As evening ripened, the deepened lights outside the window lavishly painted the clear glass.
Johann Leopold entered with a slow gait.
On his straight wrist bone, the gold frame of the Patek 'New Watch' sparkled like a ring.
The two quietly stared at each other.
In the silence, it was Yohan who moved first. Edgar narrowed the distance, matching Yohan's striding pace.
Edgar, passing by the table, reached out and snatched the black box.
The two stopped, standing between a glittering tower made of Champagne glasses.
In the space where even footsteps had ceased, a precarious silence flowed once more.
It was Edgar who broke the stillness of the air.
"I hope you like the gift."
Edgar quipped, taking two glasses from the very top.
Yohan nonchalantly passed him and sat on the sofa. Edgar took a seat opposite him.
"Yes. What's the matter?"
Following his arrogant posture, sitting with his legs crossed, the golden shimmer appeared and disappeared on his wrist.
"That watch."
Yohan, facing Edgar with narrowly opened eyes, followed Edgar's gaze down to his own wrist.
"Olivia wants it."
Edgar replied, pulling the red ribbon around the box. The string loosened without resistance and fell to the floor.
Yohan's brow furrowed slightly. It wasn't even funny.
The reason he came to Greathill, especially when Margaret Wellington had dared to visit, was because of a watch.
"Since when did you become Olivia's dog?"
Edgar chuckled at Yohan's meaningful question.
"Not yet. Not quite a dog."
Imagining Poppy wagging at Olivia's feet made him burst out laughing.
"You never know what might happen in the future."
It might not be so bad.
"Since when was it?"
Yohan asked, taking out a cigar and loosely placing it in his mouth.
"Perhaps from the moment you abandoned her?"
"That's comforting."
"We have similar tastes."
Edgar smirked, opening the gift box. Yohan chuckled when he saw the Champagne neatly arranged on the black velvet.
The spelling 'Leopold' written on the silver foil gleamed in the light.
"You lazy bastard."
With a snap, Yohan struck a match and lit the end of his cigar, then looked up and cursed.
"I knew you'd like it."
Edgar poured the Champagne, staring straight at Yohan, who exuded the noble self-assurance of the men of Edinburgh.
The yellow liquid shimmered in the clear glass, and bubbles rose.
Edgar pushed the glass towards Yohan.
"Happy birthday, Yohan."
A cool early summer night breeze blew in from outside the window.
Under the swaying chandelier light, Edgar's eyes deepened.
The Patek shone on Yohan's wrist as he lifted the crystal glass.
"Have you ever been this kind to me?"
Yohan placed the glass down and leaned back against the backrest, asking casually. His gray eyes were aloof under the dim lighting.
"Depending on the situation."
Edgar gave a relaxed smile.
"To do such foolish things because of her..."
A sneer escaped as Olivia's voice, which had spoken of eternal love, flashed through his mind along with Edgar's nonsense.
"Olivia."
It was a heavy voice.
"No way."
Yohan's gaze erased the smile hanging on the corner of Edgar's lips.
"Why?"
Under the dazzling light scattered by the crystal, Edgar narrowed his eyes and asked languidly, tilting his head.
"For the reason you're thinking of."
Yohan said quietly.
"It sounds like it wouldn't matter if it weren't for that reason."
"Of course, the result would be the same even if it were."
"What's the reason?"
Edgar asked, raising his glass.
"Because I hate you."
It was a truly arrogant and selfish attitude.
Edgar couldn't help but burst out laughing. Then, in an instant, the laughter disappeared, and his face turned cold.
"Then try to stop me."
Staring into his gray eyes, which resembled his own but had a subtly mixed blue tint, Yohan once suspected that he was not an unofficial second cousin, but a half-brother.
A bastard's bastard. Edgar Lancaster Lancelot.
Those who knew the truth were already buried underground, so he would continue to live as a Lancelot, but Yohan could not tolerate Olivia, who had lived with him, becoming involved with Edgar.
That was all.
"Do I look generous?"
Yohan felt a chilling aura. Edgar did not avoid his gaze.
Olivia Blanchett.
She was a piece to be used and discarded, but since her ex-husband was provoking him so much.
He had no choice but to meet his expectations.
"Once more."
Edgar got up from his seat first.
"Happy birthday. Brother."
Leaving a languid smile in the light, Edgar crossed the reception room.
He hadn't been able to retrieve the watch, but he had avoided the misfortune of it being revealed in front of everyone, so it wasn't a bad result.
In the place where Edgar had disappeared, a cool breeze brought the scent of roses.
'My love makes even your watch jealous.'
The phrase written on the birthday card came to mind.
