Olivia opened her eyes from a light sleep and felt her heart stop.
Pale blue light tinted gray eyes were right in front of her. The man's palm cupping her cheek was large and firm. She was instantly wide awake.
He must be crazy.
No matter how tired she was, no matter how sleepy she was.
She hurriedly tried to pull her face away, which must have been bright red, but the gentle touch turned firm.
"!"
Olivia, unable to shake off the large hand, slowly raised her gaze.
He was looking at her with a look she had never seen before. It was a look that made her want to run away in fear, yet also made her want to reach out and touch him. It was a strange feeling.
At that moment, Edgar's sharp eyes curved. Her heart began to race like crazy.
Because the man was so close that their noses almost touched, because the man was lowering his head as if to kiss her lips, Olivia reflexively reached out her arm.
He grabbed her wrist. The place where he grabbed her felt as hot as if it had been burned.
"Here."
The man's lips were almost touching her earlobe.
"There's something on you."
His clear breath touched her. A jolt ran through her head and down to her toes, and Olivia instinctively pushed Edgar's chest away.
"I, I'll do it... I'll do it."
Olivia barely managed to speak, covering her face with both hands as if to hide it.
"Not there. Here."
He was amused by the flustered woman and felt playful.
Edgar smiled and pointed to his left cheek with a long finger. Olivia, understanding, rubbed her left cheek.
"Here too."
Olivia, unaware that he was joking, diligently rubbed her face as Edgar instructed.
As she wiped here and there, wasn't it her whole face?
Olivia glared at Edgar, her already red face even redder from the friction of her fingers.
Even if she drooled in her sleep, how could it get all the way up to her forehead?
"You were joking."
Edgar couldn't help but burst out laughing. When he thought of Yohan's expression, he couldn't help but laugh.
The sulking woman turned her head to the window. Edgar stifled his laughter.
The Carriage was running over the Bichen River. The shimmering reflections, illuminated by the bridge's ornate lights, sparkled on the river.
It was as dazzlingly beautiful as the woman's eyes.
For some time after the Carriage passed, Yohan remained frozen, unmoving.
The watch on his wrist flashed in the passing streetlights, then disappeared into the darkness.
Yohan slowly closed his eyes, his face sharp yet somehow keen.
'I love you. Yohan. I like you so much.'
His left chest felt heavy as he recalled the woman crying in his arms.
He had neglected the woman.
Diane Brooke was also to blame, but he could not be free from responsibility for initially disregarding his wife, thereby giving her the excuse to treat her that way.
And as a result.
She no longer loved him.
Yohan's conclusion after seeing Olivia with Edgar was that.
An already finished relationship.
That was the present between him and Olivia.
Yohan opened his eyes. His slow gaze captured the night scenery of Litten. He lightly clenched and unclenched his fist.
It was not an appropriate time to get back his mother's keepsake, the Pink Diamond Necklace.
"To the hotel."
His emotionless face gave a short command. The Carriage turned its head.
"You played so well."
The coach praised Princess Anne Boleyn, who had successfully hit a volley, and made a fuss. Anne Boleyn wore a satisfied expression and said.
"Let's take a break."
"Yes, Princess."
Anne Boleyn passed the coach, who bowed respectfully, and approached the parasol where her friends were waiting.
The hem of her white pleated skirt fluttered at her shins.
Anne Boleyn liked her newly tailored tennis outfit.
It was incomparably less restrictive and even cooler than the flared skirt that came down to her ankles.
She handed her racket to her maid and sat down. Katherine handed her a soda water filled with ice.
The day had become quite hot. Tennis on a hot summer day, even just sitting still. It was an ordeal that Katherine could not understand, but she was happy to cheer on her friend.
"That tennis outfit is so pretty."
Anne Boleyn smiled brightly at Katherine's compliment.
"I think this design is the best too. It's kind of fresh. It really suits the Princess."
One of the maids chimed in.
Madam Lauren's dresses were famous even in Rondos. After the Anne Gilbert Necklace incident, everyone knew her in many ways.
Katherine also had several of her dresses.
"I was thinking of getting a few autumn dresses from Madam Lauren while I'm in Litten. Could you call her for me later?"
The atmosphere at the table suddenly dropped at Katherine's request.
Katherine saw Anne Boleyn's brow furrow slightly. The maid sitting next to her glanced at the Princess and answered instead.
"That woman has now become Olivia Blanchett's exclusive designer. It's really infuriating."
Katherine, who didn't know the inside story, blinked her big eyes blankly and asked.
"Miss Blanchett?"
"Yes. She's really not an ordinary person. Marquis Lancelot and Madam Lauren."
