Chapter 60 - Dumblin Championship

Translator: Nox

During the Dumblin Championship, the entire city around the stadium was buzzing with excitement.

Hotels held parties every night, department stores were busy selling souvenirs, and restaurants were busy capturing the taste buds of tourists with special menus offered only during this season.

It wasn't just them. Just as busy were the reporters.

They had to run tirelessly between Litten Central Station and Litten Port to cover the players coming from all over and entering from various countries, and they also had to attend press conferences of the leading championship contenders.

The number of reporters who came to cover the event showed the popularity of the player.

What audacity to hold them at the same time.

Someone clicked their tongue at the sight of the reporters filling the seats without a single empty spot.

Olivia Blanchett, who had disappeared after her appearance at the Rondos Consulate, was holding her first official press conference.

And at the same time as Princess Anne Boleyn's press conference. This was a clear challenge and a psychological warfare tactic.

"Hey, can you move over a bit more?"

"Hey, you with the hat. Either bend your knees or move your seat, be considerate. Don't ruin the angle."

It was as if everyone had come here instead of the Britt Palace press room; the Grand Ballroom of the Lancelot Hotel was more chaotic and noisy than ever.

Overwhelmed by the heat, Olivia massaged her stiff hands. She tried to calm her breathing.

"There's nothing to be nervous about."

Edgar gave her a bright smile. But even that charming smile was of no help now.

Standing in front of the people who had written the barrage of critical articles that had been pouring out every day made her chest feel tight again.

"If it's hard to answer, pass it on to Russell Junior."

Russell Junior, who was fixing his attire in front of the mirror, shrugged his shoulders and said.

"Trust me. Olivia... ah, I mean, Ms. Blanchett."

Had they become so close that he was calling her by her first name so casually after being together for so long?

Edgar looked at Russell Junior and smiled silently. Fortunately, Russell Junior had that much sense.

"Tell me when you're ready."

Olivia took a deep breath.

"Ready. ...I'm ready."

Her eyes, which had been wavering like waves, finally became determined.

"Good."

Edgar lightly placed his hand on Olivia's shoulder.

"Shall we go?"

Olivia nodded.

The employees holding the golden handles of the huge red door opened it at the same time.

A murmur rushed in and then became deathly silent.

Olivia, with her hand on Russell Junior's arm, took her first step.

Olivia straightened her shoulders, composed her expression, and closed her eyes tightly as she stepped into the conference hall.

The intense flashes of cameras went off all at once, and her vision went white.

The popping sounds, reminiscent of fireworks, hit her ears one after another. She was completely disoriented.

"Here, please look here."

"Ms. Blanchett! This way. This way too."

Russell Junior's voice flowed into her muffled ears.

"Are you okay?"

Russell Junior asked, tilting his head slightly. Olivia, who had been feeling dizzy for a moment, slowly opened her eyes.

After blinking a few times, her vision gradually cleared.

"Yes. Let's go now."

Olivia pulled herself together to avoid showing any signs of nervousness. She didn't forget to put a smile on her face.

She walked with an elegant gait to the podium with an unwavering posture.

Russell Junior pulled out Olivia's chair and sat next to her as she sat down. Soon the venue became quiet.

Olivia, who had been looking down at the table covered with dark purple Bordeaux cloth, slowly raised her gaze.

Where and how should I bite? A ferocious energy was vivid.

Unfriendly eyes were glaring as if they would pounce on her at any moment.

Olivia took a deep breath and placed her two hands, covered in lace gloves, on the table and clasped them together.

Russell Junior, reading the signal that she was ready, opened the floor.

"Thank you for coming despite your busy schedules. This year, I'm here to greet you as Olivia Blanchett's coach, not as a player. As you all know, I'm Russell Junior Dickson. Is there anyone who doesn't know me? Ahahaha. The reason I became Ms. Blanchett's coach is... it was fate. How it started was..."

Geez, he talks too much.

No one was curious at all. The reporters' faces were contorted.

What should they do with that tall, handsome nobleman who was taking up the time to ask questions to Olivia, who was the one they were actually curious about?

It was then.

"Michael Dossett from The Sun Daily."

A reporter who stood up abruptly cut off Russell Junior's rambling at once.

It was an outrageous act that a commoner reporter would not have dared to do, but he was also a nobleman.

His usual annoying swagger seemed so welcome today.

"It's an honor to meet you, Ms. Blanchett."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Dossett."

Olivia, sitting up straight, greeted him.

Her heart was pounding, but maintaining a calm smile was as difficult as holding back a sneeze.

