Chapter 34

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 34

Chapter Title: The First Woman

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Dumblin Cricket & Tennis Club.

That haughty, supremely arrogant place didn't even allow the queen inside.

The king himself had once fled there after causing a major scandal. For women, it was a threshold so high, so exclusive.

And yet, for a mere illegitimate child to be the first woman admitted...

It was enough to make Queen Margreta sit bolt upright in her coffin.

Annblin's face drained of color as she calmly read the article. Her pale cheeks soon flushed red.

She shook her head slightly, blinked a couple of times, then stared piercingly at the page again.

She hadn't misread it.

"Lancelot's officially sponsored first female player."

The fact that Olivia Blanchett was playing tennis was shocking enough, but the idea that Lancelot was providing even more support was utterly baffling.

Edgar, how could you.

How could you do this to me.

When Annblin had first shown interest in tennis. When she had started learning it. Even when she had entered her first tournament. He had shown no interest at all.

Annblin couldn't understand Edgar.

Not just Lancelot's sponsorship, but approval to enter the Dumblin Club too.

Why only for that woman...

Her rage, at its peak, suddenly turned to sorrow, crashing over her like a wave. Her eyes grew hot.

She thought she knew Edgar well.

"...I don't get it."

The Edgar now seemed like a stranger to Annblin. Too unfamiliar.

"Classic Edgar move."

Alex snatched the newspaper from Annblin as he spoke.

"..."

Annblin's easily bloodshot eyes turned to Alex. He folded the paper neatly and set it aside before continuing.

"Tomorrow, there'll be an official announcement about Johann and the Krantz Archduchess's engagement. And at a time like this, he puts out an article with this photo."

The folded newspaper featured a wedding photo of Duke Leopold and Olivia filling the page.

"...You think Edgar did it on purpose?"

"That's exactly the kind of guy he is."

"..."

"I won't say it outright since he's my brother, but what's the fun in watching a match with a predetermined winner, Ann?"

"What are you talking about? I won fair and square on skill."

Annblin glared at her brother, her ears turning red.

Louise inwardly sneered at the infuriating sight. Skill, my foot. Everyone knew.

Alex didn't want his sister hurt. She knew it too but wouldn't admit it, so he held back.

His sister wasn't foolish enough to miss that women's tennis was an unpopular event, with ticket sales so poor that the royals had to step in just to break even.

"Right. Then do well again this time."

Alex smiled at Annblin.

As someone who had strongly opposed her relationship with Edgar, he always pitied his sister for failing to marry the agent prince and coming back empty-handed. He felt some responsibility too.

"I can assure you it's not the kind of relationship you think."

"What kind?"

"Yeah. It's not that. The two of them..."

Alex spoke soothingly to his sister, who sat limply with the betrayed look of a jilted lover.

"It's more like a mutual using-each-other kind of deal."

"..."

The carriage was passing through Golden Bridge on the lower reaches of the Bizhen River. Red national flags fluttered beneath a row of golden streetlamps.

Utilitarian value.

To Edgar, Olivia Blanchett was nothing more, nothing less.

Realizing that cold truth—that she was just a tool for selling tournament tickets—cleared Annblin's mind. Her anger melted away like a lie.

She could even pity the woman.

Maybe Olivia Blanchett wasn't a seductress, just an unfortunate soul. Pitiful and pathetic.

Before long, the carriage arrived at the Royal Art Academy. As the door opened, camera flashes exploded from all sides.

The crown prince and his wife alighted first. Annblin descended gracefully after them and managed a genuine smile in front of the crowd.

"Did you see this morning's article, Princess?"

Reporters swarmed in unison.

"A word about the new Blanchett player!"

"Do you see her as a rival?"

Her ears rang from the barrage of shouted questions, but Annblin kept her composed expression.

"From the necklace incident to the Dumblin tournament—what's your mood, Your Highness?"

Annblin looked down briefly at the jostling reporters. Her lips parted as if to speak, and a hush fell. She flashed an elegant smile befitting a princess of the realm.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Confidence rang in her clear voice.

"I hope she makes it to the finals."

