The light was gruesomely bright.

Irene wished all the lights in the world would go out and be locked in darkness instead.

He must have returned…

The white-gloved ribbon covering the opened mouth fluttered.

I, I saw it…

The night of Catherine’s birthday party, the night Johan Leopold publicly announced the engagement.

Irene surrendered herself to Christian for the last time.

That night, destined to be stored in memories, the night that burned even more passionately, this man witnessed it.

Instantly, her legs lost strength. Irene slumped onto the burgundy-colored carpet.

It was dreadful.

Irene, whose entire body turned red, trembled with shame. Johan found the pitiful sight of the princess utterly pathetic.

“Tell me how far I should turn a blind eye.”

Quietly trying to overlook it.

Honestly, it wasn’t funny at all.

That day, it was Queen Katrina who called Johan, who was leaving the palace.

Expressions of gratitude for making a difficult decision for Londo, congratulations on the engagement, and the main point.

Shall we be skillful?

Financial support for dispatching troops to suppress the civil war that erupted in the colony.

In the end, Johan gave a positive answer and left the place exhausted.

It was when he was about to turn around the corner after passing through Queen’s Alcove.

The moment he saw a woman being praised by a lady who, like a quiet lady rarely seen in this era, praised her so much that her throat dried up.

It was the drawing-room where Olivia and the Crown Prince had their picture taken.

Olivia’s face overlapped with the woman moaning and groaning in confusion.

For a moment, it felt like blood was surging backward due to discomfort.

Son of a b**ch.

Johan, who turned coldly away from the woman shaking her shoulders, left the office.

In the light emanating through the green lampshade, his ashy eyes sank coldly.

A carriage was waiting in the Golden Avenue, illuminated by the splendid lights. Johan, who was about to step on the footboard, stopped moving.

The championship banners hung on every lamppost, swaying in the wind, blurred his view.

“Now… No, not now.”
“Now, please turn back the clock.”

Johan got on the carriage.

With the wheels rolling without hesitation, he began to run towards the Ritten Harbor.

Johan stared at the darkness outside the window, then closed his eyes slowly. He felt the pulse on his forehead.

Deep in the night, a solitary figure entered the Saint Vincent Cathedral.

Wearing a black cloak that reached the ankles, the figure walked silently on the moonlit floor, permeated with various colored stained glass.

Passing by large candelabras, the figure, adorned with a rose lace veil covering the face, shivered.

After a moment of surveying the surroundings, the figure stopped in front of the Confessional, the innermost part of the cathedral.

As the figure’s movement followed, the rose lace veil draped over the face trembled.

Finally, the door opened gently, and the figure disappeared.
The scene was illuminated in a vivid red glow, with only the Son of God hanging on the cross silently gazing down amid flickering candles.

“Have you come, Princess?”

A middle-aged man on the opposite side of the screen stood up and bowed.

At the sound of Anblin taking her seat, the man who had sat down pushed a piece of paper slowly through the gap under the screen.

“Please confirm.”

Anblin’s gaze slowly scanned the paper. The coldly shining eyes gradually folded, and soon fully closed.

It was this year’s draw for the Dublin World Tennis Championship.

As always, Anblin was seeded number 1, and her competitors were seeded number 2.

This time, the secret rule was observed again.

In addition, Anblin’s new demand for this year was to allocate top-ranked players to Olivia Blanchett’s seed.

In other words, it meant to put her in the 2nd seed. A so-called death group.

Specifically, it was to make her fight against Sara Pavlova, who had faced Anblin in the final last year, in the first round of the qualifying match.

Irene did not want to admit it, but Sara Pavlova’s skill overwhelmed Anblin.

Fortunately, the good thing was that she was more greedy for wealth than honor, and it was a fact that she would give up victory for a backdoor payment amounting to twice the prize money.

It was Anblin’s plan to defeat her completely in the first match and pull out the roots.

To ensure that the insignificant bastard does not stand side by side with her on the court.

Also, it was to prove that she participated in the tournament because of her well-built body, despite her pathetic skills.

Red lips were drawn up.

“Alright, proceed as planned.”

Anblin was quite pleased with the tournament bracket.

If you plan a life reversal story from a victim of misfortune to the hero of a winning myth, you will never succeed, Ed.

Don’t resent me.

In the dark confessional, pumpkin-colored eyes deepened.

I made you like this because it’s you.

Anblin raised her head and stared at the cross.

May God’s grace be with me.

In the black darkness, each one’s night was quietly passing.