Chapter 43

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 43

Chapter Title: Unexpected Uninvited Guest

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"I'm sorry, Master. It hasn't arrived yet."

The butler bowed politely toward Johann, inwardly lamenting his own mistake.

With the servants short-staffed from tending to the arriving guests one after another, he had sent a seemingly idle maid on the errand without much thought.

Yet as dinnertime approached, she still hadn't shown up.

The butler glanced at Johann's expression and pointed to the central clock.

"This piece seems to match today's attire perfectly. What do you think?"

Johann swept his narrowed gaze carelessly over the watches the butler had laid out as alternatives.

The butler's stomach churned at the displeasure evident in his eyes.

Where on earth could she be and what could be keeping her?

To Johann Leopold, the Patek "Nostalgia 1870" was more than just a wristwatch.

It was the first birthday gift—and the last—from his mother, the Edinburgh Duchess, given on the day he was born.

It was a tradition among the men of the Edinburgh ducal family to wear the watch received as a birth gift starting at age sixteen.

Typically, they alternated between different pieces depending on the occasion, but Johann was particularly attached to that one alone.

Johann closed his eyes and massaged the back of his neck with a large hand, slowly tilting his head backward.

The butler, thoroughly ashamed, couldn't muster the nerve to suggest anything else.

A faint weariness seeped from his impassive face—so dry and indifferent that it hardly seemed the expression of someone celebrating his birthday under the duke's auspices.

It was no different from how he had been even when Duchess Leopold was still alive.

"I'm sorry. This is my oversight."

The butler offered another courteous apology.

Just then, a knock sounded, and the door opened. The butler's gaze flew eagerly toward it in hopeful anticipation.

But his briefly brightening face hardened again upon seeing Morris.

If only it had been the maid we'd been waiting for.

"It's time to head down."

Johann halted his habitual motion to adjust his cuffs and rose from his seat.

"Master, the watch..."

"When it arrives. Then."

Johann replied dryly as he buttoned his black tailcoat.

The butler bowed deeply toward Johann's back as he crossed the bedroom. Another knock came right then.

Finally.

The butler perked up and lifted his head.

"......"

The smile at the tips of his mustache vanished in an instant. It wasn't the maid they'd been waiting for.

I should dismiss her today, the butler resolved, as the Leopold Hotel's deputy manager approached Johann directly.

"I have a report to make."

Johann nodded.

"Marquis Lancelot has checked in."

It was hardly noteworthy news. They had already anticipated his interference in the International Bank acquisition battle.

"And."

The staff member paused briefly before continuing.

"Miss Anne Marshall is staying with him."

"Anne Marshall?"

Morris elaborated at Johann's tone of unfamiliarity.

"Miss Blanchett's maid, from the earldom."

Johann's gaze, which had slanted downward as if weighing the implications, now returned forward.

"Olivia is."

"She's not on the guest list, at least."

Johann tilted his head slightly to the side.

What business could the maid, who shadowed Olivia like a ghost, have coming to Rondos alone?

His narrowed eyes sharpened. The fading afternoon's golden light pooled in his ash-gray irises.

'Happy birthday, Johann.'

His wife's voice pierced through him.

'I love you.'

Her face, endlessly murmuring words of love with that wistful smile.

Johann slowly closed his eyes amid the dazzling sunlight pouring through the glass window.

When he opened them again, all lingering afterimages had been wiped clean.

At Great Hill's main gate, adorned with a lion rearing up on its hind legs in mid-roar, the gatekeeper and coachman were locked in a heated standoff.

"This is the carriage carrying Marquis Edgar Langcaster Lancelot of the Lancelot ducal family from the Britt Kingdom."

"Exactly."

The gatekeeper sighed and explained once more.

"Even His Majesty the King of Britt couldn't enter without an invitation. So show me the invitation."

The two bickered back and forth for a while.

As the tedious argument dragged on, Edgar surveyed the scenery outside the carriage.

A refreshing breeze blew from the dense green forest.

Beyond the swaying curtains, Great Hill came into view, gleaming splendidly alone atop the hill as the sunset descended.

"Ah, well, we rushed from Britt and forgot the invitation."

The gatekeeper, worn out from the verbal sparring, sighed in resignation.

"Then wait a moment. I'll go ask the butler."

The grand mansion's gates showed no sign of opening easily.

The gatekeeper, yielding a step to the coachman's persistence, turned away.

The coachman hurriedly peered through the side window at Edgar, who gave a curt nod.

It meant to knock him out for a bit.

A gleaming white carriage came rattling down the fir-tree-lined avenue and halted just as the hulking coachman, stepping down from his perch, raised his arm to strike the gatekeeper's nape.

