An Incomplete Divorce - Chapter 60

During the Dumblin Championship period, the entire massive city centered around the stadium was bustling with excitement.

Hotels held parties every night, department stores were busy selling souvenirs, and restaurants were occupied with capturing tourists’ tastes with special menus offered only this season.

It wasn’t just them. Journalists were just as busy as these people.

They had to run back and forth to Ritten Central Station and Ritten Port to cover athletes coming from various regions and countries entering, and also attend press conferences of strong championship contenders.

The number of journalists who came to cover showed the popularity of that athlete.

See how they’re doing it all on the same day.

Someone clicked their tongue at the sight of journalists filling up without any empty seats.

Olivia Blanchet, who had disappeared after her last appearance at the Rondos Consulate, held her first official press conference.

Coincidentally timed with Princess Anblyn’s press conference. This was a clear challenge and psychological warfare.

“Come on, move a bit more to the side.”

“You there with the hat. Be considerate and either bend your knees or move. Don’t ruin the angle.”

The Grand Ballroom of the Lancelot Hotel was more chaotic and noisy than ever, as if everyone had flocked here instead of the press room at the Brit Palace.

Overwhelmed by the fervor, Olivia rubbed her stiffened hands. She tried hard to steady her breathing.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Edgar flashed a grin. Even that charming smile was of no help now.

Facing those who had written the critical articles pouring out daily, her chest tightened again.

“If it’s difficult to answer, pass it to Russell Junior.”

Russell Junior, who was adjusting his outfit in front of the mirror, shrugged and said.

“Just trust me. Olivi… Ah, no, Miss Blanchet.”

They must have become close enough to casually call each other by first name after spending time together.

Edgar looked at Russell Junior and laughed silently. Fortunately, Russell Junior had enough sense to notice that much.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

Olivia took a deep breath.

“I’m… ready.”

Her wavering eyes finally became resolute.

“Alright.”

Edgar lightly placed his hand on Olivia’s shoulder.

“Shall we go?”

Olivia nodded.

The staff holding the golden handles of the massive reddish doors opened them simultaneously.

The murmuring sounds rushed in and then immediately fell silent as if a mouse had died.

Olivia, with her hand on Russell Junior’s arm, took her first step.

The moment Olivia, with straight shoulders and a composed expression, stepped into the conference hall, she tightly closed her eyes.

When intense camera flashes burst all at once, her vision went white.

The bang-like sounds reminiscent of fireworks hit her ears in succession. She was completely disoriented.

“Look over here, over here please.”

“Miss Blanchet! This way. This way too.”

Russell Junior’s voice flowed into her muffled ears.

“Are you alright?”

Russell Junior asked, slightly tilting his head. Olivia, who had felt momentarily dizzy, slowly opened her eyes.

After blinking a few times, her vision gradually became clear.

“Yes. Let’s go now.”

Olivia sharpened her focus to avoid showing signs of nervousness. She didn’t forget to keep a smile on her lips.

She walked gracefully with an unwavering posture to the front of the platform.

Russell Junior pulled out the chair for Olivia, and after she sat down, he took a seat beside her. Soon, the hall fell quiet.

Olivia, who had been looking down at the table covered with deep purple Bordeaux cloth, slowly raised her gaze.

Where and how should they bite? The fierce energy was palpable.

Unfriendly eyes were blazing as if ready to pounce at any moment.

Taking a deep breath, Olivia placed her lace-gloved hands on the table and interlocked her fingers.

Reading the signal that she was ready, Russell Junior opened the proceedings.

“Thank you all for coming despite your busy schedules. This year, I greet you as the coach of Olivia Blanchet, not as a player. As you all know, I’m Russell Junior Dixon. Is there anyone who doesn’t know? Hahaha. My becoming Miss Blanchet’s coach was, well… fate. How it all started was…”

Goodness, he talks too much.

No one was interested at all. The journalists’ faces were contorting.

What should be done about this noble young master with only a decent physique, who was taking up time to ask the actually curious Olivia questions.

That’s when it happened.

“Michael Dorsett from The Sun Daily.”

One journalist who abruptly stood up cut off Russell Junior’s long-winded speech in an instant.

It was an atrocious act that a commoner journalist wouldn’t dare attempt, but he too was a noble.

His usually annoying swagger was unusually welcome today.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Blanchet.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dorsett.”

Olivia, sitting with her back straight, greeted him.

Her heart was pounding, but keeping a calm smile was as difficult as holding back a sneeze.

“You’re making your debut in a major tournament, do you think you’re qualified enough?”

The Sun.

