioned that superstition that day, too.

Looks like great fortune for your marriage.

A sycophant had chimed in with something like that.

They had watched the dolphins' graceful leaps with impassive eyes, flashed the smiles befitting the beloved crown prince and his wife, then left the deck.

Good luck. Good luck, indeed.

With a soft sigh, Biern opened the cigar box on the side table.

"If you're curious, go look, Erna."

"By myself?"

"Yeah."

Biern loosely held an unlit cigar between his fingers, leaning back against the sofa cushions. Erna pondered for a moment, then gave a small shake of her head and set her parasol aside.

"Then I'll look next time."

She knew sulking like this wouldn't sway him, but she gazed at him anyway, eyes tinged with hope.

After a brief pause, he nodded nonchalantly and pulled her into his arms. In an instant, she was on his lap; by the time she registered it, his hands were already removing her hat.

As flustered Erna fumbled about, the hat and cigar tumbled to the floor. Gloves, shawl, and her easily shed dress followed suit. When she finally grasped the situation, only her stockings—puddled at her knees—and shoes remained on her body.

"What are you doing?"

Biern smiled impassively, even as she frowned at him.

"A husband's duty."

His cheeky whisper ended as his lips claimed her breast, awash in the white light flooding through the porthole.

Erna stared dazedly at her husband, engrossed in a "duty" far removed from her own hopes. It wasn't as frightening as the first time, but the embarrassment refused to fade. Oblivious, Biern sucked and licked until her chest was drenched, clouding her senses.

Erna found her husband's brazen desire strangely fascinating. Kissing like this without love. Touching her so shamefully. Wanting her.

The reminder pricked at her heart, but she resolved to believe anyway. Like the ship cruising smoothly, their marriage had settled into normalcy. She wasn't some neglected new bride, so that conclusion felt reasonable enough for now. Even if something still nagged at her.

Recalling the lessons of the past few days, Erna stroked his fine, silken hair as she panted raggedly. She felt him, hot and rigid between her thighs. Mortified, she tried to pull away, but he yanked her back, blocking any escape.

"Why run?"

His scorching hand trailed slowly down her waist to wedge between her legs.

"When you're soaked like this."

Biern whispered with a mischievous grin.

Captured by a blinding haze, Erna averted her eyes amid her heaving breaths. The sky beyond the porthole was clear. The realization brought a sudden wave of shame.

"Ah..."

The moment she reached for the curtain, Biern lifted her lightly and thrust inside. The sigh escaping his lips burned as hot as her own.

"Uh—Biern. Biern."

Holding fast to her squirming form, he drove to the deepest point possible. A sharp cry and a guttural groan erupted in unison. Once Erna—trembling, clinging to his shoulder—could barely steady herself, he began to move without hesitation.

Ah. At her faint whisper, she parted her lips as she'd been taught. Rewarding his diligent pupil, Biern bestowed a gentle kiss and stroked her rigid spine. Her insides, growing supple by degrees, now twitched and clenched around him. Still clumsy, but at least worlds better than that first time. Though her stubborn fixation on closing the curtain—despite her gasping breaths—was rather irksome.

She must still have the presence of mind for nonsense like that.

For some reason, it grated on him. In one swift motion, Biern toppled her onto the sofa. Just as her fingers snagged the curtain's edge, her body tilted; startled, Erna let out a scream. Brighter sunlight poured over her pale form sprawled atop the deep crimson velvet.

"Biern, the curtain..."

"No."

Dismissing her plea, he plunged back inside. Choked by the overwhelming fullness, Erna could only flail helplessly, bereft of further begging.

"You taste delicious."

Her eyes—hazed by building heat—widened round at his ear-licked whisper.

"Your insides... so warm."

Facing her shell-shocked expression, he began a slow roll of his hips.

"Smooth. Soft."

He seized her turning face roughly, smiling down. Even then, the slick sounds of their union echoed unabated.

"Anyway, fucking addictive. Driving me insane."

With that final, bitten-out word, his restraint crumbled.

Releasing the stunned Erna, he sat up and splayed her quivering legs even wider. The faint bruises lingering in her groin deepened the smile tugging at his lips.

"...Heavens."

Erna buried her face in her hands, her expression woeful.

Heavens. He's lost his mind.

Biern chuckled at her teary mumble. It felt like the proper lady's worldview was shattering to pieces. Being stripped bare in broad daylight no longer mortified her—that much was progress, at least.

Gazing down at his blushing bride, Biern redoubled his force and ferocity. Irritably shrugging off his robe—already half-slipped to his elbows—revealed a sleek back glistening with sweat. Beneath his shadow, Erna writhed, loosing moan-screams.

Attuning to those honeyed sounds, Biern suddenly realized she possessed a fine voice. Steady, neither too high nor low, with a clear, velvety timbre that left an impression. Perhaps that explained why her constant chatter never truly grated.

He was tempted to tell her how insanely erotic she sounded moaning like that—but instead, he merely huffed a hot, dry laugh. Better to save it for later; breath for talk was a luxury he no longer possessed.

Beyond the curtain Erna had failed to close, the sky and sea began to glitter with ever more radiant light.