“See you next time. Let’s do it together.”
Edgar whispered gently, kissed Olivia’s hand again, and turned away.
Taking a deep breath, Olivia stared at the man’s retreating back.
‘Come to think of it, it’s been six years already. The day I first participated in this competition and won.’
Princess Annblin’s voice cut into her heart.
‘That’s when we officially started dating. Ed and I.’
The fact that everyone in the world knew about it stung her heart all over again.
How must it have felt? To watch the woman he once loved suffer a miserable defeat. He was human, so wouldn’t his heart ache a little? It would be natural for him to be worried about the princess who had fainted and collapsed. She told herself that it was understandable and unavoidable, but still, she wished that only he—no one else, just him—would look at her.
“Shall we make a toast?”
At Elaine’s voice, Olivia winced, her nose tingling, and smiled again.
“Everyone, raise your glasses. It’s time for a toast.”
To change the somber mood, Elaine clinked her crystal glass with a spoon. A clear ringing sound echoed, and golden waves shimmered in the long-stemmed champagne glasses.
“To our queen, our friend, Olivia!”
Clink, clink. The transparent glasses bumped into each other. The hollow sound resonated in Olivia’s chest.
As Edgar, now changed into an outfit suitable for Olivia’s celebratory banquet, was about to leave his dressing room, his father’s secretary came to him.
“I’m a little busy.”
Edgar sat on the edge of his desk, his displeasure obvious. His posture was a clear sign that he had no intention of entertaining guests and wanted the secretary to state his business and leave.
“The Duke would like you to join him for dinner this evening—”
“Tell him I have a prior engagement.” He cut him off without hesitation.
“Chief Justice Carlos is here.”
“…”
Edgar, who had been straightening his posture and pulling at his cuffs with an apathetic expression, froze. His eyes narrowed.
“Chief Justice Carlos.”
His voice was so low and quiet that it was chilling.
Why would Chief Justice Carlos visit the Lancelot family? Edgar slowly turned his head to Gerald. A startled Gerald shook his head vigorously.
“It wasn’t me. I swear to God.”
This time, the Lancelot Duke’s secretary stared intently at Gerald. Although Gerald was an open spy, he hadn’t reported this crucial matter to the duke, which meant he was also in for a scolding. Gerald wished the sky would split in two and he could leap into it.
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Edgar calmly changed his mind.
As the secretary bowed respectfully and left, Gerald complained.
“It really wasn’t me.”
“Yes, it shouldn’t have been.”
Edgar’s eyes narrowed sharply as he curled the corners of his lips.
It was an era of great change. No matter how much the world had changed, taking a British princess to court was proving to be as complicated as expected. But it wasn’t entirely impossible, so he had been moving as quietly as possible. He didn’t care if it meant clashing with the royal family. The problem was his own father, the Duke of Lancelot.
How much of his surroundings were his father’s people? This matter was top secret. How did his father find out about the secret deal between him, Gerald, and Chief Justice Carlos? The shadows cast by the light deepened the lines around his eyes.
Until now, Edgar had never disobeyed his father. He had a desire to be recognized as a son, and after that became uninteresting, it was because the direction the Duke of Lancelot was pursuing was not much different from his own interests.
‘You’ve had enough fun; it’s time to settle down.’
Their relationship wasn’t warm, but they had never been at odds before. And now, their reason for conflict was over a lowly illegitimate child. The Duke of Lancelot must have been dumbfounded, but Edgar was also surprised by himself.
A pawn to be used and discarded. How ridiculous and arrogant that delusion had been. Edgar let out a wry laugh.
Before getting into the carriage waiting at the Lancelot Hotel’s main entrance, Edgar looked up to the suite where she would be. Light poured out, painting the large grid windows entirely yellow. It was as if her laughter was spilling out. Even though he had just seen her, he missed her.
And so, Edgar was often afraid. Afraid of being abandoned by her when she learned of all his schemes. That was an unbearable fear.
As night fell and the heat of the day subsided, a cool breeze, perfect for enjoying the night view, blew across the high-floor balcony.
Johann gazed at the Lancelot Hotel behind the Palais Hotel. The staff looked troubled as they cleared away the overflowing ashtray full of cigarette butts and ash. They also picked up the empty bottles scattered on the floor and placed a new bottle of brandy on the table. The hotel staff, who hadn’t expected a sudden visit like this without prior notice, were flustered. Especially because of this desolate scene. There was something fishy about it that made it hard to dismiss as a sudden inspection stemming from a whim.
