Since the Rose Ball, Olivia Blanchett had been at the center of rumors.
Of course, in the beginning, most of the articles were negative.
However, with the Dumblin Club as a stepping stone, the stories about Olivia turned favorable.
But lately, her reputation, which had been quiet, was once again being splashed with mud.
"...Really. They're going too far."
Articles denouncing Olivia Blanchett were pouring out daily. Moreover, the intentionally written articles were quite provocative.
A shameless vixen hooking up with Marquis Lancelot, her ex-husband's business rival.
A bastard who stole the princess's necklace, lover, and even designer. Is the throne of the tennis queen next?
At this point, even people who had little interest in tennis began to show an abnormal enthusiasm for the tournament.
Our princess, praised as the queen of tennis, must never lose to such a brazen bastard.
Everyone was united in supporting the princess.
"Don't worry about it, Anne."
Olivia, standing in front of the mirror, narrowed her eyes. The sunlight streaming in through the window was blinding.
Anne was upset. The sight of her mistress trying so hard not to show it was even more heartbreaking.
Fastening the buttons on Olivia's new tennis dress, Anne asked cautiously.
"Shouldn't we release a rebuttal article?"
Marquis Lancelot could do it. Anne was frustrated as to why she didn't use his power.
He seemed to exist to save her mistress. That fact became clearer with every crisis.
Guaranteeing the identity of her mistress, who was practically a stranger, readily taking Anne on the ship, and personally invading Greathill all meant one thing.
The Marquess likes her mistress.
That was Anne's conclusion.
She had resented him when the scandal first broke, but that was only the fault of the unscrupulous reporter, not the Marquess.
"I'll show them with my skills."
Olivia laughed it off lightly.
'She won the right to participate with her body.'
She knew that unspeakable rumors were circulating about her.
If she reacted to each one, she wouldn't be able to keep her sanity.
After all, the world sees what they want to see. She just had to show them.
Do your best.
That was all that mattered.
Olivia, having changed, came out of the dressing room and walked down the hallway.
As she crossed the Hall of Fame, passing the elegantly curved staircase, she felt the gazes of the people passing by.
Was it because of the articles with all sorts of vulgar expressions, or was it because of Olivia's outfit?
Anne thought it was the latter. To add another reason, it was also because of her perfectly beautiful mistress.
She passed through the corridor and descended the wide staircase leading to the tennis court.
The sound of balls being hit here and there disappeared, and a silence fell all at once.
Olivia walked towards court number 12 without paying attention.
"..."
Russell Junior, who had arrived earlier and was warming up, widened his eyes. Then he blinked his eyes.
"Ahem."
He didn't know where to look, but he kept looking. Russell was at a loss.
"So... this outfit..."
Russell Junior started talking while looking at the vast sea, but he couldn't finish. Olivia's white limbs flickered on the surface of the water.
"Yes. I wore it to see how it feels. How is it?"
Russell Junior was speechless at her usual kind smile.
How is it?
"Well..."
His mind, which had turned completely white, was in shock itself.
"...Ah, beau- no, it looks cool, which is good."
Her chestnut hair was swept back with a white headband, revealing her petite ears.
The dress was all white to meet the tournament regulations, and the front of the torso had a row of covered buttons wrapped in lace down to the waistline.
The problem was that it was too short.
Because of the sleeveless design and the skirt length that revealed her knees, Olivia's slender arms and legs stood out. It was an outfit that would make the men go crazy and the stuffy noble ladies faint.
"Shall we start? Coach?"
Russell, who had been staring blankly, belatedly went to his position. Olivia was already on the court, swinging her racket and warming up.
Following her movements, the hem of her skirt twirled above her knees.
Russell Junior sighed and served. Would he even be able to run properly with all this on his mind?
But that was Russell Junior's misjudgment. He was the only one who was bothered.
Huff, huff. A moment later, Russell Junior's rough breathing echoed across the club grounds.
To clear the balls that were coming back faster than before, he had to run around like his feet were on fire without a moment to catch his breath.
As the clothes became lighter, Olivia's movements became quicker and more agile.
The onlookers who had gathered were shaking their heads.
As it had been every year, betting began.
Whether the princess and Olivia would face off, and if so, who would win the trophy.
The women's singles match, which had been an unpopular event, had become the biggest concern in Litten.
"A vote for Olivia Blanchett."
"Me too. Of course."
The Dumblin Club members, who had been ranting in the newspapers, would bet on Olivia.
