Chapter 58

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 58

Chapter Title: Grow Strong, O Self

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The deep night sea was utter darkness.

Each time the black waves crashed against the massive hull, white foam scattered like screams. The eerie sounds unnoticed during the noisy day now greatly fueled the fear. The crunching of chocolate—crunch crunch—spread across the vast sea on plumes of white breath. The rustling of the paper bag accompanied it.

Erna gazed at the night sea that seemed to swallow everything whole, munching on yet another chocolate—she'd long since given up counting. Her hands gripping the railing and her cheeks were frozen red, but she felt no cold.

She'd impulsively slipped out of her cabin just past midnight. Thanks to Biern returning early, it had been a rare peaceful night, but Erna couldn't fall asleep easily.

Anger?

No, it felt too profoundly sad for that.

Sadness, perhaps?

Yet it was too resolute to call mere sadness.

Unable to shake off that indefinable emotion—like heartburn—Erna clutched her bag of chocolates and stepped out onto the deck. Lisa had pressed it on her, insisting sweets were the cure for melancholy. Lisa had been utterly furious upon learning belatedly of the connection between Viscountess Forrester and Princess Gladys. Even the seasoned head maid, Karen, had flinched.

In this massive ship, Lisa is the only one truly on my side.

That realization had left her feeling utterly lonely. She'd steeled herself to become a grand duchess unwelcome everywhere, but realizing even her husband wasn't on her side chilled her heart inescapably.

Is he really a poisonous mushroom?

Chewing on the doubt that rippled like the night sea, Erna popped another chocolate into her mouth.

Images of the Biern Dynister the world gossiped about rose one by one from the abyssal darkness: the kingdom's troublesome prince, playboy, prodigal, bad man.

But the Biern Erna knew was different. He had those traits to some degree, but he was no such person as his reputation claimed. If the rumors were true, Biern should be no different from his father. But he absolutely wasn't. He couldn't be.

But what if her judgment was wrong?

Erna stared blankly at the star-filled night sky. Each time she slowly opened her eyes, the white starlight blurred more hazily.

'She was too naive about the world.'

People often said that about her mother.

'To trust a man like that so completely. So foolish.'

The conclusion was always the same: a pitiful woman made unhappy by excessive innocence. The foolish Annette Baden.

As her once-wilting mother took to her sickbed day by day, the whispering voices grew louder. It was back when House Baden's fortunes were better than now, when there were at least some servants who dared speak up.

Erna would sneak into the pantry off the kitchen, rummaging through cookie jars, and overhear them. Most was too complex for a child to grasp, but she instinctively knew why her mother was ill and who the man making her suffer was.

Hiding in the pitch-black pantry, clutching a half-eaten cookie, ear cocked to the murmurs—it all felt like it echoed in her ears again. Memories resurfaced in the hazy starlight: her mother departing the world, her grandparents weeping as if their breaths would give out, her father briefly showing his cold face at the funeral before vanishing.

My beloved child, please be happy—for Annette's share as well.

Erna knew all too well the desperate plea in those words. She knew she was also a stand-in for their tragically departed daughter in her grandparents' eyes. So she had to be happy. For her mother's share, without fail.

As her vision cleared, Erna slowly turned around. Smoke from the massive smokestacks billowed away into the dark sea beyond.

Biern's proffered red rose. Her grandmother's tears of joy. The prince's second wedding that set the whole kingdom abuzz. There was no erasing any of it. Engraving that fact firmly in her mind, her turbid heart began to clear bit by bit.

Steadying her breath, Erna turned back to the scene before her. Her tousled brown hair and coat flaps fluttered in the harsh wind.

Still, Erna wanted to believe. The man who appeared in her crises, offering his hand. That steadfast gaze and warmth, that smile sometimes like love. She wanted to trust her own judgment—and Biern—over idle rumors.

Let's love our fate.

Firming her resolve, Erna ate the last chocolate. It was so sweet her teeth ached, but as Lisa said, her melancholy had lifted considerably.

It was a fate too grand and overwhelming, but she herself—not anyone else—had chosen it. So shirking responsibility or regretting it was cowardice. Even if it was a naively innocent choice born of worldly ignorance, nothing changed. Even if she'd swallowed a poisonous mushroom whole, Erna had a duty to survive and find happiness.

Folding the empty paper bag neatly and tucking it into her coat pocket, Erna pulled a handkerchief from the other and meticulously wiped her frozen red hands. Then, with calm resolve etched on her face, she turned away.

Grow strong, O self.

Repeating the vow with each step, Erna hurried back to her cabin. The brisk patter of her footsteps echoing across the deck was as cool and clear as the wind blowing over the night sea.

The ship that departed Lechen arrived at its destination the next morning: Lars, Princess Gladys's homeland and their first honeymoon stop.

