“Could you stop the carriage for a moment?”

Olivia asked the coachman. They were about four blocks away from Golden Avenue.

“Why, young lady?”

Olivia’s eyes were calm in response to Anne’s question.

She knew it was rude, but no matter how she thought about it, it didn’t seem right to go to Golden Avenue today.

All her senses were ringing alarm bells.

“Anne. I have a favor to ask.”

Olivia paused for a moment, as if exercising caution, then parted her lips.

“…Tell them it’s a bit difficult for me to go there today. Can you relay that for me, Anne?”

“Of course.”

Anne had been feeling uneasy about it too.

It wouldn’t be good to accidentally run into the Duke, even by chance.

If such a situation were to occur, it was obvious that the gossipmongers would pounce like a pack of wolves, tearing apart the poor young lady.

“I’ll go instead.”

“Tell them I’m sorry.”

Olivia smiled faintly.

“Don’t worry, young lady.”

Anne got out.

Through the curtains, Olivia could see Anne scurrying into the bustling crowd.

When Anne had completely disappeared from view, Olivia let go of the curtain and turned her head slightly towards the side window.

“Please start moving now.”

The carriage began to move to change direction.

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The unexpected visitor who burst in was none other than Olivia’s maid.

“Oh, Miss Anne? What brings you here?”

Gerald asked, somewhat surprised.

“My lady asked me to convey her sincere apologies. She begs your forgiveness for the rudeness of unilaterally refusing today’s meeting-”

“Meeting?”

Edgar cut off the maid’s rambling words.

Edgar’s face, which had been smiling just moments ago, gradually hardened. He frowned slightly and stared at the maid.

The maid blinked her eyes in confusion and her lips quivered.

“She couldn’t come-”

“Where.”

“…”

The maid’s face turned progressively paler.

“He-here. This place… You invited her. My lord.”

A crease appeared between Edgar’s brows. Seeing this, Anne trembled. Something was wrong. Anne’s instincts were screaming so.

A red silence descended upon the office bathed in the setting sun.

“Why were you so certain it was me?”

Edgar murmured lowly, slowly running his hand through his neatly combed hair.

“That’s… be-because you sent a letter.”

The maid, now deathly pale, looked as if she was about to burst into tears at any moment.

“The contents.”

His eyes, sinking coldly, were chilling. His patience was rapidly reaching its limit.

“…My lady read it, so I-I don’t know.”

Her trembling lips quivered.

Edgar tugged at his tightening tie. He turned around slowly and placed both hands on the windowsill. He took a deep breath.

Gerald called out, “Young master,” but he seemed like a man who couldn’t hear anything.

The reddish sun streaming through the window illuminated the pale man’s face.

“Send someone to Marie. She might have returned.”

Edgar muttered quietly, gazing down at the Leopold Hotel with calm eyes.

He could see carriages carrying famous figures of the Litten social circle flocking like moths to the brightly lit Leopold Hotel.

The carriages carrying the beautiful princesses arrived around that time too. Camera flashes burst into brilliant light in the red city tinted by the setting sun.

Anblyn, who had been striking an elegant pose in front of the photographers, suddenly turned around.

Her dizzying legs paused halfway up the red-carpeted stairs.

“Princess Anblyn! Please look here just once!”

Anblyn slowly turned her head. Once again, silver flashes flickered from all directions.

Anblyn’s smile, as she gazed at the Lancaster Hotel, was as red as a rose, dyed by the intense sunset.

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The Brit Crown Prince’s boring congratulatory speech continued.

But the noblewomen gazing at Johan, who looked like a sculpture, had no time to be bored.

“Oh my.”

Exclamations of admiration flowed one after another from behind fans.

The Crown Prince concluded his speech by emphasizing and re-emphasizing the role of bridge between the two countries and the contribution to Brit’s economic development, then handed over the stage to Johan amidst thunderous applause.

Johan bowed politely and stood upright on the platform.

His sturdy physique in formal attire was striking.

Exclamations could be heard here and there from Brit noblewomen seeing him in person.

Johan started with an introduction expressing gratitude to Brit and concluded his brief speech with thanks to the distinguished guests.

The smile that Morris had emphasized until his mouth went dry was nowhere to be found.

For the commemorative photo, the Crown Prince and his wife, Johan and Princess Krantz stood in the center, with other key figures taking their positions around them. The photographer went behind the screen.

With a bang, white smoke dispersed.

Johan popped open a champagne bottle.

The golden liquid cascaded down from the top of the tower of champagne glasses, sparkling. Applause and cheers erupted.

It was the moment the party began.

“It’s magnificent.”

The ladies looking around the interior of the banquet hall couldn’t help but admire the dizzyingly high ceiling, the luxurious wood panels, the classical yet elegant columns connected to friezes covered in gold leaf.

