Chapter 91
- How Much Do You Want
2023.12.30.
The night of the closing ceremony was deepening.
The office, untouched by the noise of the party in full swing in the banquet hall, was laden with a heavy silence like darkness.
As the Marquess's silence grew longer, the increasingly anxious reporter changed his expression and began to threaten.
"So, if you help me this time, I promise you'll never see me again. Not in front of the Marquess, or anyone else."
His eyes, consumed by greed, gleamed dully.
"Or in front of Blanchett."
The man emphasized the last word. A greasy smile flickered across his oily face.
Gerald could confidently say that if he gave him money again, he would lose it all gambling and cause another incident in less than a week.
What wouldn't a guy who dared to break into the hotel do?
"Of course, I could go to Blanchett, but I'm not a gentleman who wants to make a lady cry. I'm surprisingly weak to ladies' tears. And I assure you, Blanchett will be very interested in my story. If that happens, the relationship between the two of you will be—."
Edgar chuckled.
He had overlooked the drawbacks of a public relationship.
Edgar took a puff of his cigarette and poured whiskey into the thick glass in front of him.
He exhaled the smoke he had held in his mouth for a long time and even filled the reporter's glass.
As the finest liquor overflowed, the reporter smacked his lips like a drunkard. Seeing the lavish treatment, it seemed he would get the money this time as well.
Edgar silently put down the bottle and tilted his chin.
Gerald opened the lid of a medicine bottle from his pocket and poured it straight into the glass. The reporter paused.
"Drink."
Edgar smiled, pulling at his lips. The man stared intently at the glass of liquor with an unidentified additive, then declined.
"I'm fine."
"Why? Are you afraid you'll die?"
His eyes, devoid of laughter, shone like blades. The man seemed to sober up instantly. Then, his legs began to tremble.
"Did you come to me without even that much guts?"
"……."
Sweat gathered on the palm of his hand resting on his thigh.
"If you come at me like this, I'll go straight to Blanchett……."
"Didn't you think you'd die before that?"
Edgar crossed his long legs and stared at the man with an indifferent gaze.
"The reason you're still alive is because I can do whatever I want with you at any time."
"……."
"I judged that you were at least a man who knew shame."
The man's face turned pale. Only then did he clearly realize who he dared to threaten and where he had crawled to on his own two feet.
"How much do you want?"
Edgar asked with a smile.
"Ah, no."
"I'll believe you since you say it's the last time. Ah! And don't go to Bigfoot. There are more swindlers there than gamblers."
The man froze. Bigfoot was an ordinary-looking bar, but it was also an illegal gambling den he frequented.
Moreover, it was where he had lost all his fortune today. That meant he had been under surveillance the whole time.
The clear warning made his legs tremble, and he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.
Edgar gestured to Gerald. Gerald took a box of gold bars from the office safe and placed it on the table.
The reporter opened the black ebony lid. Five golden bars shone heavily in the light.
"Go now."
The man's mind became complicated. He couldn't understand the Marquess's true intentions.
Was it really okay to take the gold bars in front of him and leave, or was he testing him?
He wondered if he would be sent to the afterlife with a scream if he rashly took them. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.
"Ah, no. I think I was drunk and lost my reason for a moment. Committing such a discourtesy by visiting you so suddenly……."
"Take it. And disappear quietly. Is it difficult?"
"Ah, no. Of course not."
The reporter waved his hands, fumbled with the box of gold bars, tucked it under his arm, and stood up.
"Thank you."
He bowed unsteadily and hurried away. Edgar calmly watched him go. He threw the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and said.
"Out of her sight. Clean it up."
"Understood."
His eyes, filled with fatigue, were chilling.
\\
Olivia sat quietly, waiting for Edgar. His absence felt immense.
Something had clearly been going on lately. She decided to ask him when he returned. She wanted to help if there was anything she could do.
As the darkness deepened, the lights in the banquet hall became brighter and more dazzling. Olivia's gaze wandered through the glittering hall, filled with lively dance music and the laughter of people.
"Hello, Blanchett."
Olivia, who had been silently staring in the direction Edgar had disappeared, turned her head. Elegantly dressed noblewomen stood demurely.
"Hello."
Olivia smiled faintly and greeted them.
"It's such an honor to meet you like this. Congratulations on your victory."
"Thank you. Please, sit down."