* * *

Biern finished preparing by straightening the sash across his shoulder and the drapery. Stepping back before the mirror, his squire quietly approached with gloves and ceremonial sword at the ready.

Biern regarded his reflection calmly as he donned the gloves and took the sword. The deep black uniform, blue sash, and gleaming golden embellishments lent him the dignified air of a prince—no trace remained of the problem child gossiped about by dilettantes.

"Are you sure about a private audience, Your Highness?"

The squire draped a coat over the prince's shoulders, his face etched with worry as he asked.

Biern had declared he would meet Lars's king alone—no grand duchess, no delegation member accompanying him. Everyone fretted anxiously, but the man himself remained utterly at ease.

"Afraid Lechen's prince might get flogged by Lars's king?"

"F-Flogging, sir?!"

"That's exactly why I must meet him alone. It'd be less embarrassing for me that way, right?"

Biern flashed a roguish grin with his cheeky jest. Meeting the prince's cool, sunken gaze, the squire said no more and withdrew.

Biern strode across the bedroom with wide steps.

It had been nearly three days since arriving in Lars. The first day was a flurry moving from the ship to this manor palace, the royal guest quarters. The second was full rest. Today was when the real schedule began.

"Biern."

Entering the drawing room, Erna rose hastily from her chair, looking for all the world like a wife seeing her husband off to battle.

"Are you really sure it's okay?"

"If it's not, will you come with me?"

"If that's what you want, gladly."

Erna replied with utmost sincerity to his playful remark. The ribbon band around her head swayed gently as she nodded.

Gazing down at his wife, Biern couldn't help but let out a deflating chuckle.

Since disembarking, Erna had brimmed with determination to excel as grand duchess. "What about this? How about that?" She'd chattered busily about what she thought befitted the role. Most were absurd, but endearingly so—he couldn't bring himself to shut her down. Even in bed, her prattling had demanded more kisses than usual to quiet her.

"Later."

Biern gently caressed the cheek of his wife standing seriously before him.

"Avenge me if I come back whipped."

"What? Even so, how could I ever... against you..."

Erna's shocked eyes slowly narrowed.

"Another mean joke."

Even her sharp retort only made Biern chuckle unperturbed.

Erna sighed softly, gazing at her husband. He was a riddle in many ways, but she was certain of one thing: he loved teasing his wife.

"Don't worry, Bee."

His long fingers slowly traced her lips.

"If there's a fight, I'll win."

"Don't joke like that, Biern. I'm really worried."

"About what?"

As his gloved fingertip brushed the inside of her lip, Erna startled and pushed his hand away. Flushed as if caught in mischief, while Biern remained utterly nonchalant—making her even more embarrassed.

"It's because of me."

Holding that hand, Erna voiced her hesitant worry with a slightly downcast face.

"Because I married you, so Lechen and Lars's relations..."

"Erna."

The amusement faded from Biern's narrowed gaze.

"There's no issue between Lechen and Lars. Nor will there be, just as before."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Biern was certain. Considering what he'd endured for it, the alliance between the two nations had to remain ironclad forever—and he would ensure it did.

He wouldn't involve his wife in that.

When deciding on Lars as their first honeymoon destination, Biern had already resolved it. It couldn't be omitted from the itinerary, but unavoidable—so he'd handle it swiftly on his own terms.

Erna pondered briefly, then nodded obediently, releasing his hand. But her eyes still held lingering worry and guilt.

"Thank you. Sorry I can't be of help."

"Then help me from behind later."

"...Pardon?"

Her eyes widened round at the whisper in her ear. She glanced around, looked back at him, frowned in disbelief, then gaped in shock again.

Biern chuckled again, amused. She'd reacted the same that first night he'd turned her over. Insisting she was a lady, not a beast, soothing his teary-eyed wife had been troublesome—but worth every effort. Since then, Erna had been especially ashamed of that position, but Biern liked it precisely for that. The sadistic thrill of gazing down at her trembling helplessly beneath him.

Kissing his wife's flushed cheek, Biern finally left the drawing room. Erna saw him off hesitantly, eyeing him like a rogue, yet it was one of her self-proclaimed grand duchess duties: daily send-offs and welcomes.

"Um, Biern."

Just as the carriage door was closing, Erna called to him.

Biern, settled deep in the seat, turned his gaze to her.

"Will you be late?"

"Probably."

"Can we still have dinner together?"

Erna looked at him with eyes like an abandoned young animal. Biern nodded readily after a moment's thought. Only then did Erna's face relax into a bright smile of relief.

Erna waved a small hand toward the departing carriage. The white hand fluttering like petals brought a smile to Biern's lips—not his habitual one, but softer, touched with a hint more warmth.