It was the newspaper that had called Olivia a brazen hussy cozying up to her ex-husband’s rival.

It was also one of the places that raised groundless suspicions about her earning her entry qualification through physical means, and the one that most maliciously distorted and fabricated the truth.

“I will show you through the results of this tournament.”

Olivia’s gaze became as firm as a frozen blue lake.

“Isn’t that overconfident?”

Michael Dorsett continued his question with an overt sneer.

“Your first opponent is Miss Sara Pavlova. Are you confident you can win?”

Olivia did not avoid his gaze filled with contempt and disregard. Rather, she showed an even more relaxed expression.

“It means I will do my best.”

“What is your relationship with Earl Lancelot?”

“…”

It was a rude question.

Michael Dorsett stared directly at the perplexed Olivia, pulling his lips back viciously.

The journalists who had been cheering for Dorsett for scratching their itch now turned their attention to Olivia.

Unfamiliarly, there was a chill flickering in her eyes.

The Grand Ballroom was so heated with the fervor of reporting that even the air felt stifling.

“I mentioned that we’re not taking questions related to personal matters. Either change your question or I’ll give the opportunity to someone else-”

“I asked Miss Blanchet.”

Russell Junior glared at Michael Dorsett, who cut off his words sharply, and gritted his teeth.

Angered by the rudeness, he shook his legs restlessly under the platform.

Just wait till I meet you in private.

Edgar’s gaze, as he leaned askew against the doorframe with his arms crossed, shifted to Olivia.

The graceful face of the woman, whose thoughts were unreadable, remained calm as she kept her eyes on the journalist.

What are you thinking in that small head of yours?

When I considered you a pawn to use and discard, what did you think of me?

Edgar’s shadowed eyes, aimlessly watching the woman, darkened like an abyss.

Olivia decided not to run away. She had done nothing wrong.

“If I answer, will you write it down properly?”

Olivia’s expression as she looked directly at the journalist was surprisingly calm.

She had feared people’s eyes.

Knowing how they looked at her, she had always hidden, but she decided not to do so anymore.

“Or will you write the article you want regardless of my answer?”

Michael Dorsett’s face looked like he had been hit hard.

The woman, who was expected to be blushing furiously and trembling with shame, showed an unexpectedly dignified attitude.

That appearance was even somewhat elegant.

Olivia’s calm silence that followed for a while was effective.

The vulgar questions they had prepared, intending to link her to the necklace incident and Princess Anblyn, were instantly blocked.

“I occasionally played tennis while staying at the Lancelot Hotel. Mr. Lancelot, who saw my skills then, made an offer. He and I have only met a few times as a sponsor representative and a contracted player.”

Olivia even showed the composure to ask the journalist with a smile.

“The truth is too boring, isn’t it? Do you have any more questions, Mr. Dorsett?”

“…No. …Thank you for your answer.”

“I’m very much looking forward to tomorrow’s article in The Sun.”

Olivia slowly looked around the audience, showing expectation.

“Is there anyone curious about my playing style?”

Olivia kindly asked the journalists who were staring at the platform with dumb expressions.

“I could tell you more interesting stories about the techniques I use.”

Olivia’s smile was brilliant, enhanced by the light from the grand ballroom’s magnificent chandelier.

It wasn’t the answer he expected, but Edgar silently smiled.

She was playing the journalists in the palm of her hand, a far cry from her earlier appearance of being frozen pale as if blood wasn’t flowing.

Doing so well, yet still making a fuss.

Edgar’s gaze, having chuckled, moved from her composed face, past her neatly folded hands, along the hem of her dark blue skirt, down to her slender ankles.

The ribbon on her glossy cream-colored satin shoes was trembling slightly.

Kuk, Edgar covered his mouth with his hand, lowering his head to suppress the laughter that was about to burst out.

Olivia desperately wished for this time to pass quickly.

Olivia Blanchet…

Sara Pavlova was watching her from the very back of the conference hall, leaning crookedly against the wall.

True to her nickname “Ice Flame,” her calmly settled eyes quietly blazed.

And at that moment, Sara Pavlova also entered Olivia’s field of vision.

The two women’s gazes collided in mid-air.

Sara pulled up one corner of her mouth into a long smile.

The first female player sponsored by the Lancelot family, huh.

We’ll see tomorrow whether that skill is from the bedroom or from the court.

Sara Pavlova straightened her back from the wall and turned around.

Her high-tied silver hair strands sparkled like transparent ice under the light of the magnificent chandelier.

And the next day, fireworks announcing the opening of the Dumblin Championship echoed across the Ritten sky.