Russell Junior's voice was filled with confidence.
"Oh, my. I haven't even offered the lady a seat yet. How rude of me."
"No, I don't think this is a place for me to intrude. I just came to express my gratitude today."
"Alright, then. Come find me anytime you need help."
This was merely a formality. Like 'Let's grab a meal sometime,' it was one of those common phrases uttered without much meaning in human relationships.
But it seemed different for the woman.
"Really? Is it really okay for me to do that, Mr. Dixon?"
"……."
Her large eyes, with their fluttering, dense eyelashes, were innocent. The sun, at its zenith, shone within them.
Faced with such sublime eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say that what he'd just said was nonsense.
"Well, I'm not one to go back on my word……."
Russell Junior felt uneasy for some reason.
In the meantime, the staff brought the orders. A bottle of whiskey and a small, slender glass were placed in front of Russell Junior.
He filled the glass, avoiding the woman's gaze.
"I hesitate to ask such a favor……."
The woman trailed off.
He had a bad feeling.
What kind of enormous favor was she going to ask, that she was being so hesitant?
Even as he lifted the glass with a slightly nervous hand, he still feigned composure and said,
"Don't be shy, tell me, Miss Blanchett."
He gave the woman a generous smile and emptied the glass in one gulp. As he did, he subtly rolled his eyes and looked up at the woman.
"Please be my coach."
The whiskey, which had been burning its way down his esophagus, caught in his throat at that moment.
"Keuh……."
Co-coach?
At the bolt from the blue, Russell Junior spat out the whiskey.
Outside the windows of Greathill, the tender light green had turned to a deep verdant hue.
The temperature was slowly rising, already hinting at early summer, but Yohan Leopold, standing in front of the mirror, felt even cooler.
He was always a person who exuded such an aura, but today he was particularly frigid.
Yohan was preparing for the protocol of welcoming Princess Tanesia Irene Krantz, who was visiting Lyden.
"And."
At the low voice, Maurice's hand, which had been turning a page in his notebook, stopped.
"The actual owner of the townhouse where she currently resides is……."
When Maurice couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, Yohan, skillfully tucking the end of his tie into the loop, said,
"Edgar."
A monotonous voice flowed from between his sensual, reddish lips.
"That is correct."
A man receiving a report about his ex-wife before going to meet his fiancée. Expressing his condolences for the future Duchess Leopold, Maurice moved on to today's schedule.
"The Krantzval Express train is-."
"Did Olivia play tennis?"
Turning to his butler, Yohan asked, as if talking to himself, with his eyes slightly closed.
The butler, who had been holding the formal attire, approached as if he had been waiting for the question and carefully helped Yohan put on the black silk suit jacket with a red lining.
"Have you seen her?"
Yohan stared at the front window with his eyes narrowly opened.
The summer, which had arrived without notice, felt like an uninvited guest. It was because his divorced wife, who had left in early spring, was still bothering his mind.
"I'm not sure."
Maurice tilted his head. There was no tennis court at Greathill, so he couldn't have seen her.
"It is a bit strange, though."
Maurice's gaze slid to the newspaper spread out on the table.
「Britt's Solid Sanctuary, Olivia Blanchett, the Divorcee of Rondos, Breaks Through」
It was already surprising that the Duchess, who had been holed up in her room, was a skilled tennis player, but the photo prominently displayed was an even bigger problem.
Of all things, it had to be a wedding photo.
Maurice was worried that the Krantz Grand Duchess might see it. The Grand Duchess was scheduled to arrive at Lyden Central Station at 3 p.m.
If Yohan had wanted to, he could have recalled at least the newspapers distributed in the city before the princess arrived. But he didn't care.
"You."
"No, sir."
The butler, fastening the last emblem neatly on Yohan's chest, reported.
The butler, stepping back, examined and adjusted Yohan's attire.
The butler, giving a look that indicated everything was ready, handed over the ceremonial gloves. Yohan, glancing indifferently at the mirror, fastened the buttons on the gloves and ordered.
"Find out."
Yohan strode across the dressing room.
Olivia and tennis.
There couldn't be a more discordant combination.
The tennis she played with a woman named Elaine at the Lancelot Hotel had to be her first time. If it was Olivia Blanchett as he knew her, it had to be.
To compete in the Dumblein Tennis Championships with only a couple of months of practice.
That despicable bastard.
Yohan cursed under his breath.
Edgar and he were both the same kind of son of a bitch, but at least he wasn't despicable.
He wasn't the kind of unscrupulous person who would exploit a woman who was broken and had nowhere to turn in this way.
Otherwise, there was no reason to put a woman who had never properly held a racket in her life at the forefront to stir up sensational public opinion.
Yohan, who had been descending the central staircase, stopped and slowly turned around. The empty white wall came into view.
