The Grand Ballroom of the Lancelot Hotel was in a stir.
Today was the day of the solo press conference for the Dumblyn Championship winner, Olivia Blanchet. What’s more.
‘Please say just one word about the ghost of the Leopold Hotel!’
‘The press conference will be held officially after the tournament. I hope you can wait until then, even if you are curious. May I go in now?’
It was also the day she herself had promised to reveal the truth about the ghost before the finals.
Under the dazzling light of the splendid crystal chandeliers, the air inside the conference hall was humid despite the approaching autumn weather, due to the heat of the packed reporters.
“I heard that Olivia Blanchet’s whereabouts are unknown, did you hear anything?”
“No. But since they’re trying to keep it quiet, it seems like something is going on. Well, we’ll find out if we wait and see.”
“Surely, she didn’t just disappear because she has nothing to say now, right?”
Michael Dosset, a reporter for a royal magazine, sneered, raising his lips mockingly.
“If she did, she would have canceled the conference, wouldn’t she?”
Among the reporters gathered here, no one was curious about the acceptance speech of Olivia, who had become the Queen of Tennis.
The reporters’ only interest was whether the Duke Leopold and Olivia Blanchet were together in room 3016 that night.
There was one hour left until the press conference.
It was a moment where everyone’s attention was focused on whether Olivia would appear.
Edgar, who had regained his proper gentlemanly appearance, was leaning against the window of the connecting room, which was linked to the press conference hall.
It was a place where the bustling Golden Avenue could be seen at a glance.
Every time a carriage stopped in front of the hotel entrance, Edgar’s eyes narrowed.
Olivia was not in sight yet.
He put a cigarette between his lips. His cheeks caved in deeply.
The lukewarm breeze blowing from the end of August scattered the cigarette smoke that was slowly flowing between his lips.
“Young Master. It’s time for you to make a decision.”
Gerard, who had been pacing the room, looking at his pocket watch, closed the lid with a snap and said.
“Let’s wait a little longer.”
Edgar, with a poker face, replied, his gaze still wandering the street beyond the window.
There were now 15 minutes left until the press conference. It was no longer a situation to be so relaxed.
Gerard was certain that his calm rationality had melted away due to a fever of love.
And so, another 15 minutes passed.
From behind the heavy door of the connecting room, the reporters’ complaints and shouting began to rain down.
Edgar just watched the carriages coming and going with an indifferent look and lit a new cigarette. The entire Lytton was a dazzling golden color as the sun began to set.
Edgar’s eyes became deeper and more serene.
Olivia was sitting on a chair by the sunny window.
The wind blowing in was muggy, as if the late summer heat was at its peak. The pale green barley grass crowded in the vase swayed in the breeze.
Olivia’s eyes, as she read the letter Johann had given her, were also swaying in a similar way.
The butler brought her the coffee she had requested. He carefully placed the teacup down and discreetly checked her complexion.
In the rich aroma of the dark coffee, her pale face, with her neat eyelashes casting a shadow, was calm.
It was so calm that it felt like the unsettling calm before a storm.
‘Stop him. If that’s not possible, buy as much time as you can.’
That was the command Johann had given her before he left for Lytton.
“Is the carriage not here yet?”
“I apologize, Miss.”
“Would it be faster to wait for the maintenance to be finished, or to call a private carriage?”
“…”
The flustered butler stammered for a moment, then came up with an appropriate answer.
“I will check and prepare the faster option. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Olivia thanked the butler who bowed politely and dismissed him.
The scent of coffee that lingered in the breeze hovered at the tip of her nose and then disappeared. She felt like she needed a hot, strong cup of coffee to clear her mind.
The letter Johann had given her was none other than a lawsuit.
[Plaintiff, Olivia Blanchet
Defendant, Anneblyn Grace Britt]
The betrayal and anger that had swirled like a typhoon, throwing her reason and emotions into chaos, gradually subsided the moment she saw that name.
Anneblyn Grace Britt.
Blue veins stood out clearly on the back of her hand that was holding the documents.
She must have been out of her mind. To have completely forgotten.
Olivia straightened her back and turned her head to look out the window.
The Winston Manor House, far removed from the city, was quiet, buried in the green surroundings. Olivia stared out the window for a while.
“Anne.”
Olivia called Anne quietly.
“Yes, Miss.”
