As evening ripened, the deepening lights outside painted the transparent glass in brilliant colors.
Johann Leopold entered with slow, deliberate steps.
The golden trim of the Patex New Watch gleamed in a ring around his straight wristbone.
The two men stared at each other in silence.
It was Johann who broke the stillness first, closing the distance with long strides, and Edgar matched his pace.
As he brushed past the table, Edgar reached out and snatched the black box.
They stopped on either side of a glimmering tower made of stacked champagne glasses.
A tense silence filled the room again, not even footsteps echoing.
It was Edgar who spoke first.
“I hope you liked the gift.”
He casually plucked two glasses from the top of the tower.
Johann walked past him indifferently and sat on the sofa. Edgar settled across from him.
“So, what’s your purpose?”
The arrogant way he crossed his legs made the golden gleam on his wrist flash and vanish with every movement.
“That watch,” Edgar said.
Johann’s eyes, half-lidded, met Edgar’s and then slowly dropped to his own wrist.
“Olivia wants it.”
Edgar answered while pulling at the red ribbon tied around the box. The ribbon slid off easily, falling to the floor without resistance.
Johann’s brow twitched faintly. It wasn’t even amusing.
That Edgar had come all the way to Greathill—while Margaret Wellington was visiting—just for a watch?
“When did you become Olivia’s dog?”
To Johann’s loaded question, Edgar chuckled.
“Not yet. Not quite a dog.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, imagining himself yapping at Olivia’s heels like a Pomeranian.
“But who knows what might happen.”
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
“When did it start?”
Johann asked, loosely holding a cigar between his lips.
“Since the moment you threw her away?”
“Comforting.”
“We have similar taste.”
Edgar opened the box with a smirk. Johann scoffed as he saw the champagne inside, neatly nestled on black velvet.
The foil shimmered with the letters “Leopold” embossed on it.
“You tasteless bastard.”
Johann lit the end of the cigar with a flick of a match and hurled the insult as he lifted his head.
“Knew you’d love it.”
Edgar poured the champagne, eyes fixed on Johann, who carried himself with that noble, assured arrogance so typical of men from House Edinburgh.
Bubbles fizzed up in the clear glass as the golden liquid poured.
Edgar slid a glass toward Johann.
“Happy birthday, Johann.”
A cool early summer breeze drifted in from outside.
Under the trembling chandelier lights, Edgar’s gaze deepened.
The Patex on Johann’s wrist sparkled as he lifted his crystal glass.
“Have you ever been this kind to me before?”
Leaning back against the sofa, Johann asked flatly. His ash-gray eyes gleamed under the dim lighting.
“Depending on the situation.”
Edgar replied with an easy smile.
“Doing something this foolish because of her…”
As Edgar rambled, Olivia’s voice whispering of eternal love echoed in Johann’s mind, drawing a bitter sneer.
“Olivia is…”
His voice was heavy.
“No.”
The word wiped the smile clean off Edgar’s lips.
“Why not?”
Edgar tilted his head, eyes narrowing under the dazzling chandelier light.
“For the reason you’re thinking of.”
Johann said softly.
“So if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t care?”
“Even if that were true, the result would be the same.”
“And the reason?”
Edgar lifted his glass and asked.
“Because I hate you.”
So arrogant. So selfish.
Edgar burst out laughing, but the humor vanished from his face in an instant.
“Then try and stop me.”
Johann, staring into eyes that mirrored his own but with a hint of blue, once wondered if Edgar wasn’t just a distant cousin but a half-brother.
A bastard born of a bastard—Edgar Langster Lancelot.
Those who knew the truth were buried beneath the earth. He would live on as a Lancelot. But Olivia, the woman Johann had once lived with, being entangled with Edgar—that he could not allow.
That was the only reason.
“Do I look merciful to you?”
A chilling air surrounded Johann. Edgar didn’t avert his gaze.
Olivia Blanchet.
He’d intended to use her and toss her aside. But Johann’s provocation made it impossible not to respond.
“Once more—”
Edgar stood first.
“Happy birthday, brother.”
Leaving a lazy smile behind in the light, Edgar crossed the room.
He hadn’t gotten the watch back, but at least there had been no public scene. Not a bad outcome.
A cool breeze blew in where Edgar had been, bringing the scent of roses.
“My love is so deep, even your watch makes me jealous.”
