“Just a pretty face, that’s all.”

The ladies whispered behind their fluttering fans. Amidst the critical voices, a clear, sharp sound rang out.

“Thirty, love!”

Olivia conceded another point.

“Haah……”

Olivia wiped her forehead with her forearm, breathing heavily.

She couldn’t concentrate. Her eyes kept meeting those of Princess Krantz.

As if reproaching her for that day’s events, a cold gaze flew and pierced her. Each time, the strength in her hand gripping the racket faltered.

Nothing had happened, though.

Perhaps Johan hadn’t explained?

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Olivia’s fault either.

She was the victim and had no choice but to spend the night there.

Of course, she knew these truths would be of no comfort to Johan’s fiancée.

Like all adulterous couples who insist nothing happened, it would sound like an excuse.

She worried about appearing as a woman with lingering feelings for her ex-husband.

She was concerned they might have such a groundless misunderstanding.

“Forty, love!”

By the time Olivia came to her senses, the ball she had struck at her feet had already rolled away aimlessly.

Olivia raised her hand to tuck the stray hairs clinging to her cheek behind her ear.

With his long legs crossed and arms folded, Edgar calmly gazed at Olivia.

Focus, Olivia.

She was currently showing her worst condition.

Edgar’s gaze slowly moved past Olivia to the opposite side.

He directly faced Princess Anblyn, who had transformed from a tragic heroine to an avatar of vengeance.

Their eyes met. The princess sent him an exceptionally refreshing smile.

As if she had been waiting for his reaction, her curving eyes were exceedingly elegant.

How utterly shameless.

From the kidnapping incident to manipulating the tournament bracket, and now psychological attacks on top of that.

She truly was an extraordinary woman.

Even focusing solely on the game, Sara Pavlova was by no means an easy opponent. And now, Olivia was…

“Forty, love!”

Olivia, who had been helplessly trailing, finally conceded the first set. A chilly energy surrounded Edgar’s face.

‘Get a grip, Han Ji-an.’

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut.

Just as she was trying to suppress her thoughts and focus on the tennis ball, its shape suddenly transformed into Princess Krantz’s sharp face.

Olivia shook her head and bit her lip.

With slumped shoulders, Olivia headed to the opposite court.

‘How pitiful.’

Anblyn’s lips slowly curled upward. Her red-painted lips appeared even redder against the all-white attire.

How could someone with such skills even step foot on the Dumblin court?

From the moment she boldly put forward Anne Julbert’s name, it was clear she was a woman without conscience.

Whatever vanity drove her to play tennis, it would end today.

Thinking of the woman who only had humiliation left to face made her feel a bit sorry, but that was all.

Anblyn decided to leave at that point.

It didn’t seem worth enduring the increasingly hot sun to watch any further.

“The winner seems decided, shall we go?”

“Let’s go!”

Catherine, who had been suffering in the weather that even a fan couldn’t help, stood up abruptly.

Anblyn, smiling at the sight, was just about to rise after adjusting her clothes when…

“Olivia! You can do it!”

A woman in the audience stood up suddenly and shouted with her hands cupped around her mouth. Frowning glances concentrated in that direction.

“!”

Olivia’s eyes widened.

It was Bianca Elaine.

You came.

As their eyes met, Elaine waved both hands vigorously above her head. The tip of Olivia’s nose tingled.

Olivia finally smiled brightly.

Grateful, so grateful.

Her gaze, which had lingered long on Elaine, slowly swept down the stands, stopping at a certain point.

Anblyn Grace Brit.

She was smiling.

Without taking her eyes off the princess, Olivia slowly bounced the ball on the ground.

The next moment, as she gripped the ball she had snatched up, the look in Olivia’s eyes changed.

Olivia steadied her breath.

She tossed the ball up. Olivia’s back arched like a bow as she leapt off the ground.

Bang!

The sound changed.

The start of the second set began with Olivia’s counterattack. Her intensified blue eyes gleamed sharply in the sunlight.

“Anne?”

Catherine called out to Anblyn, who had stopped as she was about to leave.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

As Anblyn sat back down, Catherine blinked her large eyes and turned to look at Irene.

She hadn’t moved at all since the beginning, as if she had never intended to leave, and was staring intently at the server.

Olivia served again.

“Haaht!”

The sound of the ball cutting through the air as it was struck by the racket rang out. The fast ball flew relentlessly over the net.

There it was. The roar!

Russell Junior, sitting next to Edgar and anxiously watching Olivia’s play, clenched his fist and bit it.

Yes, that’s it. This is it.

Well done, Olivia!

