"Could you stop the Carriage for a moment?"
Olivia Blanchett requested the coachman. They were about four blocks away from Golden Avenue.
"What's wrong, Miss?"
At Anne's question, Olivia's gaze was calm.
She knew it was rude, but no matter how much she thought about it, it didn't feel right to go to Golden Avenue today.
All her senses were sounding alarms.
"Anne, I have a favor to ask."
Olivia paused, as if being cautious, before parting her lips.
"...It's going to be difficult for me to go there today. Could you deliver a message for me, Anne?"
"Of course."
Anne had been worried about it all along.
It wouldn't be good to run into the Duke, even by chance.
If such a situation were to occur, sensation-seekers would pounce like a pack of hyenas, tearing the poor Miss to shreds.
"I'll go."
"Tell them I'm sorry."
Olivia smiled faintly.
"Don't worry, Miss."
Anne got out.
Through the curtains, Olivia could see Anne hurrying into the bustling crowd.
When Anne had completely disappeared from view, Olivia took her hand off the curtain and tilted her head slightly towards the side window.
"You may start now."
The Carriage began to move to turn around.
The unexpected visitor was, surprisingly, Olivia's maid.
"Oh, Miss Anne? What brings you here?"
Gerald asked, somewhat surprised.
"The Miss sends her deepest apologies. She asks for your generous forgiveness for the rudeness of unilaterally declining today's meeting—"
"Meeting?"
Edgar interrupted the maid's rambling words.
Edgar's face, which had been full of smiles just a moment ago, gradually hardened. He narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at the maid.
The maid blinked blankly before parting her lips.
"She couldn't make it, so—"
"To where?"
"... "
The maid's face turned increasingly pale.
"T-to here. To this place... You summoned her, didn't you? Marquess."
A crease formed between Edgar's eyebrows. Seeing this, Anne trembled. Something was wrong. Anne's instincts were screaming it.
A red silence hung in the study, bathed in the setting sun.
"What made you so sure it was me?"
Edgar slowly smoothed back his neatly combed hair as he murmured in a low voice.
"B-because you sent a letter."
The maid, her face ashen, looked as if she was about to burst into tears.
"The contents?"
His coldly sinking gaze was chilling. His patience was reaching its limit.
"...The Miss read it, so I, I don't know."
Her sobbing lips trembled.
Edgar tugged at his tight tie. He slowly turned and rested his hands on the windowsill. He took a deep breath.
"Young Master," Gerald called out, but he seemed not to hear anything.
The crimson sun streaming through the window illuminated the pale man's face.
"Send someone to Marie. She might have returned."
Edgar muttered quietly, looking down at the Leopold Hotel with a silent gaze.
He saw carriages carrying famous figures from Litten society flocking to the Leopold Hotel, which was brightly lit like moths to a flame.
Carriages carrying beautiful princesses also arrived around that time. Camera flashes erupted in a flurry of light in the red city bathed in the sunset.
Princess Anne Boleyn, who had been posing gracefully in front of the photographers, turned her body.
Her slender legs paused on the stairs covered in red carpet.
"Princess Anne Boleyn! Please look over here for just a moment!"
Princess Anne Boleyn slowly turned her head. Once again, silver flashes flickered from all directions.
Princess Anne Boleyn's smile, as she gazed at the Lancelot Hotel, was like a deep red rose, dyed in the intense sunset.
The Crown Prince of Britt's tedious congratulatory speech continued.
However, the noble ladies who were gazing at Yohan, who was like a statue, had no time to be bored.
"Oh, my."
Admiration flowed out from behind fans one after another.
The Crown Prince, who repeatedly urged them to contribute to the bridge between the two countries and the economic development of Britt, finished his congratulatory speech and passed the baton to Yohan amidst thunderous applause.
Yohan bowed politely and stood on the platform in a straight posture.
His solid physique, dressed in formal attire, was striking.
The noble ladies of Britt, who were facing him in person, exclaimed from all directions.
Yohan began with an expression of gratitude to Britt and concluded his brief speech with thanks to the distinguished guests.
There was no sign of the smile that Maurice had emphasized so much.
As key figures, centered around the Crown Prince and his wife, Yohan, and Princess Krantz, took their places for the commemorative photo shoot, the photographer stepped into the booth.
Pop! With a sound, smoke scattered in a white cloud.
Yohan popped the Champagne.
The golden liquid sparkled as it flowed down from the top of the tower of Champagne glasses. Applause and cheers erupted.
It was the moment the party began.
"It's amazing."
The noble ladies, looking around the interior of the banquet hall, did not spare their admiration for the soaring high ceiling, the ornate wood panels, and the classical and elegant pillars connected to the gilded friezes, which created a mysterious feeling as if they were somewhere between an ancient temple and the cultural revival period.
