Whether it was because of Grandmother or because of this man, Olivia felt confused. Foolishly.

Olivia lightly shook her head to shake off the man’s face.

She picked up a thin wine glass.

In the light penetrating the dark waves, her fingers looked red.

“What about your next opponent, Seymour?”

Elaine asked Russell Junior, looking at Olivia’s complexion, sensing some change in how she dealt with Edgar.

“Seymour? Well, he’s a player…”

Having taken a sip of wine, Russell Junior was already in a good mood.

His first disciple, Olivia, was honorable, proud, and too beautiful.

And above all, Edgar Lancaster Ranslotte was not here. So, he was feeling particularly triumphant after a long time.
“Pavlova isn’t a strong player like Yang, but her stamina is incredible. If a situation like today turns into deuce, it might become quite a close match. That’s what she said.”

Russell Junior’s verbose explanation began.

People might find it boring, but Olivia couldn’t help but keep looking at me with sparkling eyes.

If only those pure and affectionate eyes had lingered a bit more on me.

In Russell Junior’s mind, there was only that wish, until the damn doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.”

Olivia, who had just finished serving the crab dish to the guests, stood up in my place.

It seemed that additional wine ordered because it seemed insufficient had arrived.

As she left the dining room and walked through a short corridor, Mrs. Mari came out hastily from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Look. I’ll go. It was the first time I’ve had such a delicious crab dish in the world.”

Olivia smiled brightly, not forgetting to acknowledge the wife’s efforts.

A faint smile passed over Mrs. Mari’s stoic lips.

She bowed her head and hurriedly returned to the kitchen. In the meantime, the doorbell rang again.

“Yes. I’ll go.”

Olivia, who stood in front of the entrance with light steps, opened the door wide.

A gust of wind rushed in, and the sky-blue ribbon tied around the waist of her white muslin dress fluttered like a dance with the skirt hem.

“Who is it?”

Olivia stared blankly at the man. He laughed. The scent of roses wafted on the breeze that had come over the river.

“…How did you get here?”

“Just passing by.”

The man, who casually said he stopped by, smiled brightly, showing a large bouquet of flowers.

Behind the man standing with a long shadow, the streetlamp light fell on the Beichen River, shimmering orange, and a luxurious cruise ship was passing by.

Evangeline Seymour blinked her eyes, lost in the enchanting scenery she had never seen since birth.

Even Seymour Mansion, which was quite extravagant, couldn’t match this level of dignity.

Evangelin’s heart pounded as she looked around the botanical garden, which was said to be exclusive and not open to anyone.

The Seymour family, which became immensely wealthy after discovering a gold mine during her grandfather’s time, had plenty of gold nuggets, but they repeatedly failed to cross the threshold of high society without a title.

That’s why Evangelin started playing tennis. She wanted to belong to the upper-class gatherings.

Just like Dumblein Club for men, there was a tennis social circle for Evangelin’s peers, centered around Princess Anblin. A tennis social group centered around royal members among royals.

‘Finally, my efforts are being rewarded.’

She meticulously straightened her attire adorned for the occasion in front of the black-stained glass window.

As she checked for any flaws, the sound of the skirt rustling was heard.
Evangeline straightened her posture and neatly clasped her hands.

The chattering voices gradually approached, and soon Princess Anblin revealed her graceful figure.

“Oh my! You really look like a porcelain doll.”

When Evangeline faced the princess she had admired, she froze.

Yet, Evangeline seemed on the verge of tears.

“G- Greetings, Your Highness.”

Evangeline’s voice trembled miserably.

“Welcome. Mr. Seymour, please have a seat.”

Princess Anblin gracefully offered tea with a refined smile. Tensely, Evangeline only managed to gaze at the teacup, not daring to raise her head.

An unadorned white teacup reflected the silent silver moon that had fallen from the glass ceiling.

“I heard you haven’t joined any clubs yet. What do you think about our tennis club?”

“W- What? You mean the Royal Tennis Club?”

Evangeline’s hand, holding the teacup, trembled, making the tea inside ripple.

Being a daughter of a rejected merchant family was easily roastable.

Despite the kind offer, she felt like a dog wagging its tail, flat on its back.

“I believe Mr. Seymour has enough skill to join our club.”

“T- Thank you, Your Highness.”

Evangeline, overwhelmed with gratitude, didn’t know what to do.

“But it seems other members have slightly different opinions.”

Anblin wore a somewhat pitiful expression.

Evangeline, inexperienced in hiding emotions, revealed her distressed expression.

“What should I do, Your Highness?”

“How about proving your skills this time?”

Anblin, with a generous smile, tempted her with a seductive tone.

“I think it could work for Mr. Seymour. What do you say?”

Anblin’s pumpkin-colored eyes, urging not to hesitate in using any means, shone like starlight.