Chapter 52

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 52

Chapter Title: The Party Hasn't Started Yet

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Could you stop the carriage for a moment?"

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

"What's wrong, Miss?"

Olivia's gaze was calm in response to Anne's question.

She knew it was rude, but no matter how much she thought about it, going to Golden Avenue today didn't feel right.

All her senses were screaming warnings at her.

"Anne, I have a favor to ask."

Olivia paused cautiously before speaking.

"...It's not a good idea for me to go there today. Could you deliver the message for me?"

"Of course."

Anne had been worried about it the whole time too.

Even running into the Duke by chance wouldn't end well.

If such a disaster happened, the gossips would pounce like a pack of hyenas, tearing into the poor young lady.

"I'll go."

"Tell them I'm sorry."

Olivia gave a faint smile.

"Don't worry, Miss."

Anne stepped down.

Through the gap in the curtains, Olivia watched Anne hurrying into the bustling crowd.

Once Anne was completely out of sight, Olivia let go of the curtain and turned her head slightly toward the window.

"Let's go now."

The carriage began to turn around to depart.

The unexpected visitor turned out to be Olivia's maid.

"Anne? What brings you here?"

Gerald asked, somewhat surprised.

"The young lady asked me to tell you she's terribly sorry. She apologizes for the rudeness of unilaterally canceling today's meeting and begs your forgiveness—"

"Meeting?"

Edgar cut off the maid's rambling explanation.

The smile that had lingered on Edgar's face moments ago gradually hardened. He narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at the maid.

The maid blinked blankly before her lips twitched.

"She can't come—"

"Where."

"......"

The maid's face grew paler by the second.

"H-Here. To this place... You summoned her here, didn't you, Marquis?"

A furrow formed between Edgar's brows. Seeing it, Anne began to tremble. Something was wrong. Her instincts screamed it.

A red silence hung in the office bathed by the setting sun.

"Why are you so sure it was me?"

Edgar murmured lowly as he slowly swept back his neatly combed hair.

"Because... you sent the letter."

The maid, now ashen-faced, looked on the verge of tears.

"What did it say."

His sinking gaze was chilling. His patience was nearing its limit.

"...The young lady read it. I don't know."

Her quivering lips trembled as she fought back sobs.

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

Young master, Gerald called, but he seemed deaf to everything.

The crimson sun streaming through the window illuminated the pale man's face.

"Send someone to Marie. She might have returned."

Edgar muttered softly, gazing quietly down at the Leopold Hotel.

Carriages carrying Litton's social elite swarmed toward the brilliantly lit Leopold Hotel like moths to a flame.

A carriage bearing beautiful princesses arrived around then. Camera flashes erupted in bursts of light across the sunset-reddened city.

Annblin, who had struck a graceful pose for the press photographers, finally turned away.

Her stunning legs paused midway up the stairs carpeted in red.

"Princess Annblin! Just one look over here!"

Annblin slowly turned her head. Silver flashes blazed once more from all directions.

Annblin's smile, fixed on the Lancelot Hotel, was dyed blood-red by the intense sunset, like a vivid rose.

The Britt Crown Prince's tedious speech droned on.

But the noblewomen gazing at the statue-like Johann had no time to be bored.

"My goodness."

Exclamations spilled out from behind their fans.

After repeatedly urging contributions to bilateral relations and Britt's economic growth, the Crown Prince concluded his speech to thunderous applause and handed the stage to Johann.

Johann bowed politely and took the podium with perfect posture.

His formal attire accentuated his solid build beautifully.

Gasps rose from Britt noblewomen encountering him in the flesh.

Johann began with thanks to Britt, then briefly expressed gratitude to the guests before ending his speech.

There was no trace of the forced smile Morris had drilled into him.

For the commemorative photo, the Crown Prince couple, Johann, and the Krantz princess took center, with key figures arranging around them. The photographer ducked under his cloth.

Bang! White smoke billowed out.

Johann popped the champagne.

Golden liquid cascaded from the top of the champagne tower, sparkling as it flowed. Applause and cheers erupted.

The party had begun.

"Magnificent."

The soaring ceiling, ornate wood panels, gold-leaf friezes connecting elegant classical columns...

