The moment Olivia soared in the brilliant sunlight that had once been blinding, that unfamiliar yet powerful image completely erased all previous impressions of her.
Amidst the sound of the taut racket hitting the small ball with force, Johann could hear his own heart pounding. It was a chaotic rhythm, a little faster than usual and irregular.
The shock she gave him, like a bird taking flight the moment it breaks out of its hard shell, was replaced by a petty sense of betrayal with the appearance of Edgar. His throat and shoulders rose and fell with his ragged breaths. A flood of emotions that could not be clearly defined was overwhelming his life, which had once been devoid of feeling.
Everything was in turmoil.
The wind blew. He lifted his head. The wind, having passed by the Lancelot Hotel where Olivia was, brushed against Johann’s hot cheek. He couldn’t tell if the heat came from his wound or from the alcohol, but the summer night’s breeze couldn’t cool it down.
The night was deep, but Olivia couldn’t sleep. She waited for Edgar, hoping he would show up, even if it was late. But he didn’t come. She hadn’t expected much, but still, it felt like a corner of her heart was tightening uncomfortably. Giving up on sleep, Olivia got up. She put on the silk gown draped over the back of the sofa and tied it around her waist. As her fingertips brushed past the table, they softly touched the petals of a cornflower in a vase.
Olivia sat on a wrought-iron chair on the balcony, hugged her knees, and pulled them close. The sensation on the soles of her feet felt strangely cold, unlike a summer night.
Edgar.
Olivia lifted her head from her knees. Through the balcony’s railing, she could see the road below with occasional carriages passing by. The street, bathed in the dim light, was eerily silent. Every time she saw a carriage rush toward the hotel, breaking the stillness, Olivia would involuntarily feel a glimmer of hope. But each time, the carriage left only a fleeting afterimage before disappearing into the darkness.
It had been a long time since she had spent a night waiting for someone. When she was about six, she waited all night for her mother, who said she was going to the market, but she never came back. That same winter, her father, who had left her with her aunt’s family, said he’d be back in ten nights, but he never returned either. On a late autumn day when she was seventeen, her grandmother, who said she’d be back after a long day of kitchen work because of an important guest at the master’s house, also never returned.
Her waiting was never rewarded.
So don’t wait.
She whispered to herself.
Don’t wait, Gian.
She looked up at the sky. Looking at the night sky full of dazzling starlight, she wished. She hoped that the night they kissed on the banks of the Vichen River, where the starlight shattered, had been special for him too. She prayed that the summer night when the scent of blooming roses made her dizzy would also be etched in his heart.
So she decided to believe he would come back and that he would surely answer her waiting.
Olivia finally pulled her gaze away from the main road. Looking straight ahead, she saw the stately Leopold Hotel behind the palace-like hotel that resembled the Taj Mahal. She stared blankly at it for a while without moving, then got up from her seat.
Jose Carlos was a consummate opportunist. The secret to the second-generation immigrant’s success in Brit’s legal community, which valued lineage and tradition, was his ability to accurately assess the political climate and act quickly.
A week ago, Marquis Edgar Lancaster Lancelot had come to him. The marquis’s request was simple and clear: he was to find a way to bring Annblin Grace Brit to court. It was an audacious demand.
“So. You had a pleasant meeting with my son.”
The old fox, the Duke of Lancelot, stretched his wrinkled lips and asked Carlos. Feeling awkward, Carlos managed an unnatural smile.
“This could almost be considered treason, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s a bit much, Your Grace.” Carlos’s face, now devoid of its perfunctory smile, turned pale.
“Otherwise, how could one dare to bring Her Royal Highness the Princess to court? Isn’t that right?”
“…”
Carlos was indignant at the Duke’s excessive remark but didn’t respond hastily. The world was changing. In the continents across the sea, numerous monarchies had been overthrown, and the heads of royals had been hung. Of course, Carlos was neither a naive young man drunk on the romance of revolution nor a stuffy conservative who defended the monarchy. He was just an opportunist.
The amount Edgar had offered was so huge that it was enough to make him tear down the tower of his career with his own hands.
“You’ve crossed a line, Chief Justice Carlos.” The Duke of Lancelot’s lips twisted.
“I think you should be saying that to the Marquis of Lancelot, not me. What power does a mere public official like me have to plot such a rebellion?”
In other words, he was telling him to keep his son in line. Carlos smiled sardonically. After all, the marquis had made the request, and he had simply taken the money. If a problem arose, the Lancelot family would be the ones to shed more blood.