"Could there be some circumstances we don't know about?"
The Olivia that Katherine knew was not that kind of woman. She had only met her a few times, but she was certainly not the kind of woman the newspapers were talking about.
So she didn't believe it.
She also lived a life where every move she made was news, so she knew how exaggerated it was.
"What circumstances? Did you see the newspaper today? This is so hypocritical that I can't help but laugh."
The maids looked at the charity article about Olivia Blanchett in the morning newspaper with a look of disillusionment.
"An angel. It's ridiculous."
It was hard to tell who was the child and who was the adult as she ran around with the children against the backdrop of an orphanage.
She just looked like a naive girl.
"She's going to come to the competition after all. If it were me, I wouldn't be able to take a step outside the house out of embarrassment. She's really an amazing woman in some ways."
Katherine was uncomfortable with this topic. She was worried that Irene, who was engaged to Yohan, might be upset.
"Princess Krantz. You should be careful too."
Irene, who had been listening to the conversation quietly, raised her half-lowered eyelids and looked at the maid.
"I heard from my husband yesterday that the Duke's Carriage was heading in the opposite direction from the hotel."
"He must be going home. Surely."
Another person waved their hand.
"It wasn't Winston House either."
"Then, surely?"
"He said he had an important appointment with someone for business."
Irene, who had been silently drinking her tea, cut off the suspicion in one stroke.
She found the attitude of the noble ladies, who glanced at her with pity, very rude and unpleasant.
"Oh, have you decided on a dress?"
Katherine asked Anne Boleyn. She had been watching Irene and changed the subject appropriately.
"Not yet."
"Not yet?"
Katherine asked back, exaggerating her surprise at Anne Boleyn's answer.
"The opening party is tomorrow and you haven't decided yet?"
"I've picked out about three dresses. I like them all. Will you help me, Katherine?"
"Leave it to me."
Katherine clapped her hands and smiled like a girl. For ladies, choosing a dress was as exciting as facing their first love.
"Will that woman come too?"
"Are you crazy? What kind of humiliation would she suffer at her ex-husband's hotel opening party? The Princess is there too."
One noble lady scoffed and then spoke venomously.
The topic, which had been difficult to turn around, changed to Olivia Blanchett again.
Katherine sighed briefly. The biggest concern in Litten seemed to be Yohan's ex-wife.
"You never know. She might show up proudly with Marquis Lancelot by her side. You know, for show. She's the kind of woman who would do that."
"Now that I hear it, that's true. That woman seems to want attention. This is more certain than volunteering at an orphanage."
Anne Boleyn's movements, who had been putting down her glass and wiping the moisture from her fingers on a handkerchief, stopped.
Anne Boleyn's amber eyes slowly sank into a deep darkness.
"She won't come. She's not that inconsiderate."
Katherine said patiently.
At that moment, a camera flash burst in Anne Boleyn's head.
If she doesn't come...
I'll make her come.
Anne Boleyn wore a quiet smile.
The midday sunlight that slipped onto the pure white parasol reached Anne Boleyn's hair, which fluttered gently in the breeze, and shone red.
She swept back her hair, which was tied high, with an elegant gesture.
That day, when Litten's social circles and the media were paying attention.
There was no more certain humiliation than this.
Yohan had an official luncheon with the King of Britt and then met with him separately.
The King welcomed Yohan greatly.
There were extremely formal and obvious words of praise, thanking him for contributing to the economic development of Britt.
Then, as the two men began to get down to business, a small argument occasionally leaked out the door.
Then, the conversation continued as naturally as flowing water, and Yohan, who had reached an agreement on adjusting the tariff reduction rate on the condition of establishing a factory in his own country, came out of the audience room with a satisfied expression.
Maurice handed him a letter sealed with red sealing wax, as if he had been waiting.
"Princess Krantz sent it."
「I have something to tell you.」
The elegant, neat handwriting was asking him to stop by briefly before returning.
Yohan, who was heading to the West Palace, ran into Irene, who was strolling in the garden.
"Do you have a moment?"
It seemed closer to the woman's waiting than a chance encounter. Yohan tilted his head slightly and looked at his watch.
"I'm fine."
"Then, let's take a walk for a while."
Irene held out her hand to the maid. The maid handed her a parasol. It meant not to follow.
The two walked silently along a secluded path. The golden sunlight of the late afternoon filled their feet.
Only the sound of footsteps echoing on the paving stones was heard in the silence.
What was she trying to say that was taking so long?
The woman's silence irritated Yohan's languid nerves.
Just as they were approaching the large fountain where the foam was breaking white, Irene finally slowly parted her lips.
