197 - Chapter 197
Extracurricular 19
Wow, what an interesting guy.
Methone chuckled as he looked at Ansen Wilhelm's name plastered on the entry list.
Ansen entered Herollington International Port the day after the Princess consort arrived, as if he had been waiting for it. That alone was astonishing, but for some reason, he expressed his intention to meet Duchess Rosemond.
"Her Highness is going to lose it."
Noah had been seething with anger after seeing the writing that Ansen had produced.
Methone stroked the back of his neck and walked towards Noah's office.
Wouldn't Her Highness tell me to kill him this time? Then where and how would be the best place to kill him? Since there's an official entry record, killing him in Herot wouldn't be a good idea. It would be better to go back to Pulder and kill him there.
Just as he was outlining the assassination in his own way, he arrived in front of Noah's office and knocked politely.
"Your Highness. It's Methone."
"Come in."
Beyond the door he pushed open, it was quiet.
The Princess consort was sitting quietly on a long couch, and Noah was leaning back in an armchair opposite her, staring at his wife.
"Greetings, Your Highness. Her Highness."
Noah only nodded, and Olivia greeted him with her usual soft smile.
"Methone, I didn't even get a chance to properly greet you yesterday, even though I saw your face. How have you been?"
"I'm always doing well. You must have had a hard time on your trip. And why did you buy me a gift?"
"Then return it."
"Hey, you don't mean what you say."
Olivia cut off Noah's words with an affectionate rebuke.
"Methone was on a long business trip."
Methone looked at the pile of papers next to Olivia.
"You've been through a lot."
Wow. Our Prince, you've changed so much.
In the old days, he would have handled things secretly from Her Highness, but he showed it to her.
Then there's no reason to hide it on purpose.
"It's nothing. I was just doing what I had to do. As a matter of fact, I came to report something similar."
When he felt Noah turn to look at him, Methone looked him straight in the eye and said bluntly.
"Around 11:30 a.m. today, Ansen Wilhelm entered through Herollington International Port and expressed his intention to meet Her Highness."
Methone turned to Olivia and asked.
"What should we do?"
A strange light flashed in her black eyes, which showed no sign of wavering. Her red lips curved upwards in a beautiful arc.
She looked like someone who had expected this to happen.
"I wanted to meet him anyway."
A sweet and gentle tone and a bright smile. She looked the same as usual, but...
"That's good."
Methone thought she seemed to be taking a deep, blue breath.
The edge of a cliff.
The edge of a steep cliff with nowhere else to go. The whistling wind sounded like fragments of a mournful cry, and the endless darkness gaped like the Abyss.
He wrote at the edge of such a cliff.
Reflecting on his memories with Olivia, he wrote about his true feelings for her with a pure heart.
It was repentance, atonement, and confession.
The reason he tried to publish the book was not because of money. It was the only way for the writing containing his heart to reach Olivia.
But even small publishers rejected his writing. Who would be reluctant to have the book come out into the world?
Without even thinking about it, that unlucky face came to mind.
Noah Astrid.
That bastard who took everything from him finally took away his last bastion.
The day the last remaining mansion was auctioned off, his mother collapsed and lost consciousness. Three days later, when she opened her eyes, she didn't understand why she was in Pulder.
'Why isn't my dress coming? Hey, there's a party in the lily garden today.'
Ansen had his mother, who couldn't even recognize him, admitted to a mental hospital. He took the secret funds his mother had hidden and bought a stylish suit and a first-class ticket on a ship to Herot.
And so he arrived in Herot.
There was a hotel in Herot where he usually stayed. He went there as a matter of course and called the manager, who came out to greet him with a dubious look on his face. Ansen ordered him to take him to the suite he always stayed in.
Ansen entered the suite and opened the welcome champagne as if he had been waiting for it. Holding a long glass filled with light green champagne, he stood by the window and stared blankly at the panoramic view.
Herot Royal Palace, Hamel Cathedral located in a straight line from the main gate of the Royal Palace, the square with the golden lion statue and the golden gas lamps installed around it.
Ansen took a sip of champagne and said.
"Tell Duchess Rosemond that I want to meet her."
The manager couldn't believe his ears. But as a skilled hotelier, he politely asked back, even though he doubted his ears.
"Are you saying that I should tell Duchess Rosemond that you are requesting a meeting?"
"Yes."
"I understand. Is there anything else you need?"
"No."
"Please call me anytime if you need anything."
After confirming, the manager gave a polite bow and turned around. As he left the suite, the assistant manager, who had been waiting, quickly followed and whispered.
"He's completely ruined. The last remaining mansion was auctioned off because he couldn't repay the Kingsguard Bank loan, and Mrs. Wilhelm is in a mental ward."
"......"
"He definitely can't pay for the accommodation."
The manager, who had been walking briskly, stopped abruptly, and the assistant manager, who had taken another step due to inertia, turned to look at him. The manager, who had been standing with a frown, suddenly burst into silent laughter. He shook his head and approached the assistant manager. Then, after looking around, he whispered Ansen's request.
The assistant manager's eyes widened in shock. He covered his mouth with his hand after gaping open in a frivolous manner, and then sighed.
"Wow... really..."
"Be quiet. Go and do it yourself."
"Go and do it? I'm telling you, he doesn't seem like he can pay for the accommodation."
At the assistant manager's words, the manager clicked his tongue as if he still didn't understand.
"Whether Ansen Wilhelm has a good or bad relationship with the royal family, there has never been an unpleasant incident with our hotel. He always stayed at our hotel whenever he came to Herot, and he always stayed there if our hotel chain was in another area."
Only then did the assistant manager nod as if he understood.
"Ah... it's hard to kick him out right away. Loyalty and so on. Nobles think that's important."
"That's right. So I was wondering how to kick him out, how many days to wait before opening my mouth."
The manager glanced back at the suite behind him with a satisfied look.
"It seems like an angry lion will kick him out for us."
Would Noah Astrid, who already had bad feelings for the man, remain still after hearing such an absurd request?
"So shut up and go."
"Yes!"
The assistant manager smiled brightly as if to say not to worry and walked away, and the manager watched him walk away and strolled leisurely.
Thinking that he should reduce the accommodation fee for a day or two, considering their past relationship.
The reply came quickly.
Ansen chuckled at his consistent temper.
He would send a carriage, so come in it.
He wouldn't be able to see Olivia. No, he shouldn't meet Olivia.
He had come to meet Noah Astrid from the beginning. Nevertheless, the reason he mentioned Olivia was because that was the only way Noah Astrid would react and see him. The reason he conveyed his intention through the famous hotel manager was also in the same context.
The carriage arrived at the back door of the hotel at the appointed time.
The Prince's Hunting dog opened the door with a chilling smile. The inside of the carriage was dark. The four windows were covered with curtains that were fixed in place so they couldn't be opened.
"Am I going to the execution ground?"
Ansen asked with a chuckle, but the Hunting dog didn't answer.
The carriage continued to move towards its destination, stopping and starting repeatedly.
He would get the money. No matter how he thought about it, this was the only place where money would come out. It was taking the money from a vile bastard, so there was nothing to be ashamed of.
How much money did he spend strangling the necks of publishers?
Then I should have my share.