"You're making your debut in a major tournament, do you think you're qualified enough?"

The Sun.

It was the newspaper that called Olivia a brazen woman who was sleeping with her ex-husband's rival.

It was also one of the places that raised the absurd suspicion that she had earned her qualification with her body, and it was also the place that most maliciously distorted and fabricated the truth.

"I will show you with the results of this tournament."

Like a solid frozen blue lake, Olivia's eyes became firm.

"Isn't that a bit of an overestimation of yourself?"

Michael Dossett sneered openly and continued his question.

"Your first opponent is Sara Pavlova. Does that mean you're confident you can win?"

Olivia did not avoid the gaze filled with contempt and disregard. Rather, she showed an even more relaxed expression.

"It means I will do my best."

"What is your relationship with Marquis Lancelot?"

"......"

It was a rude question.

Michael Dossett drew his lips together with a sly look and stared at Olivia, who was embarrassed.

The reporters, who had been cheering for Dossett for scratching their itchy spot, turned their attention to Olivia.

Her eyes were strangely filled with coldness.

The Grand Ballroom was so overheated with the feverish coverage that it was suffocating.

"I told you that I don't answer questions about my personal life. Either change your question or give someone else a chance to ask-"

"I asked Ms. Blanchett."

Russell Junior gritted his teeth, glaring at Michael Dossett, who had cut him off.

Angry at the rudeness, he shook his legs under the podium.

Just wait until I meet you in private.

Edgar, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, shifted his gaze to Olivia.

The woman's neat face, which did not take her eyes off the reporter, was just calm, and it was impossible to know what she was thinking.

What is she thinking with that little head?

When I used you and thought of you as a disposable card, what did you think of me?

Edgar's shaded eyes, looking at the woman helplessly, darkened like an abyss.

Olivia decided not to run away. She had done nothing wrong.

"If I answer, will you write it down properly?"

Olivia's expression, staring at the reporter, was surprisingly calm.

She was afraid of people's eyes.

She always hid because she knew how they looked at her, but she decided not to do that anymore.

"Or will you write an article that you like despite my answer?"

Michael Dossett's face was hit hard.

The woman, who was expected to tremble with shame as her face turned red and bloodless, had an unexpectedly dignified attitude.

The sight was even graceful.

Olivia's calm silence, which lasted for a while, was effective.

The vulgar questions that had been written down in notebooks with the intention of linking her to Princess Anne Boleyn, including the necklace incident, were blocked in an instant.

"I used to play tennis sometimes when I stayed at the Lancelot Hotel. Lancelot, who saw my skills at that time, made me an offer. He and I have only met a few times as the representative of the sponsor and the player of the agency."

Olivia even showed the composure to smile and ask the reporter a question.

"The truth is too boring, isn't it? Do you have any more questions, Mr. Dossett?"

"...No. ...Thank you for your answer."

"I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow's article in The Sun."

Olivia showed her expectations and slowly looked around the audience.

"Isn't there anyone who is curious about my playing style?"

Olivia asked kindly to the reporters who were staring at the podium with blank expressions.

"If it's about the techniques I use, I can tell you a more interesting story."

Olivia's smile, enhanced by the light of the Grand Ballroom's splendid chandelier, was radiant.

It wasn't the answer he had expected, but Edgar smiled silently.

It was hard to believe that she was playing with the reporters in the palm of her hand, as if she had been frozen like a bloodless person with a pale face.

She's so good at it, but she's exaggerating.

Edgar chuckled and lowered his head, covering his mouth with his hand to stop the laughter from bursting out. His gaze moved from her neat face, past her neatly folded hands, down to her slender ankles along the hem of her dark navy skirt.

The ribbon of her glossy cream-colored satin shoes was fluttering.

Heh, Edgar lowered his head and covered his mouth with his hand to stop the laughter from bursting out.

Olivia desperately hoped that this time would pass quickly.

Olivia Blanchett...

Sara Pavlova was watching her from the back of the conference hall, leaning against the wall.

Her eyes, coldly sunken as befitting the nickname Ice flame, were burning quietly.

And then Sara Pavlova came into Olivia's sight.

The two people's eyes met in the air.

Sara raised one corner of her mouth in a long line.

The first female player sponsored by Lancelot Company.

I'll see tomorrow whether her skills are on the bed or on the court.

Sara Pavlova straightened her back against the wall and turned around.

Her high-tied silver hair sparkled like transparent ice in the light of the splendid chandelier.

And the next day, a celebratory firework announcing the opening of the Dumblin Championship echoed in the sky of Litten.