“Saying you were just passing by was obviously a lie.”
But Edgar pretended not to notice as he held out the bouquet.
“Because I’d like to be the second one too.”
That, at least, was true.
The midsummer night breeze carried the scent of flowers.
Why are you doing this to me?
Suppressing the urge to ask that out loud, Olivia said,
“…Unfortunately, you’re the coach.”
Just then, Russell Jr.’s distinctive laugh rang out unpleasantly. Edgar frowned.
The sound of people chatting and laughing filled the silence between the two. The banquet, which she alone hadn’t been invited to, seemed rather lively.
“Then the third?”
“Miss Elaine.”
Edgar let out a short laugh. His eyebrows drooped like a disappointed puppy, and Olivia couldn’t help but smile too.
“The fourth will be Madame Lauren, then.”
Olivia gave a small nod.
Another silence fell between them. Occasionally, hearty laughter and Russell Jr.’s voice leaked from the dining room.
She didn’t really want to go in. She was already exhausted from dealing with people at the party.
“Well, I’ll have to be content with being the first. Take it.”
Olivia reached out her hand. Edgar caught her wrist and pulled her toward him.
“Ah!”
Startled, Olivia let out a short cry.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to be alone with you.”
There was a surge of desire to have her all to himself.
Edgar began running, still holding her hand—toward the Vichen riverside.
It was impulsive, like the fever of first love experienced by a teenage boy.
It was the kind of foolish thing he’d never done even back then—but tonight, under the dazzling starlight, it felt strangely romantic.
Wearing a black suit, with a bouquet of deep red roses in one hand, the man led her across the road by the wrist.
The quiet night street, bathed in the amber glow of the streetlights, echoed with the sound of their footsteps.
As red petals shook loose from the bouquet, they scattered in the river wind, leaving behind a dizzying fragrance.
Being pulled along by him, Olivia blankly stared at his broad back.
It’s because you keep doing this…
You’re making me confused.
Her heart raced.
Golden starlight fell upon his dark hair and strong shoulders.
Maybe from the very beginning.
From the moment she first met him on the tennis court at the Lancelot Hotel.
The moment she saw him swinging the racket, with that black hair that reminded her of her first love.
Maybe from then, she’d already started falling for him.
How are you doing?
Olivia lifted her head, gazing at the starry sky—perhaps connected to the world where he was now.
To the world she once lived in.
Her grandmother had died. The night after the funeral, when she’d curled up alone in an empty room—he came to her.
It had been a cloudy, chilly day, as if the skies might pour at any moment.
‘Did you eat anything?’
How could she not love the man who showed up the moment she believed she was alone in the world?
So she cried her heart out. The sorrow that had welled up to her throat finally burst in his embrace.
From that day on, he became a star in her dark heart.
…I’ll be okay too.
At last, she bid farewell to her long, one-sided love. It happened the moment Olivia pulled on Edgar’s arm.
He came to a sudden stop and turned around. Olivia had already risen on her toes, her arms wrapping around his neck.
Their lips met.
As she slowly took in the feel of his lips, she exhaled a trembling breath.
Dozens of roses fell to the ground with soft thuds. Edgar wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.
Eyes closed amid the blooming scent of roses, Olivia surrendered to the kiss.
His lips were soft like a summer night—gentle, fragrant, and burning hot.
Just a little more.
He was maddeningly good at making someone yearn.
Just a little longer.
Their breaths tangled in the heat between their parted lips.
The sounds of insects crying along the riverbank, the foghorn of a cruise boat drifting down the Vichen River, and the flowing water all sounded far away.
Edgar slowly pulled away.
Olivia, who hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed, opened them in a daze. Her knees wobbled.
Still holding onto his forearm, she steadied her breath. Her face flushed deeply.
Seeing the man’s lips shimmer under the moonlight, reality came crashing back.
I must be crazy.
I drank too much wine. I’m just high from winning the match.
Still.
This is insane.
Olivia, caught in the dreamy atmosphere and tipsy from alcohol, spiraled into confusion.
Blinking rapidly, she covered her face with both hands.
“…P-please let me go now.”
Her trembling voice was pitiful.
“Now, after all that?”
Edgar chuckled as he looked down at the woman trapped in his arms.