The horses' hooves clattered to a stop, and Edgar bit his lip. Damn it.

The gatekeeper and coachman, who had turned at the arrival of new guests, locked eyes.

"No... why."

The gatekeeper stammered, staring up at the brutish-looking coachman's raised hand.

He hadn't noticed when the man was seated, but up close, he looked quite the bandit with that massive build.

"......Dust on your shoulder."

The coachman lowered his arm as if nothing had happened, brushed off the gatekeeper's shoulder, scratched his ear, and returned to his post.

Then the coachman of the newly arrived carriage called out.

"This is the carriage carrying His Highness Prince Mikhail of Rondos."

Ah! Mikhail.

Edgar let out a silent chuckle.

It seemed the goddess of fortune was on his side, at least for today.

Stepping down from his carriage, Edgar approached the excessively ornate white one.

He tapped the gold-framed window with his cane.

A startled blond young man, mid-conversation with someone, turned his head.

"Brother?"

Mikhail's eyes widened as if he'd seen a ghost upon descending from the carriage.

"Is it really you?"

Edgar grinned in response instead of answering and boldly climbed aboard.

The gatekeeper ultimately had to allow Edgar's carriage through as an entourage member of the distinguished guest, Prince Mikhail.

He was the first uninvited guest in Great Hill's brief history.

The butler was equally stunned by the arrival of this unlisted intruder.

Staring blankly at the marquis, he exchanged greetings with Mikhail almost reflexively.

Even as he took the prince's hat and cane, his gaze remained fixed on Marquis Lancelot.

I need to inform the master.

Following the watch fiasco, the butler's insides were crisping up again. This was the head of a rival company, after all.

"I overtook Uncle's carriage. He'll arrive soon, so hold our seats."

Mikhail placed a light hand on the butler's shoulder as he moved to guide them, then withdrew it.

He crossed the central hall. The butler stared blankly at the unfamiliar guest striding confidently beside the prince.

"What's your scheme?"

It was when Edgar, who had been walking with a silent smile, turned toward the opposite corridor from the banquet hall.

Mikhail asked in a lowered voice.

He feigned stern narrowed eyes, but there was no small anticipation for what was to come.

One corner of Edgar's mouth curved up.

"It's my dear cousin's birthday."

A rose scent wafted on the gentle breeze. He pictured the woman anxiously awaiting news.

She had said she would never forget the favor and repay it someday, and he couldn't help but smile.

Knowing what she'll ask for.

'In what way?'

'Pardon...?'

She blinked her large eyes at him, seemingly not having thought that far, caught off guard.

Olivia's startled reactions were always entertaining to watch.

Edgar burst into laughter as he gazed at her flushed cheeks, wondering what she was imagining.

'Win the Dumblin Championship. That'll do.'

Ah! Her face flushed even deeper as she let out a sigh of relief.

'I can't guarantee a win, but I'll do my best.'

The woman's eyes cleared after a moment of silence.

Edgar continued, his lips tightening.

"Just dropping off a bottle of wine."

Edgar held up the gift box in his hand. It was wrapped in black paper tied with a crimson ribbon.

"You didn't poison it, did you?"

Mikhail glanced around warily and whispered. Edgar's wordless smile only made it more suspicious.

Mikhail, bored out of his mind, was dying of curiosity.

"What wind blew this way?"

Wind, huh...

"Who knows."

Edgar replied indifferently, turning away with a brief wave.

It meant not to follow anymore.

"Watch out not to catch the Dowager Duchess of Wellington's eye."

Edgar chuckled at the memory of the old lady's piercing glare.

She was one tenacious senior citizen.

Edgar shook off idle thoughts and headed straight to the parlor Anne had told him about.

Passing three or four stern portraits lining the long corridor brought him to an especially grand door.

Servants guarded it, but they showed no particular wariness toward a guest who had passed through Great Hill's main gate.

When he said he'd arrived to leave his gift and go, the door opened readily.

Edgar flashed a bright smile and entered the parlor casually.

The first thing that caught his eye was a towering pile of gifts shaped like a Christmas tree.

Wrapping papers and ribbons of every color scattered festive light under the chandelier.

It was a massive gift tree befitting Johann's stature.

Edgar set his box on a nearby table and approached the mound of presents.

Hands in his pockets, he scanned coolly for the navy paper bag.

Starting from a square velvet box that looked like jewelry, the packages grew larger toward the bottom.

"......"

No sign of a Patek shopping bag, let alone a logo-embossed leather case, anywhere.

Edgar frowned and circled to the left.

His gaze, fixed on the top, swept downward over the boxes when—bang—the parlor door flew open.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

A low voice sliced through the quiet stillness.