The message was simple.
Olivia Blanchet is not allowed.
Johan closed his eyes. He hadn’t done anything yet, and still, his grandmother’s voice clung to him, already shackling his ankles.
A dull headache pulsed in his temples. Rubbing his eyes irritably, Johan muttered under his breath.
“…This is driving me mad.”
He was about to loosen his tie when the office doors suddenly burst open. Morris came rushing in, breathless.
“H-He’s appeared. His Highness, Prince Mikhail.”
Johan’s brows furrowed slightly as he lowered his hand.
“Where.”
“Well… um…”
Morris hesitated, his lips twitching awkwardly before blurting it out.
“The Doherty Club.”
Morris immediately froze.
“That damn bastard—”
Johan exploded.
In spring and summer, the rose garden café run by the Lancelot Hotel was the most popular place among noble ladies.
Especially on days without matches, the café was packed with ladies wishing to enjoy tea under the warm sunlight while admiring the exquisite landscaping.
Carol Hudson was one of them—but her purpose was different.
She glanced at her wristwatch. They should be here any moment now.
Waving her fan lazily to endure the drowsy summer afternoon, the corners of Carol’s lips curled slightly.
Just as she’d reached her limit with a Countess endlessly bragging about her dress, a perfect distraction arrived.
“Oh my, look over there!”
She deliberately called out loudly from behind her fan, drawing the attention of all the noblewomen.
It was her. Olivia Blanchet.
Walking along the Double Delight rose bushes with Elaine, Olivia wore a white tennis outfit, the sun reddening parts of her exposed skin.
“The princess is having such a hard time. I feel so sorry for her.”
Cecil, Princess Anblin’s secretary, was Carol’s cousin. Though she hadn’t asked directly, it was clear what Cecil wanted.
“Even in broad daylight, ghosts walk freely these days.”
Carol began, her voice tinged with excitement. Laughter erupted from the women around her, echoing through the garden.
The thousands of blooming roses were lush and fresh, but they couldn’t compare to Olivia Blanchet—now known not only as a shameless seductress but also as the ghost of the Leopold Hotel.
That alone was enough to make her a public enemy.
“She’s such a romantic ghost, isn’t she? Despite having the perfect lover now, she still can’t forget her ex-husband and haunts him at night…”
Carol sneered as Olivia and Elaine drew closer diagonally.
Fresh from practice, Olivia’s arms and legs were toned with healthy muscle. On top of that, the soft glow of someone newly in love lit up her entire face—she looked especially radiant today.
There was nothing ghostly about her. That only added to the bitter sense of inferiority.
“Would she really be that shameless?”
“There are witnesses, remember? Witnesses.”
Oh my!
The noblewomen gasped in unison, clucking their tongues and scolding the “immoral” woman.
The idle summer afternoon suddenly grew lively.
Even though it was an old rumor, gossip-hungry women treated it as new information and buzzed with excitement.
“They say she was seen coming out of the room in her undergarments at dawn.”
Carol whispered conspiratorially. Consumed by jealousy and envy, none of them hesitated to make things up.
“Disgraceful. As a fellow woman, I find her absolutely vile.”
“I heard that’s why Princess Kranz broke off the engagement. Truly shameless. And now she’s involved with the Marquis of Lancelot? Poor man. Of all women, her?”
The murmurs spread like waves from one table to another. It didn’t take long for Olivia and Elaine, walking toward the main building, to overhear.
“I swear, if I could just—”
Elaine fumed, coming to a sudden halt. Once a friend, Carol now fluttered her feathered fan with a smug, mocking smile.
“Don’t mind them.”
Olivia gently grabbed Elaine’s arm, her voice calm. Elaine turned sharply. Olivia remained composed.
“How can you stay so calm hearing that?”
Elaine’s voice rose with frustration.
“I’m not ignoring it.”
The public’s obsession with a divorced illegitimate woman soaring through the ranks with nothing but a racket was hotter than ever.
The press exaggerated both praise and slander. Among the women of Litten, everything Olivia wore became a trend.
Every place she’d visited with Edgar became a couple’s hotspot. Grand Bleu in particular was enjoying record profits.
And then, the ghost scandal exploded amidst the chaos.
One of the many burdens Olivia had to silently endure—though with the finals approaching, the timing of this attack was glaringly obvious.
Anblin Grace Britt’s provocation.
She could not be shaken.
