EID 24

24. The Heartless Man

The inside of the carriage fell silent once more as they simply stared at each other.

Transparent sunlight seeped into the quiet. Over her powdered white face, over the purpling bruise around her eyes, over her blood-encrusted lips.

Even in such a wretched state, the woman was beautiful. Edgar suddenly felt the urge to snatch off that ridiculous hat.

He loosened the tie choking his neck. Maybe it was the early summer heat, but a thirst had crept in.

“Mr. Lancelot.”

The woman, taking his prolonged silence as rejection, called out to him anxiously. Perhaps, if she’d sounded a little more desperate, it would’ve been more pleasant to hear.

“Edgar.”

Feigning composure, Edgar slowly pronounced his name.

“That’s enough. Edgar.”

Those bright red lips, unfitting for the moment, closed. The scenery outside the window began to shift.

The carriage, having left the tall buildings behind, now began to cut through a park. Then, her red lips parted carefully.

“…Edgar.”

The way she said his name pleased him.

“Speak.”

Edgar’s lips curled into a long smile.

“A wish.”

***

The commotion had begun, once again, with Olivia Blanchet.

With the sudden arrival of two of the hottest names in the Lytton social scene, the consulate staff were thrown into chaos.

Of course, the most shocked was the staffer who’d sent Olivia away empty-handed just three hours earlier.

Wait, no way…

Had he bet his entire fortune on the man refusing the woman’s plea, he would’ve been ruined. The pen cap he’d been chewing fell from his mouth with a soft clack.

A gentleman in a light gray suit approached with confident strides. As expected of the rival of Duke Johann Leopold, he was as handsome and noble as the rumors said.

The consulate staffer jumped to his feet the moment he saw Edgar Lancaster Lancelot, a man he’d only known from articles.

“Sorry to trouble you. I’ve brought the guarantor I mentioned.”

The woman said with a noticeably brighter face than that morning.

“Is the consul available?”

The man with the striking, icy-gray eyes spoke in that regal tone unique to highborn nobles.

“Th-this way, please.”

Though protocol dictated that he inform the consul first, the staffer now behaved like a mere servant to the Marquis Lancelot.

This can’t be real. He really came in person…

“In we go?”

The man offered his arm to the woman with a flawless, charming smile. It was not the behavior of someone discarding a woman he’d merely spent one night with.

With the staffer guiding them, Olivia and Edgar headed for the consul’s office.

Consul Rondos warmly welcomed Marquis Lancelot, treated him with great courtesy, and promised to see the entire process through with utmost care.

Power spoke loudest, and everything was resolved smoothly.

The next day, a photograph of Olivia riding Edgar’s carriage and the two entering the Rondos Consulate side by side made the front pages, throwing both the Britte and Rondos social circles into a frenzy.

***

The Britte Palace had many beautiful sights. Among them, the finest was the botanical garden in the West Palace where Princess Amblin resided.

Amblin enjoyed tea time in that exotic, plant-filled space. But today, her face was shadowed with deep worry.

She stared into her untouched teacup, eyes full of despair as she looked out over the butterfly-filled greenhouse of late spring. Remembering the times she’d invited Edgar to tea brought a sting to her chest.

How foolish I was.

Her vain and hasty decision in youth had left her wretched. Edgar was the man she’d thrown away in order to become a crown princess rather than a duchess.

“That woman must be serious. She’s openly parading around with Marquis Lancelot now.”

“After a scandal like that, how shameless.”

“They’re probably officially seeing each other at this point.”

The ladies’ chatter faded into the background. One photograph dominated Amblin’s vision, and her eyes began to burn.

The woman being called Edgar’s rose in the papers really wasn’t anything special—aside from having once been married to Edgar’s rival, Johann.

Could that really be the reason?

Did he do this just to provoke Johann?

No. I don’t know.

Amblin bit her lower lip.

She could never read Edgar’s heart. Even when they were together. He was a man as elusive as water, never to be grasped.

That made her anxious. That’s why she chose Prince Argent, who behaved like a sweet piece of candy in her mouth.

She’d hoped Edgar would cling to her—just a little—but he had let her go cleanly.

“What was the reason for their visit to the Rondos Consulate?”

Trying to shake off the gloom, Amblin asked.

