Chapter 63
Divinity
Sara Pavlova glared at Olivia, panting heavily.
Annoying.
The match had been going on for over two hours, but Olivia was unfazed. She maintained precise movements and concise steps.
Was it due to her innate superhuman strength, or was it thanks to her unconventional attire?
Whatever the reason, she had to avoid a deuce situation at all costs.
Absolutely.
Olivia regulated her breathing.
Just one point!
Her heart beat rapidly.
Her eyes met Princess Anne Boleyn's. With an unreadable expression, she was staring at Olivia.
I won't lose.
Her legs, planted on the grass, tensed.
Never!
Olivia lowered her upper body. She twirled the racket in her hands, then gripped it firmly.
The ball comes flying.
"Ha!"
With a roar, she effortlessly returned the ball that had bounced in the service box.
At that moment, Sara, spotting an opening, quickly put strength into her wrist.
Slightly angling the ball, she swiftly aimed it near the left corner.
"!"
Olivia, who had been standing near the right line, pushed off the ground and began to sprint.
I've won!
A person, especially a woman, can't be faster than a flying ball.
It was when Sara Pavlova, Anne Boleyn, and all the spectators were about to wear smug smiles at the reckless resistance.
"Hot!"
Olivia threw herself, sliding across the grass, her long, slender legs spread wide.
Gripping the racket with both hands, Olivia accurately hit the precariously flying ball with a scream.
Good heavens!
She pulled that off.
Exclamations poured out from the stands one after another.
Flustered by Olivia's dramatic Drop shot, Sara belatedly began to run towards the net.
But the ball grazed the racket head and pathetically trickled backward.
"Deuce!"
The referee's declaration echoed in the clear sky. Sara Pavlova felt the sky spinning.
At the same time, Anne Boleyn's lips trembled palely.
Edgar, having fully savored that sight, slowly shifted his gaze to Olivia.
My Checkmate.
Under the scorching sun, Olivia, heaving with her small shoulders, looked like a pure white wolf.
「Olivia Blanchett, the Appearance of a Fiery Divinity」
The slump of 'Ice flame on the Court' Sara Pavlova is concerning.
While she had repeatedly left the Dumblin tournament empty-handed, failing to even reach the finals this year and losing to the rising star Olivia Blanchett is nothing short of shocking.
Has the ice melted, or has the flame gone out?
That afternoon, extra editions were simultaneously distributed throughout Litten.
Madam Marie displayed her skills for the first time in a while.
In the cozy dining room overlooking the Bichen River, where the night sky was submerged, a splendid table was set, no less than a royal banquet.
The luxurious tableware and ornate candlesticks, which must have been brought in from the Lancelot Hotel, made it an even more plausible feast.
"To the divinity, Olivia!"
Russell Junior, who had been reading the extra edition article aloud, shouted, raising a Champagne glass bubbling with effervescence.
Elaine, her husband, and Madam Lauren, who were sitting around the round table, raised their glasses.
"Thank you, everyone."
The glasses clinked with a clear sound, and Olivia smiled brightly.
Elaine led the atmosphere cheerfully, as was her usual personality.
She got along quite well with Russell Junior.
Amidst their chatter, warm candlelight flickered on the abundant table, and laughter came and went among the people.
"But didn't you invite the Marquess?"
Elaine asked, taking a leg of duck, stuffed with spices and roasted with crispy skin, and placing it on her plate.
"I thought he might be busy..."
Olivia trailed off with a faint smile.
It was a suitable excuse.
Today, a party was being held at the Lancelot Hotel for the players, tournament officials, and invited journalists.
That man had to be there. She didn't want to trouble him.
And she thought she might feel a little hurt if she was rejected.
Olivia, holding the cutlery, stared at the vase that decorated the table.
'Congratulations on your first victory.'
After the match, Edgar was waiting in the hallway leading to the waiting room.
In his hand, he held a small bouquet of flowers.
Suddenly, she thought of her grandmother.
On graduation day, her grandmother approached a child who was holding a pretty bouquet in her arms and taking pictures surrounded by her family, and asked if she could borrow the bouquet for a moment.
At that time, she saw her grandmother's hunched back bowing even deeper.
In the photo, her grandmother was smiling brightly, but the girl was burying her flushed face in the flowers.
The bouquet had such a meaning to her. Like a shameful memory of her impoverished days.
Olivia just stood there blankly, looking at the outstretched pile of flowers.
'Why. Do you dislike flowers?'
'...Ah, it's not that. It's not that I dislike them. ...It's just that it's my first time.'
'Your first time. That's nice to hear. Those words.'
The man smiled again.
Olivia was confused as to whether the aching and burning in her chest was because of her grandmother or because of this man. Foolishly.
Olivia lightly shook her head to shake off the man's face.
