"...Who the hell is that woman?"
Princess Anne Boleyn bit her red lip.
That woman.
Edgar slowly closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and slowly opened them.
"Mine. Checkmate."
Edgar, his patience exhausted, murmured softly.
"So tell me. Where is she?"
Someone dared to harm a player officially sponsored by Lancelot Company. Unforgivable. So his anger was a perfectly natural reaction.
It was around the time the Carriage left the city and ran along the riverbank.
The Carriage, which had been slowing down, suddenly stopped. Olivia, wondering if they had already arrived, slightly lifted the curtain.
It wasn't in front of the house.
"What's going on— Mmph."
As she turned her head towards the side window and spoke, a large hand wearing a black leather glove reached in through the window and covered Olivia's mouth.
"Mmph."
It happened in an instant.
She tried desperately to pull off the rough hand, but it wouldn't budge. Her heart was pounding as if it would burst.
She dug her nails into the man's wrist with all her might, struggling.
Ugh! The man's wrist bled as her skin tore.
"Damn it," the man cursed, and his hand momentarily lost its strength. Olivia bit the man's finger in that gap.
"Aaaagh!"
Olivia quickly snatched the wrist as it screamed and fell away.
She pulled forward with all her might. The moment the coachman's armpit caught on the window sill, she twisted her arm outward with all her strength.
"Aaaaaagh!" At the same time as the ear-splitting scream, Olivia's vision wavered.
Her movements were gradually becoming dull due to the anesthetic.
No.
Her flailing hand opened the Carriage door. The moment she took a step, Olivia, dizzy, fell to the ground.
If I lose consciousness... I can't...
Olivia, staggering to her feet, fell to the ground without taking even one step.
Her inverted vision flickered. The Bichen River water, where the red sun had fallen, gradually blurred, and soon her consciousness was cut off.
Yohan was in the smoking room with Prince Britt Mikhail and some alumni from Britt Royal University were also present.
"Edgar isn't here. Isn't he coming?"
"The Dumblin Championship is just around the corner. He must be busy," Mikhail replied to the Crown Prince's question, exhaling a long stream of smoke.
"By the way, Princess Anne Boleyn should be a little nervous."
Mikhail carefully watched Yohan's reaction as he brought up the topic.
"Why? Is Olivia Blanchett that good?"
The Crown Prince, who couldn't stand anything involving his sister, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and looked at Mikhail.
"Russell Junior was dragged around like a dog."
Laughter echoed through the smoke-filled space.
The conversation flowed towards predicting the results that Olivia Blanchett would achieve, and then turned into a bet with stakes.
While everyone was cheerful, Yohan turned away from the window and got up from his seat.
"Brother? Who are you betting on?"
Mikhail smiled and looked up at Yohan.
What a pathetic guy.
Yohan shot a curse with his eyes, gave a light bow to the Crown Prince, and went outside.
As the party progressed, the lights became brighter.
Yohan's eyes were sharp as he walked through the long corridor with rows of crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and headed towards the banquet hall.
The moment he had been looking forward to was boring.
Everywhere he went, it was Olivia, Olivia.
Olivia Blanchett.
Yohan sighed deeply and Edgar came into view at the end of his vision as he was about to enter the hall.
His long eyes narrowed. His gray eyes slowly scanned around Edgar.
Olivia was nowhere to be seen.
Edgar was talking to an old lover.
He felt relieved, but also strange.
He thought of the woman who was cowering in a corner of the glamorous party.
She was a foolish woman who would shrink her small shoulders, but still stubbornly follow him.
She would collide, break, and eventually be ruined.
'I'm your wife. Let me go with you. So I won't be ashamed... I'll do well, as I've been taught.'
What could she have learned from Diane Brooke? Would that bitch have taught her properly?
He didn't know it then, but recalling the newly discovered truths made his blood run cold.
His heart ached again when he thought of his wife, who was stuck in the dark terrace, her eyes red with tears.
As he habitually looked down at his watch, Maurice approached him urgently.
Maurice whispered something in Yohan's ear over the loud music. Yohan's steely eyes sank deeply.
It was then that an employee holding a silver tray approached.
"Princess Krantz would like to see you for a moment."
An employee in a Leopold Hotel uniform politely delivered the message. Yohan's brow furrowed slightly.
He raised his eyes and quickly scanned the large hall.
"Where is she?"
"She said she would be in room 3016."
"Did you receive the request directly from the Princess?"
The employee hesitated and lowered his gaze.
"The Princess's maid told me."
Yohan nodded briefly, signaling that he could leave, and gestured to Maurice. Maurice followed the employee.