Olivia was that kind of woman.
Like a fish washed ashore, thrashing as if it were about to suffocate. A woman who struggled as if she would die without his love.
That woman had changed.
Yohan slowly tilted the Champagne glass in his hand.
Following the undulation, the chandelier light shattered on the surface. It landed like starlight on the wristwatch as well.
***
Anne returned.
Once again, Olivia's daily life became peaceful.
'My love makes even your watch jealous.'
To have read that...
The embarrassing phrase popped up again and again, making her cheeks flush, but she could bear it.
It wasn't even something she had written, but the embarrassment was entirely hers.
Whenever that happened, Olivia shook her head and tried to forget it.
Surely he wouldn't misunderstand that she still had feelings for him.
She couldn't bear that.
Let's not think about it anymore. Let's not think about it. Let's not think...
"What are you thinking about?"
"...Yes?"
The affectionate voice awakened Olivia, who had been lost in thought.
Startled, she looked at Edgar. Softly curved lips opened.
"Why are you so surprised?"
"Ah... I mean. It's nothing."
The hands that had stopped cutting the veal tenderloin steak began to move again.
Slowly putting down his wine glass, Edgar looked deeply at the woman sitting across from him.
He wondered if she was still worried about the birthday present he hadn't been able to retrieve.
More precisely, was she thinking about Yohan?
"We need to get the match uniforms made. Do you have any designs in mind?"
Edgar changed the subject.
It was a quiet weekday afternoon at the Dumblein Club's restaurant.
The blue eyes, catching the sunlight streaming onto the deck, began to sparkle.
"I do have a design I want."
The Dumblein Tennis Tournament was now only two weeks away. The weather was gradually getting hotter.
Olivia had moved vigorously for three hours today as well.
The long skirt that came down to her ankles wrapped around her ankles, and the long-sleeved blouse that came up to her wrists was uncomfortable to move in, making her even more tired.
"Tell me."
Olivia continued to ponder in silence before raising her clear eyes.
"...A little."
What was she going to say that she was hesitating so much?
Since her tightly closed lips were cute, Edgar's patience also grew longer. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned his upper body forward slightly, asking.
"A little?"
"Can it be unconventional?"
The surface of the deep blue sea spread out to the side, reflecting the sunlight and sparkling in silver. Edgar's smile deepened.
Unconventional.
This summer, the Dumblein Tennis Tournament was expected to be heated up by Olivia Blanchett's unconventionality.
Leaving behind huge profits. There was no reason to refuse.
"How unconventional are you planning to be?"
He nodded readily. A smile hung at the end of the playful question.
It was summer. Like a sun that would never go out, the woman smiled brightly.
'Olivia.'
The woman's neat hair fluttered in the salty breeze.
'No way.'
Yohan's voice echoed in his ears.
Could it really be no way? Edgar's gaze at the woman became calm.
If she found out about his relationship with Yohan.
If that happened, she probably wouldn't smile so beautifully at his heartfelt smile as she did now.
"November 11th."
"Yes?"
Unusually blue eyes blinked long eyelashes.
"It's my birthday."
Edgar smiled.
And the next day, the designer Edgar sent visited River House.
"..."
Olivia couldn't hide her embarrassment.
"It's been a while. Ms. Blanchett."
The woman wearing a peacock feather hat with a mysterious mix of green and blue smiled and greeted her.
***
"What's different about this from last year? Am I the only one who doesn't know?"
Anne Boleyn, staring blankly at the mirror, asked the designer Mitchum.
Such a stale design. A sigh escaped on its own.
The level of timidly changing only the material and details from the tennis wear designed by Madam Lauren so far was pathetic to the point of being shameless.
"As there are many arm movements, the hem of the sleeves is emphasized with frills, as you can see, to gracefully emphasize the movements, and lace is used-."
"I honestly don't like it."
"Yes?"
Mitchum's face turned bright red at the direct criticism.
It was a gathering of the princess's secretary, maids, and friends.
Mitchum, who came from a relatively prestigious aristocratic family, was experiencing such public humiliation for the first time.
She was an artist who had graduated from the Royal Academy of Arts and held solo exhibitions.
She had switched to being a designer because people around her had suggested that she try making beautiful clothes with her aesthetic vision.
Moreover, anyone with eyes would know. How beautiful this dress is.
Mitchum blinked, looking at the skirt hem that fluttered like flower petals even with the slightest movement.
"If you could tell me what you don't like about it, I'll revise it-."
"You."
The high-pitched voice dropped sharply, and oppressive eyes stared directly at Mitchum.
Startled, Mitchum shrank her shoulders and swallowed hard.
