Chapter 77
Chapter 77. Olivia is
2023.12.16.
Hans opened the door of the Rothschild Club with a bewildered expression.
As he opened the heavy door and stepped inside, a new world unfolded before him.
The red shield, the symbol of the gentlemen's club, hung on the front of the lobby, its chandelier lights piercing his eyes.
"This way, please."
Following the staff's guidance, Hans stepped onto the red carpet of the elegantly curved central staircase.
'An anonymous informant is waiting for you at the Rothschild Club.'
'Me?'
'Yes, you. Rothschild, what kind of magic did you work, Hans?'
His colleague was very envious. Hans was simply dumbfounded.
The anonymous informant had sent a messenger boy to convey his intentions.
Hans had no idea who it was or what it was about.
He was intimidated by the club's lavish interior, which was more suited to a prestigious daily newspaper reporter than a weekly magazine reporter who dealt with third-rate gossip.
The staff stopped in front of the innermost door on the second floor and knocked. Hans, who was out of breath from hauling his large frame up the stairs, gasped.
Before permission to enter was given, the staff opened the door and stepped aside.
"Please go in."
"......"
Still breathing heavily, Hans stared beyond the open door. The interior, hidden by a mahogany partition, was not visible.
It was suspicious. But for a scoop. And if it meant he could escape the dreaded magazine.
After a brief hesitation, Hans stepped inside. The door closed quietly behind him.
"Thank you for your time."
"......"
Hans was speechless. The anonymous informant was a woman dressed as a man. But the more surprising fact was.
"Miss Cecil Royce?"
It was her status as Princess Anne Boleyn's secretary.
"Shall we have a drink first?"
The princess's secretary filled an empty glass. The scent of whiskey filled the club room.
Hans wiped the sweat from his forehead and took the glass. Thirsty, he gulped down the iced drink like water.
Just as his curiosity reached its peak as to what this suspicious disguise was all about and why this woman wanted to meet him, the woman broke the silence.
"The Princess told me to tell you that she is always impressed by your insightful and sincere articles."
The woman smiled, her meticulously glued-on mustache awkwardly pulled up.
"The Princess reads my articles......"
Does she even read such cheap weekly magazines? Hans was momentarily moved and his eyes welled up with tears.
He was a fervent follower of Princess Anne Boleyn.
"She even keeps them in a scrapbook."
Joy spread through Hans's chest like a tingling pain.
The thought of the Princess caressing his articles with her fair fingertips made his heart flutter.
"We have requested this meeting to ask you for an interview with the winner."
"With me?"
His heart began to pound as if it would burst.
"There are many reporters in this country, but I can assure you that no one knows the Princess as intimately as you do, Hans. Of course, the Princess feels the same way."
It was unbelievable.
The most noble Princess in Britz granting an exclusive interview to an insignificant weekly magazine reporter.
If the Princess was of a pure and gentle nature.
Hans thought that it was possible if the Princess valued ability and looked at the heart rather than judging people by their appearance.
That was why Hans revered Princess Anne Boleyn.
"Th-thank you. Just leave it to me. I will write the best article."
"Of course, I believe you will. To do so, the Princess must win......"
Cecil trailed off.
With the finals just a day away, Marquis Lancelot's security had become tighter.
No one was allowed near Olivia except for a select few.
Even the water she drank was thoroughly checked for safety.
But no matter how strong the fortress, is there no room for a needle to enter?
The needle that Cecil found was Hans.
"If that's the case, don't worry."
A strange light began to flicker in Hans's moist eyes. An exclusive interview with the Princess, a glorious opportunity that would never come again in his lifetime.
He would not tolerate anything that stood in his way.
\\
Olivia soared through the sunlight. Bang! Soon after, the crisp sound of the racket echoed cheerfully.
Edgar stopped by the fence and watched her.
Service ace. Russell Junior couldn't even touch the powerfully driven ball and let it go.
The corners of Edgar's lips turned up. Olivia was showing her best condition right now. That was why he was looking forward to tomorrow's game.
Edgar took a step without hesitation. The hand he had thrust into his pocket began to unbutton his jacket.
Edgar, who had draped his dark navy blue jacket over the bench, soon pulled at his tie.
"Edgar."
White streaks of light fell over the woman's face as she finally noticed Edgar and smiled brightly.
Edgar approached, neatly folding up the sleeves of his shirt.
"Is the game over?"
"Unfortunately, I lost. But I was expecting it."
Edgar was on his way back from watching the men's singles semi-final held at the center court. He was there to fulfill his duties as the representative of the organizer and to support his friend.
"I think your friend needs some comfort."
"I left the comfort to his lover. It'll be better than my comfort anyway. Are you going to keep practicing?"
"I rented it until 12 o'clock."
"Then spend the rest of the time with me."
Edgar snatched Russell Junior's racket, who was standing there awkwardly. Edgar twirled the racket in his hand and said.
"It's boring to just do it. One set. Wanna bet?"
"Aren't you going to regret it?"
Olivia tilted her head slightly and raised the end of her eyebrow playfully.
