Chapter 66
- Skill Over Subterfuge
2023.12.05.
His gray eyes were so devoid of emotion as to seem desolate.
They were pushing an absurd match upon him, a man who was ill-suited for marriage.
A filthy bastard child spawned from adultery. Solely to conceal his own child and the Crown Prince's fault.
Not content with that, Katrina was pushing Yohan, barely divorced, once more.
This time, for Rondos. The target was the princess of a Vassal Kingdom, who had been his son's lover.
She felt no guilt whatsoever. Having been born into royalty, shouldn't one fulfill the duties and responsibilities befitting that status?
"I heard you were going to Litten."
Queen Katrina's gaze deepened.
"It wouldn't be because of the princess."
The Queen's voice lowered further.
"Don't tell me. Is it because of that child?"
Yohan raised an eyebrow at the piercing gaze that seemed to cut to the core.
He was well aware that it was a blatant threat.
Yohan knew better than anyone the nature of the Queen, his aunt, who could be benevolent one moment and cruel when necessary.
He didn't want her to take an interest in Olivia.
"I will act as regent only until Mikhail returns. Then."
Yohan answered nonchalantly as he rose from his seat.
After offering a polite bow, Yohan left the office.
Sunlight streamed through the arched, elongated windows from the far end of the grand garden, piercing his eyes.
Yohan habitually glanced at his wristwatch.
8 a.m. It was almost time for Olivia's second match to begin.
"There is a warship launching ceremony in Whales, Your Highness."
The Crown Prince's aide, who had been waiting outside the door, reported on the day's schedule.
Yohan took out a cigar from his pocket and put it in his mouth.
He tilted his head to light it and then started walking. The aide's briefing followed him at length.
In the early stages of the tournament, the atmosphere in the players' waiting room was reminiscent of a ladies' tea party.
Soft voices and laughter could be heard from all directions.
But the bench where Olivia was sitting was as silent as an isolated space.
"I can't believe she's not ashamed of that outrageous outfit. It's embarrassing just watching her."
"If she knew shame, she wouldn't have chosen Anne Gilbert in the first place."
As befitted a sport of the nobility, players from prestigious families gathered in groups of twos and threes, never taking their scornful eyes off Olivia.
This made it very difficult for Evangeline and her maid, who needed to switch the water bottle containing the drug.
Olivia sat with a composed posture, checking the strings of her racket.
Although blatant taunts were exchanged and scornful glances were thrown her way, her face, bathed in the morning sunlight, remained serene.
Beside her stood a reddish-brown-haired maid.
Evangeline's anxious gaze turned to the clock on the waiting room wall. Only 30 minutes left until the match started; there was no more time to delay.
Can you do it?
She winked at the maid, sending a secret signal.
Yes, miss.
The maid nodded.
Evangeline stood up. As she passed in front of Olivia with a calm stride, she suddenly clutched her stomach and screamed.
The attention in the waiting room immediately turned to Evangeline, and murmurs of "What's wrong?" began to spread.
"Agh!"
Evangeline simply lay down at Olivia's feet and began to roll around.
"Are you alright?"
A woman, greatly flustered, bent down and asked.
"I, ...it hurts so much!"
Evangeline squeezed out tears with all her might.
"Anne! Can you go get a medic?"
At the urgent cry, Olivia's maid ran out.
Perhaps the situation seemed serious, as other players approached one by one and surrounded the two.
"You'll be alright. It might be because you're nervous. Don't worry too much. Did you happen to wear a corset?"
"N-no..."
Just as Evangeline's acting, gasping for breath as if she were about to die, was reaching its climax.
At that moment, when all eyes were focused on Evangeline, the maid, silencing her footsteps, quickly approached the bench where Olivia had been sitting and switched the water bottles.
"Oh, miss. Why is our miss suddenly like this?"
Only then did the maid cry out, looking pale.
Evangeline narrowly opened one tightly closed eye, and the maid quickly blinked.
At the signal indicating the success of the mission, Evangeline's screams gradually subsided.
Her excessively panting breaths soon calmed down as well.
"...I think I'm alright now. Can you help me up?"
She got up with the help of her maid.
"Really, are you alright?"
Olivia asked worriedly.
"Yes. Thank you for your concern, Blanchett."
Evangeline said, smoothing her disheveled hair. A white water bottle could be seen over the woman's shoulder on the secluded bench.
Now, if she just drinks that water...
The golden logo of Lancelot Company sparkled with golden dust in the sunlight streaming through the window.
It's over.
"Really. Thank you."
Evangeline smiled brightly.
The preparations for joining the Royal Tennis Club, to climb one step higher in the upper class, were complete.
Edgar's prediction was spot on.
Except for Princess Anne Boleyn's matches, the seats, which had been empty, continued to sell out every day.
Among them, Olivia's matches were particularly popular, with tickets even being traded illicitly.
