Anne Blyn and the Early Celebration
Olivia. Olivia. Everywhere, it was Olivia Blanchet.
At this point, her name had become so ubiquitous, it felt like she was an indispensable figure in Britte. Normally, Anne Blyn would have been annoyed, but today she was completely at ease.
“The results should be out by now.”
“They’ll arrive soon.”
The clear, early autumn sun added a golden glow to Britte Palace’s grand gardens, but inside the botanical garden, the greenery was still lush as if it were the height of summer. In this earthly paradise, Anne Blyn and Kayla enjoyed whiskey sours as they waited for the Supreme Court’s decision. The sunlight pouring through the glass ceiling was perfectly gentle for sunbathing.
The unusually clear weather seemed a fitting, though small, consolation for Olivia, who was about to fall so miserably. It might even be the last sunlight she ever sees. To dare to stand her in front of a court, she must have been prepared for such an outcome.
Last night, Alex had a private meeting with Lord Chief Justice Nigel. The conclusion was already decided. There was no need to even confirm the result. Her gaze, which had been fixed on the red petals of a rare tropical plant, slowly shifted to Kayla. Her deep red lips curved into a smile, a clear expression of victorious joy.
“Kayla. When this is all over, how about we go on a trip to Krantz?”
“Really?”
“Let’s ask Katherine to come, too.”
“Yes, Anne. I’m looking forward to it.”
Anne Blyn and Kayla laughed and raised their glasses. Clink. The thin glasses met, producing a clear sound. It was a premature toast, but it didn’t seem out of place. Unless an unforeseen event occurred, the result would surely not be overturned.
Just as she was about to put down her glass with only ice left, the sound of footsteps on the stone floor approached quickly. The person who soon appeared from between the large tropical plant leaves was Cecil, her secretary. In Cecil’s hand was a note from a newly arrived informant.
Edgar and the Contradictory Hope
After finishing his workout in the hotel’s gym, Edgar headed for the shower. In the unwanted free time that came after losing management of Lanselot, he usually came here. By mindlessly lifting ridiculously heavy weights to his limit, he could momentarily halt the thoughts that plagued his mind.
But today, even that seemed to be of no help.
Edgar rubbed his face with the towel around his neck, and with his other hand, he turned on the faucet. Water poured out with a whoosh and splashed off his hard muscles.
The results should be out by now.
As he estimated the time, he swept back his hair, which was wet and stuck to his forehead. He lightly rubbed his eyes as water seeped in, then suddenly let out a bitter laugh.
He had a fleeting, petty thought. ‘I wish the motion would be dismissed.’
Just like the day she came to him, her face a mess of wounds after the Count Blanchet’s attack. If she were to be cornered once more, with nowhere to go.
Then, Olivia, would you come to me?
The stream of water fell like rain. Under it, Edgar recalled a spring day filled with blooming flowers. The woman who ran to him under the midday sun, her wide-brimmed hat fluttering. The moment he was enchanted by her.
If that was the case, Edgar would willingly wish for her ruin.
The thought made him unbearably curious about the Supreme Court’s decision. Edgar turned off the faucet.
He emerged from the bathroom. He was once again dressed neatly in a white shirt, a straight tie, and a jacket. Just as he was about to leave the gym, the door opened and Gerald rushed in, a note in his hand.
Olivia’s Anxious Wait
The grandfather clock on the pale pink floral wallpaper rang out thunderously. Startled, Olivia almost dropped the duplicate indictment she was holding. It was a result of her constant tension. She set the document down for a moment and massaged her cold fingertips while looking at the clock. It was already noon.
Olivia picked up the indictment again. No matter how hard she tried to focus, the content wouldn’t sink in due to her anxiety.
It shouldn’t be this late.
As the expected time passed by, her nerves started to fray. The ticking of the clock seemed unusually loud, as if it were a drum beating her heart faster. She felt breathless.
What if, by some chance, it’s dismissed?
She recalled the background of Peter Nigel that she had read in a newspaper. A staunch royalist. The other judges’ backgrounds and political leanings were not much different. A sudden fear gripped her, wondering if she had started a fight with a far too obvious outcome.
‘Will it… be indicted?’
‘Probably.’
The man’s calm voice came to mind, but it was no help. His attitude had been far too indifferent to be reassuring.
“Madam, you should eat.”
Anne brought in a tray with coffee and a sandwich.