“I’m just trying not to let it get to me.”
Olivia gave a faint smile.
“So let’s go.”
At her soft whisper, Elaine slowly released her clenched fist.
Though she still wanted to give them a piece of her mind, she turned away—after one last glare at Carol.
The jeering laughter and mocking tones carried across the garden on the breeze, even mingling with the soft violin music.
“His interest won’t last long. Surely he wouldn’t marry such a lowly woman. Maybe as a mistress. That’s what suits a divorced illegitimate like her.”
The noblewomen at the table burst into laughter.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Elaine!”
Elaine shook off Olivia’s hand and stormed through the tables.
“The Marquis is one thing—but do you think Duke Lancelot will stand by and let this happen? As if there aren’t other women! Climbing into her ex-husband’s bed like some bastard—AH!”
Carol shrieked.
Red liquid dripped from her head and down her shoulders.
Her carefully made-up face and elegant pale lemon dress were now smeared with red stains.
Blindsided, Carol blinked rapidly, droplets of tomato juice dripping from her eyebrows.
The surrounding noblewomen gaped in shock. Passersby even stopped to stare.
“You—you! What do you think you’re doing?!”
Carol’s face turned tomato-red with fury as she shouted.
Elaine calmly set the now-empty glass back on the table with a clink.
“Hanging around such low-class women… You’ve really gone downhill, Elaine. That was completely rude. Apologize at once.”
“Don’t let that open mouth run wild. You sound pathetic—just jealous.”
Elaine’s cold glare twisted Carol’s expression with rage and humiliation.
“And one more thing.”
Elaine leaned in, whispering in Carol’s ear for the final blow.
“Maybe keep a better eye on your own bed.”
Carol’s lips, clenched tight, trembled as juice trickled down her chin.
Elaine felt satisfied.
Even if Olivia scolded her, even if she sparked another round of rumors… the relief was worth it.
“I’ll pay for the dress.”
Olivia had approached quietly and addressed Carol with a calm gaze.
“Let’s go, Elaine.”
When they reached the entrance of the main building, away from the harsh stares, Elaine murmured:
“Sorry, Olivia.”
“Don’t be. Honestly, it felt pretty great.”
They met each other’s eyes—then burst into laughter.
As they walked through the rose-covered archway, the scent of blossoms filled the air.
She knew it had been the wrong thing to do.
But just for today, Olivia thought, it was okay to be the bad one.
She liked Elaine. The first person to stand by her side since her grandmother and her senior.
She had found a friend.
That comfort settled into her chest like warm summer sunshine.
“You’re spoiling them. This can’t continue.”
“Shall I bury them instead?”
Edgar’s bright smile made it hard to tell whether he was joking or serious.
Gerald was sure the 5,000 francs he’d given that despicable journalist wouldn’t be the end of it.
Next time, the price would only go up.
They couldn’t let this go easily.
But Edgar looked completely unconcerned, his eyes fixed on the scenery outside the carriage window.
“If Miss Blanchet finds out, it’ll be trouble. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
That smug, sneering face came to mind.
Usually, it was Edgar who held the leverage. Yet now, he had been caught by some third-rate gossip columnist.
Gerald clicked his tongue silently.
It was all because of her.
Olivia Blanchet.
The recent rash behavior. The absurd threats they were now facing.
Gerald, who had guessed the cause, was starting to get worried.
“As before, there’s no reason for concern.”
That had been his cautious reply to the Duke of Lancelot’s question about the scandal-ridden woman’s relationship with his son.
Back then, Olivia Blanchet had seemed like nothing more than a pawn.
Could it be… love?
Gerald hadn’t even considered the possibility.
Edgar had always treated even noble princesses lightly. This should’ve been no different.
Should’ve.
But that was just Gerald’s wish.
“Stop the carriage.”
Edgar suddenly ordered.
Gerald looked around in confusion.
“H-here? Why…?”
“No reason.”
Edgar smiled playfully.
Gerald grew anxious. The carriage had stopped right in front of Bichérne, the finest jeweler in the Britt Kingdom. Highly suspicious.
The carriage door opened, and Edgar stepped out.
Pedestrians who recognized him stopped in their tracks, casting curious glances as he headed into Bichérne.
With the corners of his mouth raised in a relaxed smile, Edgar walked confidently toward his destination.
“Give the gift of joy!”
To Bichérne—the dream of every bride in the Britt Kingdom.