Well, she had defeated Sara Pavlova, a strong contender for the championship.
Her skill had now been clearly proven beyond anyone's denial.
Henry smiled contentedly as he looked around the stands, filled with nobles in glamorous attire.
"She's quite something. You were right, Lancelot. You have a natural eye."
Edgar, who had been staring at the entrance where Olivia would soon appear, belatedly replied.
"You flatter me."
Russell Junior on his left, Henry McDowell on his right.
Ed, who had wanted to quietly watch Olivia's match, already felt fatigued.
"By the way, it's hot from this morning. Olivia will have a hard time."
Under the cloudless, clear sky, ladies in the stands fanned themselves incessantly.
At the same time, they were busy glancing at Edgar.
Accompanying Princess Anne Boleyn to yesterday's match was tantamount to announcing that the two were officially dating.
As a result, many ladies of Litten sighed, and gentlemen without a partner rejoiced.
It was only natural that the gazes of the women glancing at Edgar were hotter than the summer morning sun.
It was then, under the dazzling sunlight, that Olivia and Evangeline walked out side by side onto the well-groomed green grass court.
Flashes from cameras in the press box popped, and gunpowder smoke drifted in the breeze.
"Good luck."
"You too, Seymour. Good luck."
Evangeline turned around with a cheerful smile. The pearls embedded in her coiled hair glistened subtly.
Olivia watched her receding back.
'She's not as strong a player as Pavlova, but her stamina is incredible. If it comes to a deuce situation like today, you might struggle quite a bit.'
Olivia pondered Russell Junior's advice.
Edgar was visible in the distance in the stands. He was wearing an attractive smile, befitting the protagonist who had heated up today's newspapers.
Olivia smiled back.
She decided not to pay attention to the commotion in the stands.
Quick victory.
She decided to focus only on that fact.
The two, having been assigned their courts by the referee, headed to their respective benches.
Olivia placed her racket bag on the bench and put her water bottle on the table.
"..."
It would be nice to take a sip before the match.
Evangeline, who had been watching Olivia's actions, prayed earnestly in her heart, but luck did not come early.
Bang! With a cheerful striking sound that cut through the blue sky, Olivia Blanchett's second qualifying round match began.
"Fifteen, thirty."
Evangeline, who had the serve, frowned after making a mistake.
Evangeline was overwhelmed by her opponent's momentum.
Olivia Blanchett was more agile than she had thought, and her movements were clean and without unnecessary actions.
She repeatedly blocked Evangeline's balls. The fast and strong balls were like Sara Pavlova's.
Evangeline, who was breathing heavily with her hands on her knees, took her serving stance again. She tightened her grip on the racket she had been holding loosely.
The ball, which had risen briefly, hit the racket and flew towards Olivia.
Evangeline returned the easily hit ball. A long rally ensued.
Under the shade-less sunlight, only the sound of the racket continued for a while.
In the stands, the hands fanning grew faster, and Henry wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
Edgar, without a change in expression, still gazed at Olivia with calm eyes.
On the deep blue grass, she burned brightly like a candle consuming the peak of its life.
Looking at such a woman made his heart pound, just like that night when their lips had met.
'Edgar...'
Unconsciously, his arms unfolded, and the tips of his long fingers caressed his lips.
She soared again. The ball, hit by the strongly descending racket, struck the opponent's service box.
A cheer erupted from the stands at the fantastic Drop shot, but when they realized it was Olivia Blanchett's work, they closed their lips as if by agreement.
"Fifteen, forty!"
To give up the service game.
Evangeline bit her lip.
Acknowledging the difference in skill did not make defeat any more pleasant. Especially if the opponent was a lowly person being pointed at by nobles.
Although Princess Anne Boleyn did not attend, members of the Royal Tennis Society, who were seated in the front row of the VIP seats, were watching her.
The thought of what would be said about her pathetic mistakes made her feel even worse. She became impatient.
I must win.
The court changed, and Olivia Blanchett was given the serve.
Evangeline, having sharpened her mind, glared at Olivia.
Olivia, who had been lightly bouncing the ball, snatched the ball that had bounced off the ground.
The blue eyes staring straight at her flashed like a beast in an instant. At that moment, the ball went up.
"Hat!"
With a short, intense shout, the ball flew unreservedly. The sound of a well-honed blade cutting through the air was heard.
"!"
Evangeline's wrist twisted as she returned the ball. The ball, which had hit the racket awkwardly, got caught in the center of the net and fell to the ground with a thud.
...N-no way.
"Fifteen, love!"
It was a truly monstrous speed. A fastball that surpassed Sara Pavlova.
Evangeline's wrist throbbed.
She now understood Sara Pavlova's defeat.
There must have been intervention from Lancelot Company. She had vaguely guessed so, but it wasn't.
It was skill.
Evangeline chewed her lower lip. But soon, she regained her relaxed smile.
The world was originally a place where tricks worked better than skill.