“I’ll eat later, Anne. Thank you.”
“I’ll go check.”
Anne was just as unable to focus. It would be faster to go to the Supreme Court than to wait for an extra edition of the newspaper.
“You don’t need to worry, Anne. I’m sorry to have caused you this trouble.”
Olivia gave a faint smile. Anne, who had been looking at her with concern, bowed her head and disappeared into the kitchen. Olivia wrapped her still-cold hands around the hot teacup.
Please, let the first button to condemn Anne Blyn be fastened securely.
Looking at the steam rising from the teacup, Olivia hoped and hoped.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of a doorbell. She lifted her gaze from the swirling black tea. She could see Anne hurrying through the open parlor door. After Anne checked the visitor, she heard the neat footsteps of a man walking down the marble hallway.
“…”
The man who walked leisurely into the parlor without permission was Johan Leopold. In his hand was a single note.
The Verdict: A Moment of Mixed Feelings
At last, the doors of the Great Assembly Hall opened. It was the time of day when the sunlight blanketing all of Lytton began to ripen into gold.
Lord Chief Justice Peter Nigel walked out with an unreadable expression. The faces of Supreme Court Justice Carlos and the other judges who followed him were visibly tired from the long hours. They looked faintly pale.
Nigel’s aide handed the sealed result to the prosecutor general’s aide, who was waiting. The aide took the envelope and quickly left the building, promptly getting into a carriage.
“Is it an indictment?”
“What was the result? Please answer!”
As reporters clung to the carriage and fired questions, camera flashes exploded. The area in front of the Supreme Court instantly turned into chaos.
Meanwhile, those who had been hiding like shadows also moved swiftly. Inside the silent Supreme Court, the quiet scratching of a fountain pen on a note could be heard. They passed the notes to informants hidden in the darkness. Without hesitation, the informants mounted their horses.
The street instantly became a tangled mess as the informants raced toward the West Palace of Britte, Golden Avenue, and Royal Park, and the reporters’ carriages chased the one heading to the prosecutor’s office. Above the chaos, the sky, dyed by the sunset, rippled.
Cecil, Gerald, and Johan Leopold each handed over a note.
The word hastily scrawled on the paper that Anne Blyn, Edgar, and Olivia slowly unfolded was:
PASS
It was a moment of intersecting joy and sorrow.
The True Mastermind
The previous evening.
Lord Chief Justice Peter Nigel had a meeting with the Crown Prince at Britte Palace.
‘I trust only you, Marquis.’
The Crown Prince’s request was simple: Ensure the princess is never summoned to court. Uphold the prestige of the royal family.
The House of Nigel was a prestigious family that had loyally served the royal family, upholding the law of Britte for generations. Although the family was on the verge of extinction without an heir, Nigel would remain loyal as long as the royal family needed him.
Nigel, who had respectfully bowed to the Crown Prince, left the palace and boarded his carriage. He was a perfectionist. To re-examine the legal grounds for his right of refusal, should the princess’s court summons be accepted, he decided to return to the Supreme Court, even at this late hour.
Arriving at the building, he headed straight for his office. Moonlight poured in between the colossal marble columns supporting the high ceiling. The sound of his weary footsteps echoed heavily in the silent corridor.
He arrived at his office, located in the innermost, central part of the building. He took out the key he kept on a gold chain in his waistcoat pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
“…”
For a moment, as if he had seen a ghost, Nigel froze in shock. How on earth had someone managed to get into the heart of the Supreme Court, with its ironclad security?
The tall figure standing by the window, where the pale moonlight streamed in, only showed his back, but even his indistinct silhouette made it impossible to not know who he was. One of the hallmarks of the royal family of Rhondos: noble platinum hair.
Peter Nigel involuntarily swallowed hard. The duke slowly turned around. A puff of white smoke he exhaled into the darkness rippled and spread through the air. Through it, a pair of gray eyes looked back at him.
“I was just taking the liberty of using an empty room, Marquis.”
His low voice was as dry as the autumn wind. Peter Nigel looked at the duke with a dumbfounded expression.
“Please, have a seat.”
Even in this moment of brazen audacity, where he used a hand holding a loose cigarette to invite the owner to his own seat, the duke’s flawless elegance made him seem all the more arrogant. The cold smirk on his lips completed the picture.
It was, in a word, a perfect reversal of roles.
