Chapter 61
The Arrival of the End
Prince Mikhail's unit, where he was serving as an officer, was ordered to be dispatched to suppress the colonial civil war.
A farewell party for the Prince was held at the Doherty Club in Litten.
The party, which had started in broad daylight, had reached a point by the time Yohan arrived in the evening where no one could stand straight on their own two feet.
Under the dreamy light of red lamps with golden shades, amidst thick cigarette smoke, the pungent scent of strong liquor, and the fast-paced dance music flowing from the gramophone, they resembled decadent young people chasing after the last pleasures in a world where the end was nigh.
"Is the sun going to rise in the west tomorrow?"
All eyes were on Yohan. What wind had blown him here?
"Hyung."
Mikhail, his words slurred, staggered towards Yohan, who was entering with a languid air, and hugged him.
Extending an arm to keep him at bay, Yohan sat down.
"Will we ever see each other again?"
"Who knows."
Yohan responded indifferently.
"Hyung!"
Mikhail shouted at the top of his lungs.
Yohan ordered a bottle of bourbon and put a cigar in his mouth. He hated noisy places, but today he intended to stay for a while.
That is, until he heard Olivia's name mentioned somewhere.
Yohan nonchalantly lit the end of his cigar. The table behind him had become boisterous.
"I give her 30 minutes."
"Sara Pavlova, you know. 30 minutes is too long."
The men snickered. The thought of a beautiful woman being humiliated on the grass court evoked a sense of pity.
"I bet on Olivia Blanchett."
The idlers whistled and jeered.
"It's not just a Beauty bet. Her opponent is the world number one. Have you forgotten?"
"Perhaps if Ms. Blanchett had debuted earlier, Sara would have been number two."
A man who knew about Olivia, whom he himself didn't know. Yohan turned his head over his shoulder.
It was Queen Mother Britt's maternal cousin, known for his distinctive red curly hair.
"Oh! You've seen her in person."
The man who had yielded the 12th court to a woman at the Dumblin Club smiled instead of answering and raised his glass.
He was divorced.
Recalling that clear fact, he took out another cigar. He could just stop caring, but it wasn't easy.
Olivia. Olivia. Olivia everywhere.
She was a woman with a truly amazing talent. He heard her name every day now, even more so after the divorce than when they lived together.
He put down his crystal glass and lightly flicked his wrist to check his watch. Yohan's brow furrowed slightly.
His thoughts, which he used to control freely, were now almost uncontrollable when it came to her. Damn it.
The symptoms that had appeared after opening the Pandora's box called Diane Brooke were becoming more severe after their reunion in Britt.
Coming to a noisy club, which he didn't usually frequent, after leaving the office was certainly not because of Mikhail.
He needed something to focus on. Otherwise, everything would be filled with…
"Why are you here? Aren't you curious about Ms. Blanchett's match?"
Yohan exhaled a long stream of cigar smoke.
Princess Krantz had stayed behind with Catherine, saying she would cheer for Anne Boleyn. Perhaps she felt awkward.
It would be ridiculous for Yohan to watch his ex-wife's match alone, and even more ridiculous to sit next to his fiancée.
There was no need to create unnecessary gossip.
"No way, hyung. Did you choose me? To come here?"
"You pathetic fool."
"I'm touched, hyung!"
Mikhail flailed his arms towards Yohan once again.
With a prince of a nation acting like this, it seemed the monarchy was coming to an end.
Yohan, having emptied a bottle of bourbon, got up from his seat.
Neither the strong liquor nor the decadent space that felt like the end of the world were of much help in distracting him.
In the center of the club, men and women pressed tightly together were dancing the tango to the sensual melody that surged like a tide.
Mikhail, who was holding the woman's slender waist, waved and winked at Yohan.
It was a farewell.
Yohan lightly tilted his chin and walked outside. Yohan walked down the street, which was awash in dazzling lights.
The Carriage, waiting to take the Duke, followed slowly behind him.
Olivia's appearance caused another uproar.
The murmur in the stands disappeared for a moment, then became noisy all at once, as if the volume had been turned up.
"Oh my goodness, is she crazy? How can she dress like that…"
The noblewomen clicked their tongues at Olivia as she entered the grass court.
Olivia was wearing a white short-sleeved pique shirt, knee-length shorts of the same color, and sneakers.
It was truly unconventional.
"For a lady to wear shorts that only boys wear is not proper. The end is truly nigh."
"What on earth should we call that unheard-of outfit…"
"It's so indecent that I can't bear to look at it."
The chaotic reactions of the old women, who were horrified that the end had come, and the young ladies, who tilted their heads at the novel attire they had never seen before, reached Olivia's ears.
Olivia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then, she blocked out all her senses.