His gray eyes, gazing at the place where his and Olivia's portraits had hung, deepened.
It was none of his business who Edgar used to recoup the enormous investment he had poured into securing the Dumblein stadium contract.
It wasn't his concern, just as it hadn't been when he had brought in Princess Anne Boleyn of Britt.
But.
If the target was Olivia.
A subtle ripple stirred in his calm eyes, which betrayed no emotion.
The national flags decorating the station fluttered in the gentle breeze.
The platform and station square were crowded with people and reporters welcoming the Krantz Princess, who was officially visiting the Kingdom of Rondos.
Maurice was quite surprised by the even larger crowd of welcomers and reporters than when the Argent Princess had visited to become engaged to Crown Prince Christian.
It was probably the result of the commotion caused by Olivia Blanchett.
"There, there she comes."
The express train, with its turquoise exterior and gold trim, was slowly reducing its speed as it entered Lyden Central Station.
The gazes of the spectators who had gathered to see the princess all focused on one spot, and a murmur began to spread.
"Oh, I feel so bad for her. To be a second wife at such a young age."
Someone clicked their tongue, tut-tutting.
"What's so bad about it? Our Duke was the one who suffered because of that vixen. He's finally met his match. Instead of congratulating him, that's what you have to say? Anyone would think he was marrying an old man over sixty."
"Stop it, you two. They'll hear you."
The woman, glancing at Yohan standing on the red carpet, lowered her voice and said.
"There's an old saying that you don't have to worry about the high and mighty. They get married and divorced because it doesn't hurt either of them. Worry about yourselves."
They can hear you. They can hear everything.
Maurice watched Yohan's reaction.
There was no way to block his ears, so he couldn't help but hear what was being said.
Strangely enough, among the noise created by the crowd, the insulting words seemed to stick out and penetrate his ears.
Maurice looked at Yohan with respectful eyes. How many people could remain so peaceful even after hearing insults directed at themselves?
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, with no particular change in expression.
His piercing, arrogant eyes and calm face were fixed straight ahead.
Yohan lightly flicked his wrist and rolled up his cuffs with his fingertips. The silver wristwatch showed 4:10.
Bored, Yohan closed his eyes for a moment.
'……Did you say you were going to marry me?'
'Why? Are you disappointed that it's not the Crown Prince?'
You crazy bastard.
Yohan, recalling the day he first met Olivia, opened his eyes and cursed.
At the same time, the door of the special compartment, decorated with the Krantz Grand Ducal coat of arms, opened.
Beyond the window of the Carriage turning around the fountain in the center of the square, sparkling foam scattered in a variety of colors.
Yohan listlessly gazed at the cityscape from inside the swaying Carriage.
The princess, who had been wearing an elegant smile on the platform of Lyden Central Station, was also silent in the place where the crowd and reporters had disappeared.
Neither of them was behaving as if they were with their betrothed.
Yohan, who wanted to avoid unnecessary attrition, liked this silence.
The woman, wearing a glossy, dove-gray silk dress, exuded the dignity of a princess of a nation.
The purple sash across her chest, a badge of honor, emitted a golden glow in the sunlight streaming through the Carriage window.
Satisfaction from the sense of kinship that came from being royalty. A relationship where they knew each other's duties and knew how to fulfill their respective roles.
In that respect, the woman's status was perfect, and her attitude was skillful, so she was perfectly suited to be his wife.
Yohan, who had been resting his elbow on the window frame and pressing his temple with his long fingers, slightly lowered his arm.
Yohan, glancing at the watch on his wrist with its large knuckles, turned his gaze back out the window.
The Carriage had already left the luxury shopping district and hotel area and was now traveling over the Bridge of the Goddess, famous for its delicate carvings.
As the sun set, the pedestrian walkways on both sides of the bridge were crowded with people taking a stroll to see the Daphne River turning rosy.
Among them, the golden statue of the goddess, towering in the center of the bridge railing, was thronged with couples waiting their turn to kiss.
They were devotees of Arche, the goddess who bestowed eternal love.
'There's something I want to do.'
'Tell me.'
Yohan recalled Olivia at the age of nineteen, shyly fidgeting with their clasped hands. Yohan gave up resisting and slowly closed his eyes.
'……I want to kiss you.'
'…….'
His wife, in the Carriage passing over this bridge, lowered her blushing face and extended a slender finger.
'There.'
The moment he sighed at her, who was looking at him with an innocent expression, was around the time they were returning to Greathill after the wedding.
'It's all nonsense, Olivia. Say something else.'
How tiresome.
Yohan opened his eyes as if to push away the cloying recollection.
Yohan, feeling fatigued by the pathetic behavior, lightly rubbed his eyes with his gloved fingertips, and his gaze suddenly narrowed.