This was the real start now.

Sara Pavlova stretched out her arm. The ball, hit with a slight flick of the wrist, flew precariously before finally getting caught in the net.

“Thirty, love!”

Sighs of disappointment erupted here and there. It was a reaction opposite to when Olivia had lost points.

Everyone united in hoping that Sara Pavlova would thoroughly trample the shameless temptress.

This is annoying.

Sara grimaced and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Could such a powerful and accurate serve have come out just by luck? She knew better than anyone that the possibility was slim.

As expected, was it a strategy?

As she adjusted her grip on the racket, her wrist ached. She had been careless.

Sara, caught off guard by the completely different, strong ball, glared at Olivia while bending at the waist.

The woman tossed the ball up again.

Here it comes!

Bang! Piercing through the blinding sunlight, the ball flew fast and strong.

“I have eyes too.”

The tone was dry and sharp.

The executive who had been mechanically reading off the numbers in the report closed his mouth.

It was raining. Heavy raindrops pattered against the conference room window.

Johan twisted the wrist of the arm propping up his chin slightly to look at his watch. The match should have started by now.

The first game of Olivia Blanchet, who had been his wife.

Johan stroked his chin with oily fingers. The meeting was dragging on tediously.

“So. What’s the solution?”

People express anger in various ways.

In Johan’s case, his gray eyes darkened and became eerily calm. Just like now.

The executive, feeling as if trapped in the eye of a typhoon, swallowed hard once and then mumbled in a crawling voice.

“…I think it would be best to withdraw.”

The stock price of the Hessen steel company, acquired by the Leopold family, had plummeted due to the civil war in Hessen, a colony of Londos.

Until just now, he had been rambling on about the extent of the damage.

Amidst the unstable political situation, factories and companies owned by Londos businessmen had been indiscriminately attacked in riots that broke out everywhere.

To minimize loss of life and financial losses, withdrawing now would be the best option.

“Is that your conclusion?”

“……”

The executive fell silent again under the particularly sharp gaze flying his way.

Now the executives were just glancing at each other and sneaking looks at the head seat.

Johan cast his gaze out the now opaque window.

Sara Pavlova, was it? Johan recalled the woman’s winning record he had seen in the article.

Could she really win? No matter how hard he tried, it was difficult to imagine Olivia playing tennis.

“If we just catch the king, it’ll be over. Why should I withdraw?”

The executives’ attention turned to Johan as his voice flowed in with boredom.

It would be over if they just caught the leader of the armed resistance group known as ‘The Torch of Hessen’.

But it was a headache because there was no information on where he was hiding. So the queen had sent in an assassination squad.

The Londos elite special forces unit to which Mikhail belonged, known as the Black Shadow.

“Let’s wait and see a bit longer.”

Johan checked the time out of habit.

“If we do that, the risk—”

“The situation will be sorted out within a month.”

Johan said, as if bored.

“The next agenda item is…”

“Let’s end it here. I have an appointment.”

“……”

Johan suddenly stood up from the head seat, picking up the jacket he had taken off.

The executives just stared at Johan with their eyes wide open.

The great Johan Leopold standing up in the middle of a meeting?

“Sir?”

Even Morris was perplexed as he watched the retreating back moving away with quick strides.

What appointment that even he didn’t know about could make those footsteps echoing through the conference room so urgent?

It was a fierce battle in every sense of the word.

Sara Pavlova was a top-ranked player, but where on earth had that woman been hiding to only appear now?

People watching this sword fight, which could be counted on one hand even including men’s singles and doubles, marveled at the divinely appearing Olivia Blanchet.

Sara Pavlova was trailing 1-3 in the early second set.

She made consecutive mistakes in her specialty, the volley, and eventually had to concede the second set to Olivia.

Now whoever won the next set would win.

‘This is so annoying!’

Sara Pavlova, furrowing her brow as much as she could, tossed the ball high.

With a bang, Olivia ran towards the ball.

A long rally ensued with no quarter given.

The long skirt reaching down to her shins wrapped around her legs.

The thin cotton long-sleeved blouse was starting to cling to her sweaty arms, creating resistance to her movements.

Sara had never sweated this much before.

Damn it!

The curse slipped out.

Sara glared at Olivia. Her seemingly delicate body was surprisingly sturdy.

She showed no signs of fatigue. That fact alone made Sara anxious and her blood run cold.

Game score 5:4, a barely widened point difference.

Please, just 1 more point!

Sara grew desperate.

She had to end it before Olivia could make it 5-5, a deuce situation.

But Sara’s stamina was already hitting rock bottom.