If Princess Krantz called for Yohan, it should have been in the suite he had given her or in his office. That was the norm.
Room 3016...
He didn't know who was plotting what, with what intentions.
Yohan willingly climbed the central staircase. He placed his hand on the curved railing and slowly stepped up the stairs, looking down at the hall.
People spinning and dancing in the overheated atmosphere. People gathering in groups of three or five, laughing and chatting. There was nothing strange.
Who is it?
His calm gaze swept around the banquet hall and met the eyes of a woman standing next to an outer pillar.
It was Princess Anne Boleyn.
The Princess's gaze, which briefly lingered, turned back to Edgar.
Yohan, who had reached the last step, strode across the arabesque-patterned carpet.
The sounds of music and laughter from the party faintly echoed in the relatively quiet third-floor hallway.
Yohan slowly passed the guest room doors and stood in front of room 3016. The numbers, illuminated, shone in gold.
Yohan took his hand out of his pocket and knocked lightly.
There was no sign of anyone inside. Yohan knocked again and opened the guest room door without hesitation.
The heat of the banquet hall, where the party was in full swing, was intense. And someone carefully added fuel to that heat.
"Do you know who I just saw?"
As a noblewoman who approached the group lowered her voice as if making a secret revelation, the surroundings became quiet.
"I saw Olivia Blanchett. Why, that shameless femme fatale."
"Oh my goodness! What is she doing here? She has no shame."
"But what's even more surprising is..."
The woman lowered her voice even further as if conscious of her surroundings, and people stopped breathing and pricked up their ears.
"Leopold Duke went into the room that woman went into."
"N, no way."
"I saw it with my own two eyes."
The venue buzzed. Some sighed, some were shocked, and the rumors spread quickly like wildfire.
The invited reporters were the first to move. Following them, pleasure-seekers who would jump out of bed even in their sleep at the mention of a love scandal began to climb the stairs, and people who enjoyed watching fights joined in.
Edgar glared at Anne Boleyn fiercely.
Anne Boleyn smiled brightly.
"Blood is thicker than water, I guess. Don't you think so, Ed?"
Finally, Edgar began to sprint madly towards the central staircase.
Anne Boleyn smiled coldly as she watched the man's back.
Irene was in the lounge with Catherine.
Wherever people gathered, there was only talk about her fiancé's ex-wife.
The lounge was no different.
When the topic of the tennis tournament, which was only a week away, came up, Princess Anne Boleyn's story came out, and Olivia Blanchett was naturally mentioned. She was on edge.
She could see in her mind what kind of life she would live if she married that man. Just thinking about it made her feel suffocated and tired.
Irene got up from her seat. She thought it would be better to rest in the room Yohan had given her.
Irene's maid entered just as she was about to take a step.
"Leopold Duke requests to see you."
"..."
What's going on? Irene stared blankly at the maid and asked.
"Where is he?"
"He is waiting in room 3016."
She couldn't figure out what he was thinking. Did they give her the wrong room?
Even so, he could have told her after the party. He wasn't the type to look for her like this. Irene swallowed a sigh and got up.
"It seems the Duke is already longing for you," the noble ladies said, making a fuss with tones of envy and jealousy.
Irene gave them a light nod and followed the maid. Her steps were heavy.
The elevator door opened. Irene got off with the maid.
"!"
Irene's expression hardened.
"Can you please be quiet?"
The center of the hallway was bustling.
The place where people were gathered was none other than in front of room 3016. They had their ears pressed close to the guest room door.
Irene couldn't figure out what was going on.
On the other hand, the onlookers who were listening to what kind of shady things were happening inside were shocked to see the Princess.
Oh my goodness!
It was the worst scandal.
Under the soft lighting, the Princess's figure, fluttering in her black dress, was very elegant as she approached quietly.
She didn't seem to know anything about the situation beyond the guest room door. How pitiful.
"What's going on?"
Irene, who had stopped in front of them, asked calmly.
She sensed that something was wrong, but her unwavering expression and posture had become a habit.
"W, well..."
No one answered clearly.
They couldn't bring themselves to speak, imagining the shock that the dignified and beautiful princess from another country would receive, given the exciting spectacle.
As they were looking at each other, someone was running from the end of the hallway.
Oh my goodness! What is going on?
Everyone's attention was now focused on a man.
Edgar Lancaster Lancelot. He was the protagonist of the dating rumors with the former Leopold Duchess.
The onlookers now forgot to breathe and looked back and forth between the two.
Edgar's eyes, who had run up to the third floor in one breath, were fierce.
