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CHAPTER 03
Even before the sea of people that stretched across the platform, Biern showed no trace of unease.
From the day he was born, he had lived beneath the gaze of an entire kingdom. Public attention was as natural to him as breathing. The faint discomfort that occasionally accompanied it had long since become insignificant.
“Stand back! Make way!”
The servants’ commanding voices rang across the crowded station. Slowly, the restless crowd parted, giving way to the prince’s procession.
Biern walked with effortless grace, his back straight and his chin held high. Every now and then, he met someone’s eyes and offered a brief, courteous smile. It was an instinct born of years of royal duty rather than conscious effort.
To him, each face was simply another passing stranger.
She would have been no different.
Only the girl’s oddly striking appearance caused his gaze to linger for a heartbeat longer.
Wrapped in layers of lace and ribbons, the young woman looked as though she had stepped straight out of another century. Her old-fashioned dress overflowed with floral patterns, and the hat perched upon her head, adorned with tiny blossoms, completed the peculiar image.
As he passed her, Biern shifted his attention to the man beside her whose face burned crimson with anger. The fellow, who had only moments earlier been loudly condemning the kingdom’s notorious prodigal prince, instinctively staggered back under Biern’s gaze.
Yet the prince offered him the very same calm, gracious smile.
Amid equal measures of admiration and criticism, Biern looked like a gentleman enjoying nothing more strenuous than an afternoon stroll.
Leaving behind another collection of fleeting, forgettable faces, he continued at an unhurried pace toward the train that had just arrived.
Knowing the address proved far less useful than Erna had hoped.
She realized that only after wandering the unfamiliar streets until exhaustion had nearly overwhelmed her. By then, the sun had long disappeared below the horizon, and twilight had quietly settled over the city.
With weary steps, Erna made her way to the fountain in the center of Tara Boulevard.
She felt as though she could collapse where she stood, but before sitting on the stone railing, she carefully spread her handkerchief beneath her. No matter how tired she was, she could not bring herself to dirty her dress.
It was her favorite.
Her grandmother had given her the delicate muslin dress for her birthday the year before, and Erna treasured it more than any other possession.
She wasn’t dressing to impress her father.
She simply wished to carry herself with the dignity and manners expected of a proper lady.
Calmly.
Gracefully.
Always.
Those had been her grandmother’s guiding principles throughout her life, and they had become the legacy she entrusted to her granddaughter.
Though Erna bore the surname Hardy, she had also inherited the pride of the Baden family. As a lady of that house, she believed it was her duty to uphold its honor.
As she carefully smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, the gas lamps around the square flickered to life one by one.
Having finished his rounds, the lamplighter climbed back onto his bicycle and disappeared toward the next street.
For several quiet moments, Erna simply watched in fascination.
She had never seen anything like it before.
Eventually, she rose again and picked up her luggage.
The aching pain in her swollen feet seemed to fade the moment she reminded herself that she still had to find the house before night fully settled.
She walked beneath rows of glowing gas lamps, their warm golden light spilling across the quiet boulevard.
Petals drifted through the evening breeze like gentle snow, softening the darkness into something almost magical.
“Wow…”
The innocent gasp escaped her lips before she realized it.
Looking up, she saw a brilliant full moon shining through branches heavy with blossoms.
It was the very same moon she had watched through her bedroom window the previous night, unable to sleep.
The simple realization—that the moon remained unchanged no matter where she was—filled her heart with unexpected comfort.
Drawing a quiet breath, Erna gathered her courage and continued down the road.
At last…
She found it.
The address she had repeated over and over like a desperate prayer.
An old mansion standing at the western end of Tara Boulevard.
Hardy Hall.
The place that had once been her home.
Before reaching for the bell, Erna carefully straightened her dress one final time.
She squared her shoulders.
She softened her smile into one that was gentle, polite, and welcoming.
Whether it looked convincing or not, she couldn’t tell.
But by her own standards…
It would do.
“It’s all right.”
She whispered the lie she no longer believed.
Then, with trembling fingers, Erna reached out and rang the bell.
“I truly don’t understand you.”
Louise’s bright, impatient voice sliced cleanly through the lively strains of chamber music.
Biern slowly opened the eyes he had been resting.
Tilting his head slightly, he found his younger sister standing so close she was nearly in his face.
Unlike Louise, whose emotions were written plainly across her features, Biern regarded her with calm, unreadable eyes.
“Gladys is coming back. Do you realize what that means?”
“I suppose…”
His gaze drifted lazily around the glittering ballroom before returning to Louise.
“It means this summer is likely to be rather unfortunate.”
The answer was delivered with an easy smile.
Its indifference made the words sting even more.
“Oh, honestly!”
Louise threw up her hands in disbelief.
