Russell Junior’s voice was filled with confidence.

“Oh dear, oh dear. I haven’t even offered a seat to the lady. How rude of me.”

“No. This doesn’t seem like a place I should intrude. I just wanted to express my gratitude today.”

“I see. Well then. If you ever need help, feel free to come find me.”

This was merely a formal greeting. One of those meaningless phrases often uttered in human relationships, as common as “Let’s have a meal sometime.”

However, it didn’t seem that way to the woman.

“Really? Is it really alright, Mr. Dixon?”

“…”

The large eyes blinking with dense eyelashes were innocent. The sun at its zenith shone within them.

Faced with such noble eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say that what he had just said was nonsense.

“Ah, well. I’m not one to go back on my word…”

Russell Junior suddenly felt uneasy.

Meanwhile, an employee brought over what had been ordered. A bottle of whiskey and a small, elongated glass were placed in front of Russell Junior.

He filled the glass as if avoiding the woman’s gaze.

“I wonder if I could ask you for a favor…”

The woman trailed off.

It didn’t feel like a good sign.

What kind of enormous favor is she trying to ask, beating around the bush like this?

With a slightly tense hand lifting the glass, he still tried to act nonchalant as he said,

“Don’t hesitate, just tell me. Miss Blanchet.”

He smiled generously at the woman and emptied the glass in one gulp. While doing so, he rolled his eyes slightly to look up at her.

“Please become my coach.”

The whiskey that was burning hot down his esophagus got stuck in his throat at that moment.

“Kuhp…”

C-coach?

At this bolt from the blue, Russell Junior ended up spitting out the whiskey.

The view outside Greathil had changed from a tender light green to deep verdure.

As the temperature gradually rose, showing signs of early summer, Johan Leopold’s mood felt considerably cooler as he stood in front of the mirror.

He was originally the type to exude such an aura, but today he was especially chilly.

Johan was in formal attire for the reception of Princess Tanesia Irene Krantz of Leiden who was visiting.

“And.”

Morris’s hand, which had been turning a page in his notebook, stopped at the low voice.

“The actual owner of the townhouse where you currently reside is…”

As Morris couldn’t continue his words, Johan said while skillfully inserting the end of his tie into the loop,

“Young Edgar.”

A monotone voice flowed out between sensual lips tinged with red.

“That is correct.”

A man receiving a report about his ex-wife before going to meet his fiancée. Expressing condolences for the future Duchess Leopold, Morris moved on to today’s schedule.

“The special train from Krantz-”

“Did Olivia play tennis?”

Johan asked as if talking to himself, turning towards the butler with his eyes closed tight.

The butler who had been holding the formal attire approached as if he had been waiting, carefully dressing Johan in a black silk jacket lined with red.

“Have you seen it?”

Johan stared at the front window with narrowly opened eyes.

The summer that had arrived without notice felt like an unwelcome guest. It was because his divorced wife who had left in early spring was still disturbing his mood.

“Well…”

Morris tilted his head. There was no tennis court in Greathil, so how could he have seen it?

“It’s a bit strange.”

Morris’s gaze slid to the newspaper spread out on the table.

“Brittan’s Solid Sanctuary, Divorced Woman of Londos, Olivia Blanchet Breaks It”

It was surprising enough that the duchess who had been cooped up in her room was a skilled tennis player, but the bigger problem was the photo brazenly printed.

Of all things, it had to be a wedding photo.

Morris was anxious that the Grand Duchess of Krantz might see it. The Grand Duchess was scheduled to arrive at Leiden Central Station at 3 PM.

If Johan had wanted to, he could have at least collected the newspapers distributed in the city before the princess arrived. But he didn’t care.

“You.”

“I haven’t.”

The butler stated as he neatly attached the last emblem to Johan’s chest.

Taking a step back, the butler examined and adjusted Johan’s appearance.

Sending a glance indicating it was done, the butler handed over the ceremonial gloves. Johan, glancing at the mirror with indifferent eyes, commanded while buttoning the gloves.

“Find out.”

Johan crossed the dressing room with wide strides.

Olivia and tennis.

There couldn’t be a more discordant combination.

The first time should have been with a woman named Elaine at the Lancelot Hotel. If it was the Olivia Blanchet he knew, that’s how it should have been.

The Dublin Tennis Championship with only about two months of practice.

Vile bastard.

Johan muttered a curse under his breath.

There was no doubt that both Edgar and he were equally bastards, but at least he wasn’t vile.

He wasn’t the kind of scoundrel who would use a broken woman with nowhere to lean on in this way.

Otherwise, there would be no reason to put a woman who had never properly held a racket before at the forefront to stir up sensational public opinion.

Johan, who had been descending the central staircase, stopped and slowly turned around. The empty white wall came into view.