They were the only ones who knew her skills.
A happy smile was already on their faces as they thought about raking in a huge amount of money in return for accepting her.
Olivia emptied a glass of water.
Soon after, the food she had ordered was set on the table, and Olivia focused on her meal. Until someone sat at the empty table.
"Duke Leopold is coming, I hear?"
The hand that had been diligently moving the cutlery stopped abruptly.
"That's what I heard. He's coming with his fiancée..."
The man, who glanced at Olivia as if conscious of her, trailed off and called an employee to order.
Olivia's lips, which had been moving like a squirrel with her cheeks puffed out, stopped moving.
Olivia's face, bathed in the slanting rays of transparent sunlight, was pale. It wasn't just because a piece of soft fish was stuck in her throat.
"Didn't you know?"
Russell Junior pushed the glass towards her as she groped for the water glass and reached out her hand.
After swallowing the food, Olivia nodded slightly.
Olivia had put in so much effort that blisters had formed on the palms of her hands holding the racket and on her toes running around the court.
Her shoulders and wrists, which had been overworked for hours, ached in every joint, and when she came home, her whole body was exhausted.
She deliberately avoided the malicious articles because she didn't want to be hurt in that state.
Somehow, her appetite disappeared.
"...I should get up first. ...I'm sorry, Coach."
Olivia took a napkin, wiped her lips, and politely asked for her understanding. She couldn't continue eating in this state.
Good heavens!
Her ex-husband was coming across the ocean from afar.
Johann Edinburgh Leopold.
Olivia, who had fled Rondos as if running away and was convinced that she would never meet him again, was very confused by this situation.
"It's time to prepare to disembark."
Johann nodded briefly instead of answering and stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking in the ashtray.
A hazy smoke scattered into the air, mixed with a long sigh.
As he dressed, the sunlight ripened into a yellow hue.
His gaze, dressed in a jet-black suit, turned behind the attendant who was adjusting his blue tie.
Beyond the round window, the land was faintly visible.
The country Olivia had chosen, Britte, came into view.
'If anyone has to fall into hell because of this, it's not me, it's you. Duke, yourself.'
Diane Brooke's nonsense came to mind, and he unconsciously reached for the knot of his tie.
"Is there anything wrong?"
Johann, who had paused for a moment, shook his head.
"No."
His face, which he spat out briefly, was sharp.
Hell.
Johann's gaze, putting on the gloves that the attendant handed him and slowly buttoning them, rested on his wrist.
'Do you know that, Johann?'
His wife's voice was heard. He couldn't remember exactly when. It was an ordinary daily occurrence.
'While I was only looking at you, you looked at your watch nine times. ...Do you know that?'
Olivia.
Johann's eyes, which did not show any expression, contained the glittering gold second hand.
"Everything is ready, Your Excellency."
Johann, shaking off his thoughts and checking the time with his thinly opened eyes, nodded consciously.
The attendant, who had bowed politely, stepped back.
Litten Harbor was getting closer and closer.
Johann found a cigarette and put it in his mouth.
The smoke, deeply inhaled and exhaled, spread out like the fog on the shores of Greathill.
Olivia's heart was beating ominously.
A woman who slowly withers away from love for her husband and eventually becomes engulfed in madness and meets a miserable end was vivid before her eyes.
She wore a yellow execution hood, and a thick rope was around her neck.
With a thud, the platform opened, and Olivia Blanchett's body danced in the air.
No!
Olivia shook her head violently. She urgently erased the sentences floating in her consciousness.
That won't happen.
"Are you okay?"
Russell Junior, who was seeing Olivia off to the carriage waiting area, asked, looking at her complexion.
The relationship between divorced couples couldn't be good, but how bad was it? He felt sorry for the woman, who seemed frightened ever since she heard about the Duke's visit.
Well, Johann Leopold, with his freezing, overbearing atmosphere and aloof attitude, was a difficult person to endure even for the same man. How much more so for a fragile woman?
"I'm okay, Coach."
Olivia gave a faint smile.
It'll be okay.
Nothing will happen.
Olivia calmed her troubled mind and composed her expression.
It's because of the hotel opening, he'll go back as soon as the event is over.
Their paths don't overlap, so they won't run into each other.
She, who only goes back and forth between home and the Dumblin Club these days, had no reason to go near Golden Avenue, and she had no intention of going.
Olivia decided to end her negative thoughts there.
"Can you go alone?"