But wait. How did this top-secret matter come to light? According to the current laws of the Kingdom of Brit, a royal could only be brought to court with a majority vote from twelve high-ranking judges. To achieve this, Carlos had been secretly contacting and persuading anti-royalist judges. Could one of them have been a traitor?
A chill ran down his spine. Just as he was trying to figure out who had stabbed him in the back, the door to the drawing room opened. Speak of the devil. The cause of this whole mess, Edgar Lancaster Lancelot, entered with long strides. Edgar bowed to the duke and the chief justice in turn. Meeting his chilling gaze, Carlos’s mustache trembled slightly. Like father, like son.
“Sit down.”
“Then. I’ll take my leave now.” Carlos, sensing the tension, stood up. There was no reason for him to get involved in a family squabble.
After Carlos left, the duke looked at Edgar leisurely and said, “It’s good to see you so often.”
“If you say so, I have no reason to disagree.” Edgar’s reaction was as impassive as expected.
“Did that woman ask you to?” The duke filled his son’s glass himself, asking nonchalantly.
“It has nothing to do with her. I just have some private business to handle with the princess.” Edgar’s face was still expressionless. He only stared directly at the duke with a look of displeasure.
“I believe you said you would put things in order this morning.” The duke had seen through him from the very beginning. “It seems this is not a situation where I can afford to wait patiently.”
Edgar’s eyes held the same possessiveness as when he first saw Johann’s mother, Charlotte Wellington. The small, slender body, dark brown hair, vibrant blue eyes, cheeks with the fresh color of a ripe apple, and soft, rosy lips that smiled gently. On top of that, her outstanding tennis skills. The woman who had paralyzed Edgar’s reason was a major obstacle to Lancelot’s current and future glory and power.
To dare to confront the royal family was preposterous. He had no intention of letting the Lancelot heir ruin the family’s eternally brilliant history with one moment of recklessness.
“Where in this world does a man get everything he wants?” The duke, holding a crystal wine glass, downed its contents in one gulp.
“Lancelot and the girl.”
Clink. He slammed the glass down on the table and glared at Edgar.
“Choose.”
It was a direct command.
Edgar stared at the glass in front of him. His cool, grayish-blue eyes were calm. He ran his hand through his hair, then reached for the whiskey and drank it down in one go.
Lancelot and Olivia.
Edgar slowly repeated those names, and the corners of his lips subtly turned up. Then, his eyes, lost in darkness, stared at the invisible pistol pointed at him.
Annblin’s bloodless face twisted into a scowl. The royal family had issued a press release stating she was resting due to a mild case of heatstroke, but not many people believed it. Everyone was hushed, but despite that, rumors spread across all of Litton in a single day.
“Was player Blanchett’s injury the work of a reporter instigated by the princess? The truth must be revealed.”
Several witnesses came forward, testifying that there had been problems with the reporting process, and there were also claims that an unfamiliar reporter had been among the press corps.
“My goodness. I can’t believe it. But isn’t this too much?”
“I know, right? Was it necessary to go that far just to beat one illegitimate child? I’m disappointed in the princess for the first time.”
With the addition of something provocative, the simple story of an illegitimate child’s life-changing victory became a shocking conspiracy theory.
“How dare she…”
Her pale face gradually flushed, and a vein pulsed next to her temple. She crumpled the newspaper, which she could no longer bear to read, and threw it on the hospital room floor. Reporters and gossips who had a deep-seated resentment toward the royal family began to tear Annblin apart. The high honor she had built up collapsed like a sandcastle, and she found herself in a truly humiliating position, being compared to a low-born illegitimate child.
But there was something else that made her feel the most wretched.
Edgar Lancaster Lancelot.
The image of Edgar, kneeling before Olivia Blanchett without hesitation, suddenly came to mind. She had clearly seen his head bowing as if to kiss her, and his hand reaching into his inner jacket pocket.
‘He bought a blue diamond ring.’
At that moment, Cecil’s voice hit her ears.
Was he going to propose here? In front of me?
The area around her eyes swelled up. Annblin, who had been gasping for breath under the scorching sun, felt an intense pain, as if her heart was being ripped out, and her vision went white. And a moment later, as Edgar’s and the woman’s lips met and brushed against each other, she lost consciousness.
In that state of detachment from reality, Annblin etched the woman who had stolen the winner’s trophy and Edgar from her into her mind. She vowed she would never forgive her.
It was while she was reaffirming that vow that someone quietly knocked on the hospital room door, which she had commanded no one to enter.