Not yet.
“Let’s go back.”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s go back to Lytton, Anne.”
It wasn’t time to leave yet.
Olivia got up from her seat. A pain shot through her left foot and spread throughout her body.
The pain she had mistaken for the heartache of a breakup was, when she came to her senses, a gift from Anneblyn.
So this time, it was Olivia’s turn to return the favor.
“It seems she’s not coming. Let’s wrap things up here, shall we?”
Gerard was getting anxious. It was well past the scheduled time by over 40 minutes, and the conference hall was filled with angry shouting.
“How much longer do we have to wait?”
“There are rumors that Ms. Blanchet has disappeared, is that why she’s not showing up? If you’re not trying to deceive us, reveal the truth. The truth.”
Gerard was restless. The enraged reporters were like a herd of angry bisons, ready to charge and butt their horns against the door of the connecting room.
“Young Master!”
“Just wait.”
He was so calm, while the other person was burning with impatience.
He was buried deep in the sofa, enveloped in cigarette smoke. The crystal ashtray on the table was already piled high with cigarette butts with bent filters.
Edgar, in a dark navy shirt and gray suit, looked more put-together than when he was in the bedroom, but he radiated a sharper aura than ever.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of Edgar tapping the armrest of the sofa was out of sync with the ticking of the clock.
The two competing sounds felt like they were stretching the air taut, making Gerard feel breathless.
Edgar unconsciously loosened his tie and slowly swept his hair back.
From inside the conference hall, Russell Junior’s voice occasionally leaked in, as he explained the situation and answered some trivial questions from the press. He seemed to be trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working at all and only made the atmosphere more hostile.
How pathetic.
Edgar took a deep drag from his cigarette.
‘Let’s never see each other again.’
The smoke billowed hazily into the air, scattering the woman’s voice.
“So, when is Ms. Blanchet coming?”
“Is she even coming?”
Complaints erupted from all over the place. Edgar glared at the door connecting to the conference hall and flicked the cigarette ash.
“She hasn’t run away, has she?”
It was Michael Dosset, a reporter for the royal magazine The Sun.
“Please refrain from making speculative remarks. Otherwise, you will be forcibly removed.”
Michael Dosset sat in a slouching posture and sneered. Russell Junior’s face turned red and then green with anger at the insignificant provocation.
“If not, why isn’t she showing up? Speak up.”
Michael Dosset grinned. He had a triumphant attitude.
“Isn’t it because she was with the Duke at the Leopold Hotel that night? And isn’t that why the Duke and Princess Krantz broke off their engagement? Am I wrong?”
A long stream of smoke escaped Edgar’s lips like a sigh.
He should have crushed him back then.
His dark, grey-blue eyes deepened.
When the plan to bribe Grand Justiciar Carlos was exposed, everything he was doing to strike Anneblyn was put on hold. He should have gotten rid of him back then.
“We want the truth. Is Olivia Blanchet the ghost in the rumors?”
It was then, as Michael Dosset stood up and shouted at the top of his lungs, that the door to the grand ballroom, with its ornate carvings, opened wide. People all turned their heads at the sound of the door opening.
“…”
Time seemed to stop, and the conference hall became quiet.
It was Olivia Blanchet.
Pop, a flash went off, and the stopped time began to flow again.
“I told you to wait.”
In the connecting room, Edgar looked up at Gerard and slightly pulled up the corner of his lips.
Just that… A spring breeze instantly blew across his sharply tense face.
Olivia Blanchet.
The Grand Ballroom of the Lancelot Hotel, where the main character of the day had appeared, was filled with a burst of silver flashes and the sounds of people calling her name.
Olivia slowly walked toward the podium amidst the intense attention. She had a slight limp, but it was hidden by her graceful posture and wasn’t noticeable.
“I apologize for the wait.”
Olivia, standing on the podium, bowed respectfully to the reporters. At that moment, the reporters mercilessly clicked their flashes.
“Why are you late, Ms. Blanchet?”
Before Olivia could even sit down, Michael Dosset asked a question with a sarcastic attitude. The reporters’ eyes, a mix of displeasure and curiosity, were hostile.
“I was late because I had to go somewhere urgently.”
“Was that place more important than the press conference? Where on earth was it?”
Michael Dosset, who was now exasperated, growled as if taking an attacking stance.