She held a wine glass with a slender neck in her hand.
Her fingers looked red in the light that had passed through the amaranthine waves.
"I heard your next opponent is Seymour. What do you think?"
Elaine asked Russell Junior, watching Olivia's complexion.
She sensed that there was some change in Olivia's feelings towards Edgar.
"Seymour?"
Russell Junior, who had taken a sip of wine, was already pleasantly drunk.
He was proud and fond of Olivia, his first disciple, and she was also so beautiful.
And above all, Edgar Lancaster Lancelot was not here. So, for the first time in a while, he was feeling quite elated.
"She's not as strong a player as Pavlova, but she has tremendous stamina. If it comes to a deuce situation like today, you might struggle quite a bit. She is, you see."
Russell Junior's lengthy explanation began.
He knew people were getting bored, but he couldn't stop because Olivia was looking at him with sparkling eyes.
He wished that clean and affectionate gaze would stay on him a little longer.
All Russell Junior had in his head was that wish.
Until the damned doorbell rang.
"I'll go."
Olivia got up from her seat, taking the place of Anne, who was serving the newly brought-out lobster dish to the guests.
It seemed that the additional wine she had ordered because she thought it would be insufficient had arrived.
As she left the dining room and walked down the short hallway, Madam Marie came out of the kitchen in a hurry, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Go on with your work. I'll go. That was the most delicious roast duck I've ever had in my life."
Olivia did not forget to smile brightly and praise the madam's hard work.
A faint smile flickered on the face of the gruff Madam Marie.
She bowed her head and hurried back to the kitchen. In the meantime, the doorbell rang again.
"Yes. I'm coming."
Olivia, hurrying to the front door, flung it open wide.
The river breeze rushed in, and the sky-blue ribbon tied around the waist of her white muslin dress fluttered like dancing with the skirt hem.
"Who are you expecting?"
Olivia stared blankly up at the man. He smiled. The scent of roses wafted on the breeze that had passed over the river.
"...How did you get here?"
"I was passing by."
The man, who casually said he had stopped by, held up a large bouquet of flowers and smiled refreshingly.
Behind the man, standing with a long shadow cast, the streetlights fell, and a luxurious cruise ship was passing on the Bichen River, sparkling in orange light.
Evangeline Seymour was blinking her eyes, completely mesmerized by the breathtaking scenery she was seeing for the first time in her life.
The Seymour family's mansion was also lavishly decorated, but it lacked this kind of elegance.
Evangeline's heart was pounding as she looked around the Botanic Garden of the West Palace, which no one could enter.
The Seymour family, who had become nouveau riche after discovering a gold mine in her grandfather's time, had plenty of gold, but they had repeatedly failed to cross the threshold of high society because they had no title.
That was why Evangeline had started playing tennis. She wanted to belong to an upper-class gathering.
Just as men had the Dumblin Club, ladies of Evangeline's age had a tennis social gathering centered around Princess Anne Boleyn. A gathering of royals among royals.
'Finally, my efforts are being rewarded.'
She smoothed her carefully adorned attire in the dark, black glass window.
She checked to see if there was anything to criticize, and she shook out and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt over and over again when she heard a sound echoing on the flagstone.
Evangeline straightened her posture and gathered her hands neatly.
The murmuring voices grew closer and closer, and soon Princess Anne Boleyn revealed her elegant figure.
'Good heavens! She's really like a porcelain doll.'
Evangeline froze when she faced the princess she had admired in front of her.
Even so, Evangeline felt like she was about to cry.
"I, I greet Your Highness."
Evangeline's voice trembled terribly.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Seymour. Please, sit down."
Princess Anne Boleyn offered tea with a graceful smile. Evangeline, who was very nervous, did not dare to raise her head and only stared intently at the teacup.
The silver moon that had fallen from the glass ceiling rippled quietly in the plain white teacup.
"I heard that you don't belong to any group yet. What do you think of our tennis group?"
"Yes? Are you talking about the Royal Tennis Club?"
Evangeline's fingertips trembled as she lifted the teacup, and the tea splashed.
The daughter of a merchant family who was being ostracized was so easy to manipulate.
She was so quick to prostrate herself and wag her tail like a dog at even a crumb of kindness.
"I think Miss Seymour has enough skill to join our group."
"Th, thank you, Your Highness."
Evangeline, who was overwhelmed, didn't know what to do.
"But I think the other members have different thoughts."
Anne Boleyn put on a seemingly pitiful expression.
Evangeline, who was not good at hiding her emotions, openly made a tearful face.
"What should I do, Your Highness?"
"How about proving your skills this time?"
Anne Boleyn said enticingly with a generous smile.
"I think Miss Seymour can do it. What do you say?"
Anne Boleyn's amber eyes, which told her to use any means necessary, sparkled like starlight.
