The woman sniffled, her head bowed.
"I... I did it."
"The reason?"
Johann's eyes, having not slept well the previous night, were sharp.
"I hated that woman. Daring to wear the necklace Princess Anne Boleyn wore, shamelessly stealing the Marquess, who was Princess Anne Boleyn's lover..."
The woman couldn't continue, choked up with sobs.
"Go on."
"Now even the tennis tournament. It was agonizing to watch Princess Anne Boleyn suffer. That woman needed to know her place. So..."
"So you did it."
The woman nodded, head still bowed, dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief.
Angela Birkin.
The unremarkable second daughter of the Birkin Baron family and a low-ranking lady-in-waiting to Princess Anne Boleyn.
Unfortunately, the woman didn't seem like someone who could kidnap and confine a person, driving them into a state of mental weakness to exploit their predicament.
To put it politely, she was naive; to put it bluntly, she was stupid.
Johann, not wanting to waste words, cut to the chase.
"How much did you receive?"
"I've been telling you, I did it all on my own. For Princess Anne Boleyn, who is my benefactor."
'Angela, you know you're the only lady-in-waiting I trust. You're the only one.'
Angela clenched her hands tightly under the table.
She was someone trusted by the noble Princess Anne Boleyn.
Whenever she felt afraid, recalling the Princess Anne Boleyn's whispers made it all feel like a noble sacrifice, making it bearable.
"The McDowell House's coachman, the grocery store clerk, the hotel staff. 10,000 francs each. Not listed in the Birkin Baron family's financial records."
"...I sold my jewelry."
Jewelry given by the Princess Anne Boleyn, no doubt. If the Birkin Baron family had that kind of financial flexibility, why would they have taken out a high-interest loan?
If she had given a more plausible reason, he might have pretended to be fooled.
"Where is it? That jeweler."
"Cartina."
Johann glanced at Maurice. Maurice gave a short bow and left the office.
He's sending someone to check, Angela thought. It was a futile effort. The jeweler had already been bought off by the Princess Anne Boleyn.
"It's no use. I planned it all myself. So please, don't threaten Princess Anne Boleyn with this any further."
What was as dangerous as greed was naivety. Without even realizing she was being used, without knowing she was being abandoned, the woman's life would end.
Johann lit a cigarette. He took a puff of smoke and leaned back against the sofa.
"Is it worth it?"
Johann murmured softly, exhaling a long stream of smoke.
"I don't know how much you pocketed."
The woman's eyes narrowed.
"I'm asking if that's a reason for you to rot in prison for the rest of your life."
His face was utterly indifferent. Angela felt her legs tremble.
The sunlight streaming in through the large window of the office was clearly warm, but Johann Leopold, sitting in the midst of that light, was bleak and cold.
The man, with his bright blond hair, yet reminiscent of night and dawn, stated quietly.
"I don't think so."
"..."
A lifetime.
No.
'Even if things go wrong, it'll only be three years. Of course, I'll get you out before then. I'll assign you a royal lawyer. You just have to trust me, Angela.'
I have to trust Princess Anne Boleyn. Don't waver.
Angela repeated the Princess Anne Boleyn's words once more. As if seeing right through her thoughts, Johann said decisively.
"The Princess Anne Boleyn won't bail you out."
"That's not true! Never. Princess Anne Boleyn will..."
"Because I'll have to throw someone in jail to end this."
"!"
"And the Princess Anne Boleyn."
Johann stared coldly at the woman.
"Threw you to me as that scapegoat."
"..."
It was a cruel thing to say. Angela trembled with anger and shouted.
"...No. ...That's not true. It's a lie... Who would believe it? Such a lie."
"Really, is that so?"
The woman blinked. Her lips, which had been defending the Princess Anne Boleyn as if she were a great loyalist, were tightly shut.
She looked like a defeated animal. The woman's eyes began to water again.
"You'll be staying in a detention center starting today. If you change your mind while you're there, anytime."
Detention center.
Angela clenched her jaw.
She couldn't betray Princess Anne Boleyn's trust with such threats.
Even though she was doing such trivial tasks that even the senior ladies-in-waiting didn't do.
Because Princess Anne Boleyn needs me. I'm okay.
...Am I really okay?
Angela asked herself.
She said I was the only one, but how many times had she actually spoken to the Princess Anne Boleyn? How many times had she accompanied the Princess Anne Boleyn at important events?
Had she ever smiled at her?
Still, even so, I mustn't betray her...
"I would make a deal if I were you."
At the arrogant, monotonous tone, Angela raised her downcast eyes.
The man making an irresistible offer was like a devil.
Even though it was such a bright morning, it was as if a dark blue darkness was covering the man.