“How can you talk about Gladys like that? You’re the one who hurt her. You’re the one who threw her away!”
She looked personally offended.
Biern, however, merely lifted his glass of water.
Droplets of condensation slid lazily down the crystal, tracing the length of his elegant fingers.
The charity gala had been an undeniable success.
Once word spread that the beloved Queen herself would attend, ladies from every corner of the kingdom flocked to Schwerin.
The director of the Royal Hospital could scarcely stop smiling after witnessing the generosity inspired by their donations.
The evening lacked for nothing.
Exquisite cuisine.
Beautiful music.
The most distinguished names in high society.
Everything had been prepared with enough elegance to honor the Queen’s presence.
Even the Grand Duke’s sacrifice of a night’s sleep to escort Her Majesty had been worthwhile.
It should have been a perfectly pleasant spring evening.
If only Princess Louise would stop buzzing around him like an irritated bee.
“Brother… please.”
Her tone softened.
“Fix your mistake. Please.”
Louise had once championed Biern’s marriage to Gladys more passionately than anyone.
Now, after their bitter divorce, she had become his fiercest critic.
“Of course, what you did isn’t easily forgiven. But if Gladys is willing… perhaps the two of you could—”
“The Duchess of Heine.”
Biern gently interrupted.
His smile remained perfectly pleasant.
His eyes did not.
“It seems the Duke is searching for his wife.”
He nodded discreetly toward the Duke of Heine, who stood awkwardly beyond the ballroom, trying to retrieve Louise from a circle of noblewomen.
Louise bit back several replies before releasing a defeated sigh.
Without another word, she reluctantly walked away.
The orchestra began another waltz.
Rising from his seat, Biern strolled through the ballroom, passing ladies whose hopeful glances carried equal measures of anticipation and caution.
Beyond the terrace doors, gentlemen had gathered beneath the evening sky to smoke cigars.
“Biern! Over here!”
Recognizing the familiar voice, he changed direction.
Normally, the group would have been engrossed in pointless debates.
Tonight, however, they looked like mourners attending a funeral.
Several nursed glasses of brandy with expressions so miserable they seemed ready to burst into tears.
“The investment collapsed.”
Peter thrust a glass of amber liquor toward him.
Biern accepted it casually and leaned against the railing.
“Investment?”
“Foreign government bonds.”
Peter sighed heavily.
“It turned out to be a complete fraud.”
Biern’s only response was the faintest crease between his brows.
Apparently, more fools than expected had been swept up in the latest investment craze.
“My lord… thank heavens I listened to you.”
Peter leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“You saved my fortune.”
The moment Peter had heard about the irresistible opportunity, he had rushed straight to Schwerin Palace.
Everyone in society believed Prince Biern possessed two gifts granted by heaven.
Women.
And money.
That day, after patiently listening to Peter’s excited explanation, Biern had summed up the entire affair in only two words.
“You idiot.”
Softly spoken.
Perfectly polite.
And somehow far more humiliating than any shouted insult.
Peter had nearly committed the crime of striking a member of the royal family.
Had it been anyone else, he probably would have.
Still…
Being called an idiot was a small price to pay for keeping his fortune intact.
Besides, following Biern’s advice had earned him a handsome profit from a steel company instead.
Thinking about it now almost made him fond of the infuriating prince.
If Peter had earned that much by merely following Biern’s suggestion, how much wealth had Biern accumulated himself?
His talent for making money bordered on the supernatural.
It was one of the few reasons Peter tolerated his insufferable personality.
“You have to catch those swindlers, Biern!”
Another young noble burst in dramatically.
“There are countless victims.”
He began listing names.
Most belonged to sons of noble families.
One unfamiliar name, however, caught Biern’s attention.
“Viscount Hardy lost nearly everything.”
The speaker lowered his voice.
“They say he’s on the verge of shooting himself.”
Hardy.
An unfamiliar name.
Perhaps the greatest fool among them all.
After taking one last draw from his cigar, Biern turned toward the moonlit gardens below.
Beyond the drifting smoke, white blossoms shimmered beneath the night sky.
His gaze settled upon a bed of delicate flowers.
Lily of the valley.
He remembered the name immediately.
Gladys had carried them on their wedding day.
For a brief time, the flowers had become so fashionable that florists could barely keep them in stock.
But, like everything associated with that marriage, the trend had quickly faded.
Come to think of it…
The oddly dressed young woman at the station had worn lily of the valley on her hat.
A flower whose fashion had passed years ago.
Biern quietly hummed along with the distant waltz drifting from the ballroom as another stream of smoke escaped his lips.
No wonder.
Without another glance at the flowers, his eyes lifted instead to the pale full moon hanging silently above.
Even beneath such a beautiful sky…
Luck remained nowhere to be found.