“You may go.”
The duke’s profile, shrouded in deep darkness, was sharp. A gentle summer breeze scattered the cigarette smoke and the duke’s golden hair. The staff bowed their heads and retreated.
The moon, reflected in the liquor glass, was exceptionally bright that night. Johann tilted his glass. The shimmering amber brandy glittered like silver scales under the dim light.
Give what you must, take what you can. A simple and straightforward life. Marrying Olivia Blanchett was one of those things, nothing special. It remained that way until she spoke of divorce. Even when he left Greathill abruptly, the order of his life was peaceful.
When did the cracks in his perfect world begin to appear? Johann slowly went back in time. Was it the day he reunited with her in Litton, the moment he met her clear, transparent blue eyes in his suite?
‘You love me, Olivia.’
‘Not… anymore.’
As he recalled that day, her soft, low voice echoed in his ears.
‘So, that watch. Please return it.’
Johann looked down at his empty wrist. The watch, shattered like their broken relationship, was no longer where it should have been. Johann sank deeper into the back of his chair.
A deep sense of loss suddenly washed over him. He remembered the woman who had wrapped her arms around Edgar’s neck on the green lawn.
‘I love you. I like you so much.’
He clenched his fist. Crack. The glass shattered, and the brandy, now stained red, flowed between his fingers. He had forgotten he was holding a glass.
Just then, Maurice, who had been busy running around Litton handling things on Johann’s behalf, came in.
“Your Grace!”
Maurice was horrified. Blood dripped from the cuffs of his white shirt. The moonlight reflected off the broken edges of the glass on the marble table, making them shine sharply. He quickly called for a staff member.
The staff member who rushed over at the urgent call looked at the duke’s hand and bustled about, not knowing what to do.
“Get the first-aid kit and clean all this up!”
The person who had brought the liquor at Johann’s command started to clean up the messy table, glancing nervously at the furious Maurice. Maurice glared fiercely at the staff member.
“Leave it.” Johann’s heavy voice was cold and quiet. Maurice flinched slightly but decided to stick to his duty.
“I said no alcohol. You need to take your medicine. What’s wrong with you, really?”
Maurice quickly wrapped Johann’s left hand with a clean towel from the bathroom. That damn Dr. Biden. How great would it have been if he hadn’t discharged him in the first place? But how could anyone stop a two-legged creature’s free will? Especially if that creature was Johann Leopold.
“Go and get Dr. Gillian immediately.”
“Don’t overreact.” Johann said, tilting his head back. The sharp line of his jaw stood out in the moonlight. He had lost a considerable amount of weight in the past few weeks.
The staff member, who had been watching nervously, checked the now-clean table one more time and silently withdrew.
Maurice took the first-aid kit the staff member brought, disinfected the wound, and wrapped a temporary bandage around it. It was almost impossible to find a healthy spot on Johann’s body.
With his hand in Maurice’s care, Johann just stared blankly at the night streets of Golden Avenue. To be precise, he was staring at the Lancelot Hotel where Olivia was.
“Please tell me if it hurts.” Maurice said as he carefully wrapped the bandage.
Maybe it was the painkillers, or the strong alcohol, but he felt no sensation. Everything was quiet and muffled, as if he were sinking into deep water.
Why did he go to the lake in the first place? Disjointed thoughts popped in and out of his mind. Even if that damn thing, Diane Brook, had pushed her, she was the one who had walked to that place herself.
‘If anyone deserves to go to hell for this, it’s not me, it’s you, Duke.’
Diane Brook’s curse echoed in his ears.
“…Was I that terrible?” Johann muttered in a low voice, as if to himself.
He reached out his bandaged hand.
‘Today is my birthday. Can’t you stay?’
If he had been with her then, when she tugged at his sleeve and pleaded with him, would she not have gone to the lake?
‘I’m… asking you to love me.’
Or what if he had loved her then? What would have happened?
Love.
The staff member, who had been watching, picked up the bottle of brandy that had not been cleared away. Unable to bear it, Maurice snatched the bottle. Brandy splattered everywhere from the brown bottle’s opening. It stained Johann’s unbuttoned shirt and his black pants.
“Stop drinking! You’re going to die like this!” Maurice shouted.
But nothing reached his ears. He was sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. He remembered the image of Olivia in a pristine white tennis outfit, her smooth arms and legs exposed, sprinting across the green lawn in the pouring sunlight.
Olivia.
The shock of that moment hit him once more.