You're going to lose again? Her eyes, almost certain, were like a tomboyish young lady. Edgar couldn't help but laugh.
It wasn't an absurd certainty. Because he was going to lose anyway. It was impossible to concentrate on the ball with Olivia running across the green grass in front of him.
Olivia untied her sky-blue hair tie.
A warm breeze blew slowly, gently sweeping through her brown hair and shaking the hair tie between her lips.
The sunlight flowing along her slightly tilted neck was clear.
"Shall we start?"
Her eyes, sparkling with competitive spirit, were looking up at Edgar.
Her high ponytail fluttered behind her face. Edgar chuckled as he already found himself helpless.
The green ball went up into the blue sky. With a bang, the ball flew.
It was a fastball worthy of Olivia Blanchett, who was more sincere than anyone else in the game.
Bang! As if in response, Edgar slammed the ball down. The ball headed towards Olivia, piercing through the hot sunlight.
The predator, having identified the landing point, began to sprint. The most elegant predator in the world kicked off the ground and leaped. A thrill ran through him.
If only it could be like this tomorrow.
The ball is coming.
Edgar, who had been standing there blankly, belatedly began to run.
\\
The sky after the storm had passed was as clear as a lie.
The curtains billowed slowly in the sea breeze, which was salty, through the window that had been opened for ventilation.
It was a peaceful breeze, the opposite of the fierce storm that had raged last night.
He was lucky.
That was all he could say.
When Maurice, who had briefly lost consciousness from the impact of the overturned Carriage, regained his senses, he was still inside the wrecked Carriage.
Thick raindrops were pouring mercilessly through the window where the glass had been shattered.
His joy at not being dead was short-lived, and he could hear a faint breath, as if it were about to be cut off, in a situation where he could not move an inch as if he were being crushed by a heavy object.
Maurice immediately realized that the object pressing down on him was Yohan.
He groped around with his hands for the wet and sticky substance that was flowing from his head and touching his cheek.
'Blood, blood......?'
Surprised, Maurice carefully pushed Yohan, who was holding him tightly, to the side and shouted.
'Director! Wake up! Director!!!'
The memory of that moment made Maurice's heart sink once again.
What was going on?
Maurice let out a trembling sigh.
As he stared blankly down at Yohan lying on the bed, the door of the quiet hospital room opened and the doctor entered with a nurse.
Seeing him approaching, adjusting the collar of his white coat as if he had come straight to work, Maurice rose from his seat.
The doctor, who had been abruptly summoned at dawn to treat Yohan, had been watching his condition and had just arrived at the hospital after briefly stopping by his house to change his clothes.
"Why isn't he waking up?"
The doctor, who had been examining Yohan's condition, raised his eyes to look at Maurice.
Compared to the Duke, who had a fractured right arm and a laceration on his head, the aide, who only had a light scratch on his face, was in good condition. Wasn't it usually the opposite?
"Don't worry too much, just wait."
The nurse took his temperature with a thermometer. It had gone down a lot since he was first brought in, but it was still slightly high.
"Isn't he in danger?"
The doctor reassured Maurice that it wasn't anything to worry about and left the room.
Maurice slumped back into his chair.
The light filtering through the thin curtains fell on Yohan's face, which was lying quietly on the bed.
The image of Yohan holding him overlapped with it. His eyes turned red.
Damn it, why did you save me? What are you going to do with a man who's been touched?
"Open your eyes, okay?"
Maurice's voice was trembling.
He was terrified that Yohan would not open his eyes, as if he had fallen into a deep sleep as if he were catching up on missed sleep.
"Wake up. You have to wake up and go see the game. Okay? Director!"
Maurice knew that he had a cold heart and had grown into an adult, but that his essence was good.
That was why he had been grumbling and following Yohan around since he was a child.
As a child, he was the only person who treated him the same way he treated the Crown Prince.
That was why he had secretly pledged his loyalty.
Maurice carefully took Yohan's hand. His hand, as cold as ice, felt as if it did not belong to a living person.
He warmed his hand with his own body temperature and soon began to sob.
While Maurice was holding Yohan's hand and burying his head on the edge of the bed, his shoulders heaving, Yohan's eyelids twitched slightly.
Then, his brow slowly narrowed. The light seeping through the slightly lifted eyelids was very intense.
Yohan, who had been frowning, slowly opened his eyes.
"......Don't fall."
A metallic voice cracked weakly.
"D-Director???"
Surprised, Maurice raised his head. His face, smeared with tears and snot, was a sight to behold.
"Oh! God! Do you know how scared I was that you were going to die like this?"
"Shut up."
Yohan frowned. The pain that started in his head and right shoulder spread sharply throughout his body.
Even the bright rays of light that streamed in pierced his head like sharp needles, and the sound of his voice flew in and pierced him like arrows.
"Ah, yes. I'm sorry. I was too excited. Just stay here for a moment. I'll go get Dr. Biden."
Maurice, who had jumped up, was about to turn around when his wrist was grabbed.
Yohan, who had closed his eyes at the sunlight that streamed in whenever the curtain billowed in the wind, slowly opened his eyes and asked.
"......Olivia?"