Amid the renewed silver flashes, Annblin's diamond tiara sparkled brilliantly.

Escorted by her attendants, Annblin turned away. The desperate cries of "Princess! Princess!" from all around sent a thrill through her.

"Ridiculous, miss. A challenge? Honestly."

Anne was furious at the outrageously sensational headline. Olivia silently gazed at the shadows swaying on the silk curtains.

The carriage carrying Olivia and Anne passed through the main gate of Dumblin Club. Reporters lying in wait for Olivia ignored the carriage emblazoned with the McDowell crest.

It had been a good call to take the carriage Henry sent, as he'd suggested. How had word leaked about her plan to use the facilities secretly for a month?

The club wouldn't undermine its long-standing traditions and honor by allowing a woman in. They wouldn't have spread rumors themselves.

And a wedding photo with Johann, of all things.

No matter how she thought about it, it reeked of malice.

Olivia and Anne alighted and followed the staff member's guidance into the building. He pointed to a detailed club map in the lobby and explained.

"You'll use Court 12. From nine a.m. to noon. And to avoid disturbing other members, please refrain from entering other areas."

"Got it."

Olivia replied with a smile.

Once the businesslike staffer left, Olivia reviewed the map once more before heading outside with Anne. The fresh scent of grass mingled with the sea breeze.

Her assigned court was at the far end, with the best sea view. The salty ocean air grew stronger with each step.

Calming her lightly pounding heart, she arrived to find a match in full swing.

Worried she'd gone to the wrong court, Olivia checked the number on the fence. It read exactly 12. Thinking maybe she was too early, she pulled out her pocket watch: eight fifty-five.

Five minutes.

Olivia waited quietly. But even after the appointed time, the match dragged on. She approached the scorekeeper.

"This court's reserved for me from nine."

The scorekeeper frowned down at her.

"You wait until the current members' match ends."

"So I have to wait until it's over?"

"Yes."

Olivia glanced at the scoreboard. Barely into the second set. Turning back, she saw the men rallying on court. She'd been standing there idly for over ten minutes now, a scoreless rally dragging boringly on.

'They're refusing to yield.'

Plainly, they had no intention of ending it. At least not before noon.

Olivia let out a small sigh.

Standing under the increasingly harsh sun, she and Anne wasted the day. The next day too. And the one after.

By the third day, Olivia still hadn't set foot on Dumblin Club's grass.

'If there's no path, make one.'

A man's smooth voice jolted her awake on the fourth day.

Two men stood gazing into the distance from a white window frame peeking through blue vines on red brick. The sky was cloudless, June's sun warm.

Pathetic bastards.

Edgar clicked his tongue. Occupying the court just to kill time.

So Olivia couldn't use it. Solely for that childish purpose, those energetic fools had been at it for three hours straight. Beside them stood Olivia, rigid and unmoving with her maid.

Today too, she was all white like a windflower, save for her deep brown hair.

"Tell them to yield."

Edgar said in a low voice, eyes still on Olivia.

"Yield the court."

Turning toward the sofa, Henry smiled faintly.

"Whether they yield or not is up to them. Outside my purview. They're paying customers, after all."

Henry McDowell replied indifferently.

Member backlash was bigger than expected. Dumblin Cricket & Tennis Club's other name was Millionaire's Club.

Did the top 1% who dominated politics and business come here just to hit balls?

No, it was a place for discreet talks on vital state affairs.

"Convincing them is her job."

Henry leaned back on the plush sofa, lifting his teacup.

"Aren't you curious?"

His wrinkled eyes crinkled mischievously as he savored the tea's aroma.

"Whether she can carve out her slice amid those arrogant noblemen."

Expectancy gleamed openly in the old man's eyes.

His perverse obsession with gambles was unmatched.

Observing a fragile woman tormented like a amusing play wasn't normal, but Edgar couldn't argue. He was cut from the same cloth.

Arms crossed at the window, Edgar watched the woman standing statue-still in one corner of the vast lawn.

Suddenly, the captivating woman moved. Her determined stride toward somewhere brought a faint smile to Edgar's impassive face.