Whether Edgar had silenced the press or not, even the articles were purely speculative, and no facts were confirmed. One irresponsible sentence noted that at least there were no marriage records filed with the consulate.

“This is from someone at International Bank, Your Highness…”

One lady leaned in and lowered her voice.

“That woman—her face was a mess.”

All the women’s eyes widened. Then, as if that made sense, they all clucked their tongues. A woman like her getting caught up in a love affair? Not surprising.

“Why would she show up at the International Bank looking like that?”

“Apparently her bank guarantee and ID were stolen.”

“Oh dear. She wouldn’t have carried such documents around… Unless someone broke into the Lancelot Hotel?”

The ladies gasped in disbelief.

“Well, no wonder her face looked like that. She probably tried to cover it with makeup, but there’s no hiding that swelling. Robbery or not, something terrible definitely happened to her.”

“At the top hotel in Britte? Unbelievable.”

“Otherwise, why would the two of them show up at the consulate together?”

“A lawyer could’ve gone in her place. Why bother going personally?”

Listening to her friends, Amblin murmured quietly. All eyes turned toward the princess. She forced a smile, unwilling to appear pitiful.

“Isn’t that right?”

Still, in her mind, she couldn’t understand Edgar. He was a man who despised unnecessary complications. This wasn’t something he’d normally do.

Even when they’d dated, Edgar preferred spending time in bed to doing anything mundane.

Not that she minded, but sometimes it did bother her. He found going to a concert, a gallery, or even a party utterly boring.

Amblin had started learning tennis because of him. It was one of the few things he enjoyed that she could join him in.

When she returned after her divorce, the Lancelot family was the sponsor of the Dumblyn Tennis Tournament.

She never missed the tournament and always won the trophy. Naturally so.

There may have been better players, but none with the nerve to defeat a princess. Every year, she donated the prize money to the royal pediatric ward and Britte’s orphanages.

The people adored her, and she was known as the Queen of the Tennis Court.

Now all she had to do was win back Edgar’s love.

Surely, after all this time, he could forgive her. Amblin felt Edgar was being too cruel.

“That woman isn’t ordinary. She’s special by birth. I bet she blackmailed the Marquis. Said she’d report the theft. Why else would he be involved with someone like her?”

“Horrible. Blackmail?”

“It makes sense. The Leopold Hotel’s opening next month—any security scandal would be disastrous.”

Ah, that’s it.

The ache in her chest began to ease.

She blackmailed Edgar.

The cloud over Amblin’s heart lifted, and the sun of hope began to shine again.

Of course. Tabloids couldn’t be trusted. Just unfounded rumors.

Suddenly, Edgar seemed pitiable, caught in the snare of such a wicked woman. She alone could rescue her former lover.

Amblin finally smiled.

***

“Your Highness.”

A secretary, who had approached unnoticed, pulled her from her thoughts.

“Madame Loren is here.”

“Madame Loren…”

“You were scheduled to discuss your outfit for the upcoming tennis tournament today.”

“Ah.”

The princess frowned slightly, recalling the appointment.

Anne Joubert.

The designer who had once contributed to the princess’s public embarrassment was now under judgment. The noblewomen held their breath, watching the proud princess.

A fountain in the garden sprayed upward, forming a rainbow in the sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling.

“Is there any promising young designer these days?”

Amblin turned to the watching faces with a gentle smile.

“It’s about time Madame Loren made way for the next generation. Don’t you agree?”

It was a dazzling smile, like a red blossom in full bloom in the center of a flowerbed. It also marked the end of the golden age of Yves Loren Boutique, which had flourished under royal favor.

***

In every industry, generational shifts come in many forms. But to be cast out like this, overnight—it was unimaginable.

“What did you say?”

Madame Loren’s eyes were burning.

“I asked you to return your palace access pass.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re no longer expected to visit.”

“I’ll speak to Her Highness.”

“You won’t have the chance. Don’t you get it? You’ve been blacklisted by the princess.”

Madame Loren let out a hollow laugh.

“I thought she was someone who kept work and emotion separate. I was wrong.”

“Madame Loren! Watch your tongue!”

As if the insult to the princess was directed at him, the secretary’s face grew proud and scolding.

“Do you think you’re where you are now because of your talent? Hardly. It’s all thanks to the Princess’s generosity.”

Madame Loren trembled with fury, as if drenched in ice water.