I have to concentrate.
Like dust floating in the air, she suppressed the stray thoughts wandering in her mind.
Slowly, very slowly.
Then, she gathered the light seeping through her eyelids.
The dot-like light gradually increased in size, becoming a sphere, and when it finally took the shape of a perfect tennis ball, she slowly opened her eyes.
I'm only thinking about this now.
Her hardened eyes shone quietly under the summer sun.
Olivia walked to the net.
Sara Pavlova, wearing a white blouse and a flared skirt that reached her ankles, also approached the center.
So, this is the world number one.
Her gaze, even more intense than at yesterday's press conference, stared directly at Olivia.
The woman she saw up close had a generally cold impression, befitting her nickname, Ice flame.
'Her specialty is a strong serve. The fact that she has no weaknesses is her strength and our weakness.'
Olivia fully understood those words. She couldn't sense any openings from Sara Pavlova.
A cold aura flowed down her sunlit silver hair.
The two, who had been staring at each other as if exploring, simultaneously reached out their hands over the net.
"Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine."
It was just as the two were about to shake hands that the match official shouted.
"Everyone, show your respects."
People stood up all at once in the stands surrounded by blue fences.
Sara lowered her hand first and turned to the side. Olivia also slowly turned her body.
"!"
The protagonist of the unexpected appearance was Anne Boleyn Grace Britt.
She was entering the VIP section. Following her were Princess Catherine, and then a woman gracefully descending the stairs.
Why…
Olivia's expression turned blank.
It was none other than the Princess of Krantz, Yohan Leopold's fiancée.
As the princesses appeared, camera flashes burst loudly in the clear sky.
As befitting a country that loved tennis, watching royalty watch tennis was a familiar sight.
However, it was rare for them to visit the stadium without prior notice.
Wasn't this the match of Olivia Blanchett, who had been rumored to have a secret rendezvous with the Marquess, Princess Anne Boleyn's lover?
Moreover, Princess Krantz, the fiancée of Duke Leopold, was here to watch the match of the Duke's divorced ex-wife…
In order not to miss the scoop of Litten society, which had been constantly making headlines lately, the photojournalists pressed the shutter buttons until their fingers burned.
The audience also began to stir. It was a more exciting spectacle than the outcome of the match.
The smell of gunpowder was acrid. The peace that Olivia had struggled to gather and hold onto shattered into pieces.
She had thought he had returned to Rondos with that man.
She never imagined he would appear here.
'…Does he know too?'
'Know what?'
'That I'm here, at your hotel.'
Yohan had replied briefly that he did.
Why did she come?
It must be unpleasant.
He wouldn't want to see her.
Olivia bit her lip. The summer weather, with no breeze, felt unbearably hot.
"Ms. Blanchett."
It was the call of the event staff that brought her wandering mind back.
"Ah… yes."
"Pay your respects to Her Highness."
According to the match regulations, the players had to pay their respects to the royalty.
Olivia, hesitating, finally took a step.
She approached the VIP section with Sara Pavlova.
The closer she got to Princess Krantz, the faster Olivia's heart beat, as if she had committed a crime.
She didn't have the courage to face Yohan's fiancée.
Olivia walked silently, only looking at the blue grass being trampled by her white sneakers.
Anne Boleyn looked down at Olivia Blanchett, who was bowing before her.
Anne Boleyn leisurely enjoyed the moment when her position and the position of the lowly bastard were once again clearly confirmed.
Just how great was her skill in seducing Edgar?
She nodded gracefully.
She didn't forget to give both players an equal smile.
Of course, this moment was also very thrilling, but the reason why Anne Boleyn had brought Catherine and Irene, who had come to watch her first match, to this place was different.
It was to force Irene, who had politely declined, saying she was not feeling well, to come along.
To break her composure.
Olivia froze like ice when she made eye contact with Irene.
Anne Boleyn barely suppressed a laugh. She stared directly at Edgar, who was sitting in the VIP section across from her.
His eyes, like a winter sky full of clouds, narrowed.
Watch closely, Ed.
How your Checkmate collapses.
Olivia Blanchett began to waver.
The summer sun was getting hotter.
As much as the match between the bastard divorcee and the world's number one player.
The sight of the spectators' heads moving back and forth in unison, following the ball, was a familiar sight at the Dumblin tournament.
However, Edgar's gaze was entirely fixed on Olivia Blanchett.
"Fifteen, love!"
Olivia made a mistake as her Drop shot hit the net.
I knew it, it was nothing special.
Anne Boleyn in the VIP section, Sara Pavlova, who had just served, and the spectators who had come to the stadium to see the skills of the shameless seductress with their own eyes, all came to the same conclusion.
In the end, it was all about her body.