It gave a mysterious feeling of being somewhere between an ancient temple and the cultural renaissance.

“You’re as beautiful as ever today, Your Highness.”

Under the brilliantly pouring chandelier light, compliments poured in for Anblyn, dressed in a subtle gold dress.

Anblyn responded to the enchanted gentlemen with a seductive smile.

Yet her gaze was searching for Edgar between the shoulders of the men.

“Princess.”

A maid approached and whispered something in her ear. Anblyn’s lips stretched into a long smile as she listened quietly.

Johan was standing next to Irene, engaging in meaningless conversation with Brit political figures.

Even in the midst of boredom, the occasional refined smile revealed the unique dignity of the Rondos royal family.

Irene too, with her neat face and concise expressions shown by occasional nods, naturally exuded an innate sense of superiority.

“Now this is fitting. It’s a pleasure to watch. Don’t you agree?”

Praise poured in for the perfect couple.

As the two, who were the owners of this hotel and no less than the protagonists of today, came out to the center of the hall, the ballroom gradually filled up.

The first dance was a waltz.

The two stood at a distance that was neither too close nor too far, and just their eye contact alone made for an excellent picture.

Johan lightly placed his hand on Irene’s back.

The gentle violin melody resonated through the grand hall. Johan led the princess.

Irene moved her feet as he led.

The man’s expression was blank. He looked like someone carrying out a task that needed to be done.

Nevertheless, his lead was gentle, and due to his refined features, even such an attitude seemed dignified.

Was he like this with his wife too? Did he have such an indifferent face?

If only Christian had such a cold face. Then she could have shaken him off.

Christian’s contours seemed to overlap on the man’s face.

She hated the man who, despite knowing her feelings, got engaged to another woman and now was sending her to his own cousin.

“Speak.”

Johan finally opened his mouth as the dance was nearing its end.

“Don’t you have something to say to me?”

Bored eyes fell on Irene. She didn’t avoid his gaze.

“I’ve decided to stay during the tennis tournament period.”

“Do as you wish.”

The string melody, which had already reached its climax, rippled.

“…I want to stay at the hotel.”

The man’s straight brow furrowed.

Although Catherine was nearby, Princess Anblyn, with whom she wasn’t particularly close, was uncomfortable.

The princess’s maids and friends, all wearing friendly smiles, were the same.

The underlying gaze that seemed to view her as a pitiful woman from a small country was extremely unpleasant, and sitting there pretending to be unbothered was tiring.

“I’ll have a room prepared.”

The night breeze blowing from the terrace was lukewarm. Perhaps that’s why the man’s voice felt even colder.

Perhaps because he looked so much like Christian, Irene’s heart ached a little.

The dance came to an end.

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Edgar strode up the red-carpeted stairs and crossed the Leopold Hotel lobby. The luxurious lighting stung his eyes.

‘She hasn’t returned yet.’

Olivia had disappeared.

His chest tightened. The cheerful music flowing throughout the hotel slid over his barely holding nerves.

As the doors to the grand banquet hall opened from both sides, the trapped music sound hit his eardrums like a massive wave.

His gaze pierced through it and landed on Anblyn, standing nobly beside a pillar on the outer edge of the hall.

As if to show off, the princess was standing there.

Their eyes met.

He was a man who caught the eye at a glance, no matter how far away. Edgar.

Anblyn tilted her champagne glass, admiring his rapidly approaching figure.

The party she had prepared hadn’t even begun yet, but she was already enjoying herself.

“Olivia. Where is she.”

His complexion, suppressing emotional turmoil, was chilly.

“We should at least greet each other. Shouldn’t we?”

Anblyn laughed, her amber eyes twinkling.

“I asked where she is.”

“Did that woman disappear or something?”

Anblyn asked nonchalantly, opening her eyes slightly wider. Then she burst into laughter.

“Your expression right now. Do you know how funny it is?”

So this man could be this amusing too. It was ridiculous how he was acting as if Olivia Blanchet was something precious to him.

“This doesn’t suit you.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Sincerity.”

Though the sound of his lofty pride cracking could be heard, Anblyn maintained her elegant smile to the end.

“Something you never had. So don’t pretend to be sincere.”

…Sincerity.

Edgar was dazed, as if he’d been hit on the back of the head. His gaze wandered in the air as if trying to grasp the meaning of this unfamiliar word.

A pawn to use and discard. It was a word that didn’t suit a woman who was nothing more, nothing less than a ticket seller.

Sincerity, he thought.

A snicker escaped him. Edgar muttered lowly as he dropped his gaze askew.

“…The day you touch even a fingertip.”

The woman deceiving him was pathetic.

“Your life ends too. Anne.”