It was an irresistible, devilish temptation.
I was definitely awake. I remember seeing the dark sky turn bluish in the dim light.
When I opened my eyes, the spacious room was bright. I must have dozed off while trying to figure out who was behind the kidnapping.
I wish it had all been a dream, even if it was a nightmare.
But of course not. The light coming in through the white lace curtains was too vivid for that.
Olivia shook her head, trying to shake it off, and got out of bed.
Her diligent movements meticulously tidied the bedding as if erasing her traces.
Olivia straightened her back only after thoroughly checking the bedding, stretched taut without a single wrinkle, and the carpet around the bed to see if there was a single strand of hair.
'The reporters are everywhere.'
Are the reporters still there?
Olivia, muffling her footsteps, approached the window, peeked through the curtains, and looked down.
Unfortunately, Johann's bedroom overlooked a garden full of blooming roses.
Olivia wanted to leave this place immediately. She wanted to avoid the misfortune of running into Johann, but also his fiancée.
To do that, she needed clothes to put on and leave. Being in her underwear was a problem.
But she felt like she was facing difficulties from the very beginning.
Sure enough.
"Ah..."
Olivia sighed softly, disheartened.
In the dressing room, which she found after mistakenly opening two doors in the room that was so spacious and luxurious that it couldn't even be compared to the suite at the Lancelot Hotel where she had been staying, there were no clothes for a woman to wear.
The clothes neatly hung on all three sides were all men's clothes. Even if she were to dress as a man, Johann's clothes were all long and large.
What should I do?
Olivia's eyebrows drooped.
She couldn't move rashly. No matter how much she wanted to avoid Johann Leopold, she had to admit that she needed his help in this situation.
It was then, as she was biting her lip as a habit in the face of the bleak reality, that someone knocked on the room door. Startled, Olivia reflexively closed the dressing room door.
The knock sounded again.
In a short moment, countless situations flashed through her mind.
When she thought it might be Princess Krantz, her pulse raced unusually fast.
What should she say to her?
She wanted to think of a more sincere and plausible apology than 'I'm sorry,' but her thoughts stopped.
Please, just go back.
Olivia, pale as a ghost, prayed earnestly in her heart, but the sound of the room door opening mercilessly rang out.
Her heart sank.
Olivia, covering her mouth with her hand to prevent a scream from escaping, tiptoed over and put on whatever clothes she could grab.
Anything would be better than this.
Even as she hurriedly put on her clothes, her tense nerves were focused entirely on the outside of the door.
The sounds of the door opening and closing came in succession. The bathroom door, the door leading to the inner room, and then the sound of footsteps were getting closer and closer.
Please...
Olivia lifted her heels and tiptoed to the wall next to the door. At that moment, the door swung open.
Olivia, her breath caught in her throat, squeezed her eyes shut.
A long shadow fell first on the dressing room with the red carpet.
Then, along with the light through the open door, came the refreshing scent of skin care that tickled the tip of her nose. It was the scent of that man from last night.
And then the toe of a black shoe suddenly appeared.
"!"
Olivia jumped out from behind the door.
"It was you?"
At this moment, she was more than happy to see him, not anyone else.
He didn't mean to startle her, but his gray eyes seemed to widen slightly in surprise.
Johann stared down at Olivia.
"Ah! I'm sorry. I put it on without permission."
She was looking up at him with clear, sparkling blue eyes, wrapped in a beige mac coat that reached down to her ankles.
It felt strange.
This was the first time he had seen her like this.
It was no different from a child wearing adult clothes that didn't fit.
Was this supposed to be so stimulating?
An emotion that was not appropriate to feel for his wife, or rather, his divorced wife, wearing his clothes was stirring from the bottom of his heart.
Crazy bastard.
Olivia, realizing that she was still in the state she had woken up in, tucked the hair she had gathered behind her ear and asked.
"What's the situation outside now?"
A small, square window in the dressing room revealed a handful of clear sunlight, revealing a small, white, and transparent ear with blue veins showing through.
The gaze that had been slowly sweeping across Olivia's face stopped there.
"The reporters, I mean."
If she was asking if the reporters were still everywhere, they weren't anymore.
The reporters were now rushing to Britt Palace.
Only two or so reporters from the newspaper that Princess Anne Boleyn had bought off remained.
"Worse than yesterday."
Johann paused for a moment, then skillfully continued.
"Serious."
Pathetic bastard.
Even Johann himself couldn't understand what he was thinking.
All that was clear was that he didn't want to let go of her, who no longer loved him.
It was a strange yet familiar feeling that Johann had never experienced before.
"Come out and have a meal."
The words he uttered casually sounded like an order.