The interior evoked a mystical blend of ancient temple and Renaissance grandeur. Noblewomen touring the ballroom marveled openly.

"You look as radiant as ever, Your Highness."

Under the chandelier's dazzling light, gentlemen showered praises on Annblin in her subtle golden gown.

Annblin responded to the dazed men with enchanting smiles.

Yet her eyes scanned between their shoulders, searching for Edgar.

"Your Highness."

A maid approached and whispered in her ear. Annblin's lips curved into a long smile as she listened.

Johann stood beside Irene, exchanging meaningless pleasantries with Britt political figures.

Even in his boredom, his refined smiles revealed the Rondos royal dignity.

Irene nodded occasionally with a composed expression, her innate superiority naturally evident.

"Finally a match worthy of you. It's a delight to the eyes, isn't it?"

Admiration poured for the perfect couple.

As the hotel owner—today's de facto host—and his partner stepped into the hall's center, the ballroom gradually filled.

The opening dance was a waltz.

The two stood at a perfect distance—not too close, not too far—and locked eyes, forming a splendid picture.

Johann lightly placed his hand on Irene's back.

The gentle violin melody echoed through the grand hall. Johann led the princess.

Irene followed his lead.

The man's face was expressionless, like someone handling a duty.

Yet his lead was smooth, and his refined features made even that seem dignified.

Was he like this with his wife too? This indifferent face?

If only Christian had worn such a cold expression. Then she might have moved on.

Christian's outline overlapped the man's face.

She hated him—knowing her feelings, yet engaging herself to another woman and now sending her to his cousin.

"Speak."

Nearly at the dance's end, Johann finally spoke.

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

His bored eyes fell on Irene. She didn't avoid them.

"I'll be staying through the tennis tournament."

"Do as you wish."

The string instruments reached a crescendo, their notes rippling like waves.

"...I want to stay at the hotel."

The man's straight brows narrowed.

Though Catherine was nearby, the Krantz princess found Princess Annblin and her entourage uncomfortable—lacking any real familiarity.

Even the maids and friends smiling so warmly hid eyes pitying the small kingdom's girl. Pretending not to notice was exhausting.

"I'll have a room prepared."

The night breeze from the terrace was mild, making the man's voice feel even colder.

Was it because he resembled Christian so much? Irene's chest ached faintly.

The dance ended.

Edgar strode up the red-carpeted stairs, crossed the Leopold Hotel lobby. Gaudy lights stung his eyes.

'She hasn't returned yet.'

Olivia had vanished.

His breath tightened. The hotel's festive music slid precariously along his frayed nerves.

The grand ballroom doors swung open, unleashing a tidal wave of sound against his eardrums.

His gaze pierced through, landing on Annblin standing aloof by an outer pillar.

As if on purpose, flaunting herself—the princess stood there.

Their eyes met.

Even from afar, he was unmistakable. Edgar.

Annblin savored his rapid approach while tilting her champagne flute.

Her prepared party hadn't even begun, yet it was already delightful.

"Olivia. Where is she."

His face, suppressing emotional turmoil, was icy.

"A greeting at least, between us."

Annblin smiled, her amber eyes sparkling.

"I asked where she is."

"Has that woman vanished on you?"

Annblin raised her brows slightly and asked calmly. Then she burst out laughing.

"Your face right now. Do you know how ridiculous it looks?"

To think a man could be this amusing. The sight of him fretting over Olivia Blanchett as if she were something precious was hilarious.

"This doesn't suit you."

"What doesn't."

"Sincerity."

The crisp sound of her lofty pride cracking echoed, but Annblin kept her elegant smile to the end.

"You never had it. So don't pretend to be sincere."

...Sincerity.

Edgar felt dazed, as if struck on the back of the head. His gaze wandered blankly, grappling with the unfamiliar word.

A pawn to use and discard—no more, no less. It didn't suit a mere ticket seller.

Sincerity, of all things.

Pfft. A scoff escaped. Tilting his gaze away, Edgar muttered lowly.

"...The day you touch even a fingertip."

The woman deceiving herself was pathetic.

"Your life ends too, Ann."