"Shameless creature, knowing nothing. How dare you insult my son?"
Count Blanchett roughly pulled away the hand he had swung, loosening his cravat as he fumed.
Olivia Blanchett clutched her swollen cheek and glared at the Count.
"Since when have you become so eloquent? Did you act like this in front of your husband? Is that why you were thrown out for talking back so clearly?"
Count Blanchett, who had been shouting, suddenly turned. He yelled at the servants standing behind him.
"Hit her."
The person the black cane pointed to was none other than Anne.
Anne was cowering on the floor, burying her head in her chest with her hands covering it, trembling. Shocked by the sight, Olivia glared at the Count and said,
"Don't do this to Anne."
"I heard you received a large alimony. Bring it here."
"Count!"
"Do you want your maid to die?"
Olivia glared at Count Blanchett. His overbearing gaze grew increasingly fierce.
"I'm okay. Please don't give it to him, Miss-. Ack!"
The Count's cane headed for Anne's head, and Anne, terrified, groaned and covered her head. Before it could reach Anne, Olivia quickly snatched the cane.
"I'll give you the money. Just don't touch her."
Swallowing her burning anger, Olivia's eyes welled up with tears.
Count Blanchett stared into those blue eyes.
Elena.
'I must have this child. I have to.'
Her skin was as white as porcelain, making it look even bluer. His beloved daughter, who would come running and embrace him, her thick, fine brown hair fluttering. That was why the betrayal and anger that swallowed him were even greater.
How I raised you.
'I'm sorry, Father. But it's his child. Please let me have it! Please!'
Sleeping with a friend's husband and plunging the family into the gutter!
As Olivia's eyes met his, Count Blanchett's time went back twenty years.
"Seize her."
His shrill voice cracked. The focus disappeared from his eyes, which had lost their reason.
Two burly men grabbed Olivia, restraining her so she couldn't move.
A hand, as dry as a winter tree, roughly grabbed Olivia's hair.
Anne, who had rushed over screaming, stood in front of Olivia, her body half-crouched.
Anne fell weakly to the ground from the Count's harsh punch. As always, the beating began with fierce curses.
Count Blanchett often confronted his once-beloved daughter, Elena, in this way.
Olivia. Olivia.
Even after the divorce, that name constantly lingered around Yohan, grating on his nerves.
Everywhere he went, that damn Olivia Blanchett.
Today's newspaper also featured her in a corner of the page, without fail.
If his ex-wife's scandalous affair had broken out in Rondo, he would have stopped it long ago. The aftermath of not being able to do so across the sea was extremely tiring.
"Now, could you please look here just once?"
The photographer directed Yohan's weary gaze towards the camera lens.
Yohan, wearing a black suit and a blue tie, relaxed his mouth and looked straight ahead. The neatly combed-back blond hair shone brightly in the sunlight streaming through the window.
"Yes. Good. Very good. I'll take it."
The photographer couldn't hide his excitement in front of the perfect subject. The photographer, who had disappeared into the black shroud, counted to three, and then, flash, the flash went off. His vision went dark.
'I love you, Yohan.'
At that moment, Yohan frowned at Olivia's voice ringing in his head.
Damn it.
The unpleasantness soared to an indescribable level when the photo taken with Edgar was added. Yohan closed his eyes for a moment. The reporter swallowed hard at the sight.
What doesn't he like?
Sweat formed in the hand gripping the pen.
A self-made man who has succeeded in every business with his outstanding animalistic senses. The noble Lantos lineage. And even handsome.
God is unfair.
That was the conclusion reached by reporter Harrison. He wanted to cast a vote for it being very unfair.
Soon, Yohan slowly opened his eyes. His royal gray eyes were slightly red, as if he hadn't slept well.
Yohan leaned back languidly.
"Let's begin."
Yohan announced the start of the interview in a low voice.
"Yes."
Ahem, reporter Harrison cleared his throat, which had become hoarse from waiting for Yohan, and shifted his gaze to the questionnaire.
"I heard that the Leopold Hotel, which will open in Litten this time, is the largest in the Kingdom of Brit. Is this also part of Lancelot Corporation's offensive management strategy?"
An indifferent gaze turned to the reporter. Harrison tensed up and focused on Yohan.
"I think it would be better to change the question."
Yohan commanded calmly, crossing his long legs.
It felt like he had hit a wall from the first question.
"Ah. ...Yes. Then, again..."
The reporter's head stuttered at the sudden request.