"You are still as beautiful as ever today, Your Highness."
Beneath the brilliantly pouring chandelier lights, compliments from gentlemen poured in on Anne Boleyn, who was wearing a subtle gold dress.
Anne Boleyn responded to the dazed gentlemen with a seductive smile.
Even so, her gaze was searching for Edgar, as if probing between the men's shoulders.
"Princess."
A maid approached and whispered something in her ear. Anne Boleyn's lips stretched into a long line as she listened quietly.
Yohan was standing side by side with Irene, engaging in meaningless conversations with Britt's political figures.
The dignity unique to the Rondos royal family was revealed in the refined smile he occasionally showed amidst the boredom.
Irene, with her neat face, also naturally exuded an innate sense of superiority in the concise expressions she occasionally made as she nodded.
"Now that's more like it. It's a pleasure to see. Don't you think?"
Admiration poured in on the perfect couple.
As the two people, who were the owners of this hotel and were as good as the main characters of today, came to the center of the hall, the ballroom was filled one by one.
The first dance was a waltz.
The two people, standing at an appropriate distance, neither too close nor too far, made eye contact, and that alone was a wonderful picture.
Yohan lightly placed his hand on Irene's back.
The gentle melody of the violin echoed throughout the magnificent hall. Yohan led the princess.
Irene moved her feet as he led her.
The man had no expression. He was like someone handling a task that had to be done.
Nevertheless, his lead was smooth, and his graceful features made even that appearance feel dignified.
Was he like this with his wife too? Was this his indifferent face?
If only Christian had such a cold face. If he had, she would have been able to shake him off.
Christian's features overlapped with the man's face.
She hated the man who, knowing her heart, was engaged to another woman and was now sending her to his cousin.
"Speak."
It was almost at the end of the dance that Yohan opened his mouth.
"Don't you have something to say to me?"
His languid eyes fell on Irene. She did not avoid his gaze.
"I've decided to stay during the tennis tournament."
"Do as you please."
The melody of the stringed instruments, which had reached its peak, rippled.
"...I want to stay at the hotel."
The man's neat brow furrowed.
Although Catherine was nearby, Princess Anne Boleyn, with whom she had little acquaintance, was uncomfortable.
The same was true of the princess's maids and friends, who were all wearing friendly smiles.
The gaze behind it, as if looking at a pitiful woman from a small country, was very unpleasant, and sitting there pretending not to care was tiring.
"I will have a room prepared."
The night breeze blowing from the terrace was lukewarm. As a result, the man's voice felt even colder.
Was it because he resembled Christian's face that Irene's heart ached a little?
The dance came to an end.
Edgar strode up the red-carpeted stairs and across the lobby of the Leopold Hotel. The luxurious lighting stung his eyes.
'She hasn't returned yet.'
Olivia had disappeared.
His breath was constricted. The cheerful music flowing throughout the hotel slid over the nerve endings that were barely holding on.
As the doors of the grand ballroom opened on both sides, the trapped music crashed against his eardrums like a huge wave.
His gaze, piercing through the noise, flew and landed on Anne Boleyn, who was standing aloof next to the outer pillar of the hall.
As if to show off, the princess was standing there.
Their eyes met.
He was a man who could be seen at a glance, no matter how far away he was. Edgar.
Anne Boleyn tilted her Champagne glass, admiring him as he approached quickly.
The party she had prepared hadn't even started yet, but she was already enjoying it.
"Olivia. Where is she?"
His face, suppressing emotional turmoil, was cold.
"At least say hello. We should."
Anne Boleyn smiled, her amber eyes sparkling.
"I asked where she is."
"Has that woman disappeared or something?"
Anne Boleyn asked back nonchalantly, widening her eyes slightly. Then, she burst into laughter.
"Do you know how funny your expression is right now?"
So, he could be this funny. It was amusing to see him acting as if Olivia Blanchett was something precious to him.
"This doesn't suit you."
"What doesn't?"
"Sincerity."
The sound of her proud pride crumbling was crisp, but Anne Boleyn did not lose her elegant smile until the end.
"You don't have it. So, don't pretend to be sincere."
...Sincerity.
Edgar was stunned as if he had been hit in the back of the head. His gaze groped in the air as if trying to fathom the meaning of the unfamiliar word.
A piece to be used and discarded. It was a word that did not suit a woman who was nothing more or less than a ticket seller.
Sincerity.
He chuckled. Edgar lowered his gaze and muttered in a low voice.
"...The day you lay a finger on her."
He was amused by the woman who was deceiving him.
"Your life will end too, Anne."