His ash-colored eyes deepened as he stared at the place where his and Olivia’s portraits had once hung.

It was none of his business who Edgar used to recover the massive investment he had poured into winning the bid for the Dublin stadium.

It wasn’t something for him to care about, just like when he had drawn in Princess Anblyn of Brittan.

But.

If the subject was Olivia.

A gentle ripple stirred in the calm eyes whose emotions were unreadable.

The flags of all nations decorating the top of the station fluttered in the gentle breeze.

The platform and station square were bustling with crowds welcoming Princess Krantz, who was officially visiting the Kingdom of Londos.

Morris was not a little surprised by the greater number of well-wishers and reporters than when the princess of Azent had visited to get engaged to Crown Prince Christian.

It seemed to be the result of the waves caused by Olivia Blanchet.

“There, there she comes.”

The special train with a blue-green exterior adorned with gold decorations was slowly reducing speed as it entered Leiden Central Station.

The gazes of the onlookers who had gathered to see the princess all focused on one point at once and began to murmur.

“Oh my, how unfortunate. To be a second wife at such a tender age.”

Someone clicked their tongue and grumbled.

“What’s so unfortunate about it? It’s our duke who was unfortunate to have been caught by that temptress. He’s finally found his true match. Instead of congratulating, is that what you should be saying? Someone listening might think she’s marrying an old man past sixty.”

“Stop it, you all. They might hear.”

A woman who glanced at Johan standing on the red carpet lowered her voice and said.

“As the old saying goes, there’s nothing to worry about for those in high places. They marry and divorce because it’s mutually beneficial. Worrying about others…”

I can hear everything. I can hear it all.

Morris watched Johan’s reaction.

There was no way to block his ears, so he couldn’t help but hear what was being said.

Strangely, among the noise created by the numerous crowds, the cursing words particularly stuck in his ears.

Morris looked at Johan with eyes full of respect. How many people could remain so peaceful while hearing gossip about themselves?

He stood with his hands behind his back, maintaining an upright posture without any particular change in expression.

His arrogant eyes with a sharp edge and calm face remained fixed straight ahead.

Johan lightly shook his wrist and then used his fingertips to roll up his cuff. The silver wristwatch indicated 4:10.

Out of boredom, Johan closed his eyes for a moment.

‘…Did, did you say you’re marrying me?’
‘Why. Are you disappointed it’s not the crown prince?’

Crazy bastard.

Johan opened his eyes and cursed, recalling the day he first met Olivia.

It was simultaneous with the opening of the door to the special compartment decorated with the coat of arms of the Grand Duchy of Krantz.

Beyond the window of the carriage circling the central fountain square, sparkling foam scattered in various colors.

Johan languidly observed the cityscape from inside the swaying carriage.

Even the princess, who had been smiling gracefully on the platform of Leiden Central Station, was silent in a place where the crowd and reporters had disappeared.

Neither of them had the attitude of facing a fiancé.

For Johan, who wanted to avoid unnecessary battles of attrition, this silence was to his liking.

The woman wearing a shimmering ash-gray silk dress exuded the dignity befitting a princess of a nation.

The purple sash ribbon medal crossing her chest emitted a golden radiance in the sunlight streaming through the carriage window.

Satisfaction from the sense of kinship as royalty. A relationship where they knew each other’s duties and could maintain their respective roles.

In that respect, the woman’s status was perfect, and her attitude was seasoned, making her flawless for the position of a wife.

Johan, who had been resting his elbow on the window frame and pressing his long fingers against his temple, slightly lowered his wrist.

After glancing at the watch on his wrist with large knuckles, Johan again threw his gaze out the window.

The carriage had already left the area dense with luxury shops and hotels and was now crossing the Goddess Bridge, famous for its delicate sculptural decorations.

As the sun was setting, the walkways on both sides of the bridge were crowded with people strolling to see the Daphne River tinged with rose color.

Among them, in front of the golden statue of the goddess standing tall in the center of the bridge railing, there was a commotion of lovers waiting their turn to kiss.

They were devotees of Arke, the goddess who bestowed eternal love.

‘There’s something I want to do.’
‘Tell me.’

The image of nineteen-year-old Olivia fiddling with her clasped hands as if shy came to mind. Johan gave up resisting and slowly closed his eyes.

‘…A kiss. I want a kiss.’
‘…’

Inside the carriage passing over this bridge, his wife had extended her slender fingers, lowering her flushed face.

‘There.’

The moment he had sighed at her looking at him with an innocent expression was just after the wedding ceremony, on the way back to Greathil.

‘It’s all nonsense, Olivia. Say something else.’

How tiresome.

As if pushing away the sticky reminiscence, Johan opened his eyes.

Johan’s eyes, which had been lightly rubbing his eyes with gloved fingertips due to fatigue from the pathetic display, suddenly narrowed.