He recalled the message written in the birthday card.
That was Olivia.
Like a fish washed ashore, flailing desperately for air—she used to act like she would die without love.
But she had changed.
Johann slowly tilted the champagne glass in his hand.
The chandelier’s light scattered across the surface and onto his wristwatch like starlight.
Anne had returned.
Peace returned to Olivia’s daily life.
“My love is so deep, even your watch makes me jealous.”
She read that, didn’t she…?
Just thinking about the embarrassing phrase made her cheeks flush, but she could endure it.
She hadn’t even written it, yet the secondhand shame was entirely hers.
Whenever the thought came up, Olivia shook her head, trying to forget.
Hopefully he won’t misunderstand and think I still have feelings for him.
That was something she absolutely couldn’t bear.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think…
“What are you thinking about?”
“…Huh?”
A gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Startled, Olivia looked at Edgar. His softly curved lips parted.
“What startled you so much?”
“Ah… um, it’s nothing.”
She resumed cutting her veal tenderloin, her hands having paused mid-meal.
As he slowly set down his wine glass, Edgar studied the woman across from him intently.
Was she still thinking about the gift he’d failed to retrieve?
More precisely, was she still thinking about Johann?
“We need to get your uniform tailored. Do you have a design in mind?”
He smoothly shifted the subject.
It was a quiet weekday afternoon at the Dumblin Club’s restaurant.
Olivia’s blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight flooding the terrace.
“I do have something in mind…”
The Dumblin Tennis Championship was just two weeks away. The weather was getting hot.
That day, Olivia had trained vigorously for three hours.
Her long skirt trailed down to her ankles, and her long-sleeved blouse restricted her movements, making her even more exhausted.
“Tell me.”
After a moment of silent deliberation, Olivia looked up, her gaze clear.
“…Would it be okay if it’s a bit…”
Edgar tilted forward, elbows resting on the table, intrigued by her hesitation.
Her lips, pressed tight, were adorable. It tested his patience—in a good way.
“A bit?”
“A bit… bold?”
The ocean beside them glittered silver under the sunlight. Edgar’s smile deepened.
Bold, huh.
That summer, the Dumblin Championship was about to heat up with Olivia Blanchet’s boldness.
And it promised to bring in massive profits. No reason to object.
“How bold are we talking?”
He nodded approvingly, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
It was summer. Like the sun that refused to set, the woman beamed brightly.
“Olivia is…”
The salt-tinged breeze stirred her neatly tied hair.
“No.”
Johann’s voice echoed in Edgar’s ears.
Really? Is that so? Edgar’s gaze softened as he looked at her.
If she found out about his connection with Johann…
Would she still smile at him like that? Probably not.
“November 11th.”
“Huh?”
Her strikingly blue eyes blinked beneath long lashes.
“That’s my birthday.”
Edgar smiled.
The next day, the designer Edgar had sent arrived at River House.
“…”
Olivia couldn’t hide her bewilderment.
“It’s been a while, Miss Blanchet.”
A woman wearing a peacock feather hat in blended greens and blues greeted her with a smile.
“How is this any different from last year’s? Am I the only one who doesn’t get it?”
Anblin stared blankly at the mirror and questioned the designer, Mitchem.
Such a stuffy design—it was sigh-worthy.
The changes from Madam Lauren’s previous tennis outfits were so minor, they bordered on lazy plagiarism.
“Since there’s a lot of arm movement, I emphasized elegance with frilled sleeves and lace detailing—”
“Honestly, I don’t like it.”
“Pardon?”
Mitchem’s face turned beet red at the blunt critique.
It was a gathering of the princess’s secretaries, maids, and friends.
Mitchem, from a fairly reputable noble family, had never been publicly humiliated like this.
She had graduated from the Royal Academy of Arts and even held solo exhibitions as a painter.
She’d only shifted to fashion design after others encouraged her to apply her artistic eye to beautiful clothing.
Anyone with eyes should be able to see how gorgeous this outfit was.
Mitchem blinked as she looked at the skirt hem fluttering like petals with the slightest movement.
“If you could tell me exactly what you don’t like, I’ll revise it—”
“You.”
The high-pitched voice suddenly dropped to a cold tone, and Anblin fixed her with a sharp glare.
Startled, Mitchem shrank back and swallowed hard.
Brother? Brother? BROTHER!?