“I’m not done yet.”
Olivia, flustered, looked up with a face red as fire.
Seeing her squirm in his arms sparked unbearable thirst in him.
With flushed earlobes, she nervously parted her lips, already wet and trembling.
“…It was a mistake. I… yes, it was a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
Perhaps it was the unusually bright moonlight—his smile looked almost indecent.
Dangerous. What had she done?
Terrified, Olivia nodded vigorously, eyes darting away, hurriedly justifying herself.
Her neatly tied hair swayed with the motion.
“…Y-yes. A mistake. I must’ve had too much to drink. I usually don’t, but today was special, so…”
Edgar chuckled and pulled her slender waist closer.
Startled, Olivia pushed against his chest. That reaction was just too cute.
No—irresistibly lovely.
Edgar quietly looked down at the woman who reflected only him in her eyes.
A pawn to be used and discarded. That was all she was supposed to be.
But today… Today she had proved her worth perfectly.
So just for tonight—
Enjoying the moment wouldn’t be so bad.
“It is a special day, after all.”
With a soft laugh, Edgar leaned in again and kissed her.
His large hands cradled her small face.
This time, his kiss delved deeper. Startled, Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, her thin eyelids trembling.
“Edgar…”
His name escaped on a breathless sigh, scattering on his lips. Blissful.
‘Olivia is off-limits.’
Johan’s voice shattered over the moment, adding to the pleasure.
Swallowing a suppressed sigh, Edgar explored her lips again, murmuring her name over and over like a whisper.
Olivia…
Under the moonlight by the calm riverside, the night deepened—one they didn’t want to end.
Johan’s express train arrived at Remong Station.
Though it was evening, the city center—designed around the station—was brilliantly lit, befitting Rondo’s premier resort town.
The carriage waiting per his urgent message headed straight for Remong Port.
Dropping everything for this—what a goddamn mess.
Sitting across from him, Morris clicked his tongue as he side-eyed Johan, who had his eyes closed.
This was totally out of character.
A sudden trip to Britt?
Surely not because of the Kranz Princess.
Morris would bet his entire fortune that it wasn’t.
It’s regret. Just plain regret.
Morris was certain.
People are twisted like that.
When someone clings, they push them away. But once they leave, they suddenly want them back.
You should’ve appreciated her when she was around.
“Stop staring.”
“Ah, yes.”
Startled, Morris quickly shut his mouth and turned toward the opposite window.
Even so, he sneaked a glance at Johan’s reflection in the dark glass. Eyes still closed, arms folded.
What are you thinking?
Outside the quiet carriage, the city lights gradually gave way to the dark sea.
By the time Morris began nodding off, the carriage had arrived at Remong Port.
“Welcome, sir.”
Johan gave a curt nod to the staff member waiting to greet him and made his way toward Pier 2, where the Leopold was docked.
“There’s an urgent telegram from the palace.”
Johan stopped walking at the employee’s words.
“From the royal palace?”
“Yes, sir.”
He irritably brushed his forehead. The sea breeze clung heavily with moisture.
A bad feeling told him this was going to be a long day.
He wasn’t wrong.
Inside the VIP lounge, Johan read the telegram, and his brow furrowed.
His silver-gray eyes grew cold.
Reading a message from the King of Rondo with such a look—
“Damn it.”
The low curse chilled the air.
Must be out of his mind.
Morris, pale as a ghost, looked like a man caught conspiring treason.
He couldn’t help wondering what the telegram said and leaned in to peek.
“Urgent. Immediate audience requested.”
It was a message from the Queen herself.
Of all the damn timings.
Morris shook his head in disbelief.
Johan lit a cigar, cradled between his long fingers.
With a flick, the flame sparked. His elegant features sharpened instantly.
As he exhaled a thin plume of smoke, his gaze turned toward the night sea—where sky and water blurred into blackness.
Lights flickered from the docks, the lighthouse, and passing ships.
He checked the time on his wristwatch.
Before the hands even moved, her face filled his vision.
“Think of me.”
A long sigh, and a slow swirl of blue-gray smoke dissipated into the air.
He missed her.
Her, across that sea—unbelievably, playing tennis.
He couldn’t believe it unless he saw it with his own eyes.
That was all.