What didn't he like? Did the name Lancelot bother him? After a few self-answered questions, the reporter opened his mouth, watching Yohan's expression.
"Is the Litten Hotel project part of an innovative management strategy in line with global trends...?"
The reporter asked, placing clear emphasis on "global" and "innovation."
Yohan nodded briefly, indicating his agreement.
The reporter, who breathed a sigh of relief inwardly, moved on to the next question.
"Will you be attending the opening event in person?"
"Perhaps."
"I believe the Duchess Leopold is currently staying in Litten..."
The reporter trailed off, losing the thread of his words at Yohan's chilling gaze, but he did not lose his duty as a reporter. No, he struggled to not lose it, stammering.
"How did you see the affair article between Marquess Edgar Lancaster Lancelot and your ex-wife...?"
Frankly, the editor of the Daily Economy had no interest in whether Yohan's hotel opened or closed.
Considering the plummeting sales these days, selling sensational gossip along with the economic news was the only breakthrough.
"What's your name?"
Yohan, leaning against the armrest, asked the reporter, stroking his smooth chin.
His voice was low and slow. There was an overbearing pressure that didn't seem like he was simply asking because he was curious about the name.
So, my name is...
Reporter Harrison had the strange experience of suddenly not remembering his name. At the same time, he had a strong feeling that he shouldn't say it.
"...Harrison Carpenter."
"Why do you think I accepted this interview?"
Harrison's heart pounded. Somehow, the commute to work today was particularly beautiful. He had an ominous feeling that it might be his last commute home. Harrison moistened his dry lips and moved them.
"For the purpose of promoting the Leopold Hotel..."
"Then only ask questions that are appropriate for that."
Yohan, who had spoken coldly, raised his cuff and checked his wristwatch.
Only fifteen minutes had passed. It was terribly boring and annoying. The arrow of that annoyance flew sharply at Maurice, who was standing with his hands behind his back. Maurice quickly turned his head towards the window.
After the interview ended and the reporters left, Maurice approached and received the suit jacket that Yohan handed him.
"From now on. You do it."
A prickly gaze flew at him.
"What are you going to do with that sculpted face? Just bear with it a few more times. The opening is just around the corner. When you take pictures, think of the camera as a wad of money and smile a little."
Yohan pulled down his tie and left the reception room, heading for his office.
"We received a call from Litten."
Maurice reported, following behind him.
"The Count met with Miss Blanchett."
The steps that had been crossing the long corridor stopped abruptly, then began to stride again. Even though he knew what Maurice's report meant, there was no change in his expression.
Maurice placed a silver tray containing a telegram on the desk in front of Yohan, who was sitting at his office desk.
Yohan scanned the telegram he held between his two fingers.
At the end of the content, there was a sentence asking for approval to intervene with the person being monitored in case of an emergency. It was an implication that Olivia had been subjected to violence last night.
He finally went to see her.
Yohan picked up a cigar with the hand that had put down the letter.
Even so, what does it have to do with him now?
"Withdraw them."
"Excuse me?"
Yohan decided to withdraw the surveillance of his divorced wife. Because the articles about Olivia that were being spread everywhere were enough.
"But Count Blanchett-."
Surely, he wouldn't kill his own granddaughter.
Also, even if he did, it was none of Yohan's business.
"Why is that?"
Maurice stopped speaking at Yohan's cold voice.
That's right. They're strangers now. What right does he have?
Olivia Blanchett was no longer Yohan's responsibility.
The Litten branch of International Bank was quite large even within the Kingdom of Brit. Olivia visited the bank right after it opened, avoiding the crowded hours.
Olivia and Anne looked around, not knowing which of the dozens of desks lined up in the wide hall to go to.
Olivia, who was wearing a wide-brimmed bonnet pulled down low because she thought it would make her stand out more, walked to the nearest window.
"It's an honor to have you visit."
The customer who had rushed in without even giving them time for a cup of coffee was not welcome. How diligent. The window clerk raised her head and stared at Olivia's face, asking formally.
"How can I help you?"
Today's first customer looked shabby.
It looked like a maid from some house had been caught in a fight after being kicked out by her mistress. Her face was covered in bruises and scars.
Although she had covered it with thick makeup, the unusual makeup style drew even more attention.
No matter how you looked at it, she didn't look like a first-tier financial customer who only used by nobles.
They demanded that even their agents be neatly dressed. So, this woman must not be running errands for a noble.
Olivia, feeling self-conscious at the employee's gaze as if she was observing her, lowered her head and said,
"I would like to apply for a payment stop on my account."