By now, Olivia was a little tired. The repetitive pleasantries and superficial conversations.
"I've always thought you were so beautiful. Is today's outfit by Madam Lauren?"
"Yes."
Olivia nodded briefly.
They praised everything from the Tiara shining on her dark chestnut hair to the jewels on the ribbons adorning her shoes, and then glanced at Olivia's ring finger.
Rumors of a Blue Diamond Ring had been rampant, but the real thing was not yet on her hand.
"Our Laurent family has been in the perfume business for generations. The roses grown on our estate are the finest in the Kingdom of Brit. I think their sensual scent goes so well with Blanchett's image. I brought it as a gift, but I don't know if you'll like it."
Olivia inadvertently accepted the small box that was suddenly thrust in front of her.
It was a product from a company she had already sent a rejection letter to.
"My husband is starting a new business related to tennis equipment. So, I was wondering if Blanchett would be the model for our products. Hohoho."
The woman smiled sweetly from behind her fan and began to explain the equipment.
"Our family is in the wine business."
Olivia tried not to show any signs of distress and gave a faint smile. If the postal service had been working properly, they would have received her rejection letter.
"Thank you, but I."
Just as she was about to open her lips to politely refuse without offending anyone, Olivia's eyes widened.
Beyond the terrace window, someone entering the garden entrance, illuminated by the colorful Stained glass lamp, came into view.
"……."
As Olivia's expression hardened, the flustered noblewomen stammered.
"We certainly don't mean to put any pressure on you. We're just saying this because we hope you'll reconsider. Please don't be offended."
"Yes, that's right. We just want to have a friendship-based exchange with Blanchett. I hope there are no misunderstandings."
"Ah! No, it's just that I thought I saw someone I knew."
Olivia looked at them with a bewildered expression.
"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to say hello for a moment. Would it be okay if I went?"
"Of course, of course. Take your time. The party is just getting started."
The noblewomen smiled readily and let Olivia go. Olivia stood up and crossed the hall.
\\
If there are lucky days, there are also unlucky days.
Unfortunately for Edgar, today seemed to be one of those days.
For some reason, he felt that things were constantly going wrong today.
No, it wasn't just a feeling, it was actually happening. So, this woman, Sara Pavlova, was in front of him.
Edgar chuckled.
"I asked you why you showed up."
The woman was reckless.
"Could you light me?"
Sara Pavlova, who took a cigarette from a thin silver case and put it in her mouth, looked at Edgar boldly.
Edgar fixed his gaze on her and took out a matchbox from his inside pocket. With a snap, a flame ignited.
"It's a party for the Dumblin Championship participants. Is there a problem? Or is a player who was eliminated in the first round not qualified to be invited?"
Sara Pavlova blew out smoke and sneered openly.
He had sent the scheming reporter away, left the office, and was heading to the banquet hall.
The elevator doors opened on the first floor, and the manager, who seemed to have been waiting for him, handed him a note.
「I'll be waiting in the pergola. Sara Pavlova」
Clouds were gathering in the clear night sky. As the moonlight disappeared, the colors emitted by the Stained glass lamp became clearer.
Edgar roughly furrowed the space between his eyebrows, where a headache was coming on, and asked the woman.
"What do you want from me?"
He would rather threaten than be threatened. Nevertheless, he endured the unpleasantness.
Everything was his own fault, and it was something that should not reach Olivia's ears.
"I want Lancelot Company to sponsor me in next year's competition."
Sara Pavlova said, raising her red-painted lips.
"Simple, right?"
In front of the Marquess who had become weak, she had nothing to fear. Sara Pavlova leaned against the marble pillar, crossed her arms, and stared at the man.
Edgar tilted his head slightly to relieve the stiff muscles in his neck.
Sara Pavlova.
A chuckle escaped through his lips.
He rubbed his temples with oily fingers, groped inside his jacket for a cigarette, and put it in his mouth.
With a snap, a second flame flared up. He took a deep breath of the cigarette smoke and lowered his gaze. Sara Pavlova's eyes met his.
"Tiresome."
She was as shameless as the reporter.
\*
She definitely went this way.
Olivia moved carefully so that the slight pain in her instep would not worsen.
The garden of the Lancelot Hotel was large, and her pace was slow. As a result, she missed Sara Pavlova.
Olivia, who wanted to greet her, looked around carefully once more.
