Chapter 67

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 67

Chapter Title: Blanchett VS Seymour

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Evangeline steadied her ragged breathing as she scanned the stands, her gaze locking once more onto the VIP box.

The haughty noble ladies' cold stares pierced her like arrows.

Evangeline rubbed her stinging wrist and bit her lip. Then she turned her eyes to the opposite side.

Olivia Blanchett, handed a fresh ball, assumed her serving stance again.

This won't do.

She had to break this unfavorable momentum.

Sweat poured down Evangeline's back like rain. It was hot, and her throat burned with thirst.

If she felt this way, surely that woman did too. Just as Olivia bent her knees slightly to toss the ball...

"Let's take a short break."

Evangeline called for a timeout from the referee.

It was time to turn the tide.

The mid-match break was announced.

In the Dumblin arena, lush with verdant greenery in early July, gasps of excitement erupted softly from the hushed crowd.

If she hadn't interrupted the flow, Olivia—who had been dominating relentlessly—would have seized complete control.

With her crisp, refreshing play cutting through the sweltering heat now halted, the disappointed spectators watched the two players head to their benches, hoping for a quick resumption.

As Olivia and Evangeline made their way to their respective benches, their eyes met naturally.

Evangeline responded to Olivia's smile with a soft, sparkling gaze, but the moment she turned away, her mask-like expression vanished.

Thirsty to her core, Evangeline gulped down water the instant she sat. Her eyes remained fixed on Olivia Blanchett.

Drink the water, Olivia.

She murmured it inwardly like a spell.

Olivia picked up the neatly folded towel on the table.

Beside it stood a water bottle emblazoned with Lancelot Hotel's golden logo.

She meticulously wiped her forehead, refolded the towel precisely, and set it aside before sitting on the bench.

Then she leaned forward to retie her shoelaces.

Evangeline grew anxious.

Olivia tightened both shoelaces securely, then smoothed her hair.

Was she really not going to touch the water? Evangeline's impatience burned like black smoke inside her.

After catching her breath, Olivia fixed her gaze somewhere and flashed a radiant smile.

Evangeline's eyes naturally followed.

Edgar Langcaster Lancelot. The two exchanged smiles with locked gazes.

Please!

Evangeline was on pins and needles. Only three or four minutes left in the break.

Unable to bear it any longer, she nearly bolted over, grabbed Olivia's chin, pried her mouth open, and poured the water in herself.

Drink it.

Finally, Olivia seemed to tear her lingering gaze away and hesitated before looking at the bottle beside her.

"……."

Olivia slowly reached out her arm.

"!"

Evangeline's heart pounded like a drum.

Please...

At last, she lifted the bottle.

Hurry.

Olivia slowly twisted off the cap and set it on the table. She stared blankly at the bottle for a moment.

Drink!

Evangeline held her breath, staring obsessively. Her hand, clutching the towel to her nape, trembled with tension.

As Evangeline's lips turned red against her pearly teeth, on the verge of bursting, Olivia brought the bottle to her crimson lips.

Time seemed frozen; every one of Olivia's movements dragged on endlessly.

"……!"

The next instant, Olivia Blanchett's smooth throat moved slowly.

Evangeline shivered at the sight.

It's over!

The port city of Whaleport, known as the navy’s heart, buzzed with festival energy ahead of the launch of the world’s first dreadnought battleship.

Otherwise, the city—revisited after completing his royal service—seemed unchanged.

Johann stepped down from the carriage.

The towering Kingdrapalga loomed into view first, facing the azure sea.

"You've arrived, sir. This way."

Johann gave a curt nod to the officer and loosely placed his officer's cap on his head.

The golden laurel emblem at the center of the white dress cap gleamed in the transparent sunlight.

On the platform, an officer introducing the event's dignitaries.

The admiral, navy commander-in-chief, and captain ascended one by one, gave brief speeches, and took their designated seats.

"His Grace, Duke Johann Edinburgh Leopold."

The invited domestic and international VIPs, and the crowds filling the harbor, began to murmur.

"Wasn't His Highness the Crown Prince supposed to attend?"

The navy had only been notified that morning. Though sudden, the crown prince's unreliability meant his aides dismissed it lightly.

In the midst of the confusion, Johann—in his navy uniform—ascended the platform steps. Sunlight glided over the formal insignia and golden belt buckle.

Johann, standing at the podium, slowly swept his gaze over the crowd looking up at him.

'Born into royalty, the only moment free from duty and responsibility is death itself, Johann.'

An unwelcome voice echoed like an auditory hallucination, drawing a sneer.

Johann flicked his wrist to glance at his watch. Eleven a.m. Olivia's match should have ended.

Did she win?

He'd wondered the whole time about the match he could have leisurely watched if he'd boarded the ship in Le Mont as planned last night.

Meanwhile, the audience pondered the crown prince's absence.

What could it be? As speculations buzzed, Johann slowly raised his head. Straight ahead loomed the massive warship. Rondo's national flag, the red royal banner, and the navy ensign fluttered vigorously in the sea breeze.

'Fulfill your duty.'

"Dear citizens of Whaleport."

Johann's speech began. His leisurely yet weighty voice carried on the sea wind without haste.

As always, he concluded briefly.

The Kingdrapalga's sponsor was the admiral's daughter.

A young woman, barely past her coming-of-age, still girlish, swung the champagne bottle tied to a rope against the hull.

A deafening crash, sharp glass shards reflecting the afternoon sun.

Amid applause and cheers, the Kingdrapalga slid down the slipway.

Flashes burst from all sides to capture the historic spectacle.

The warship hit the water with a massive spray, tilting perilously before righting itself.

Under the scorching summer sun, the earth-shaking roar made his eardrums ring.

Did she win?

Staring at the vast ocean, Johann finally turned away.

"Next is the unveiling of the Rumzfeld former prime minister's memorial, Your Grace. ...Here is the speech."

Back on the train to Leiden. The aide flinched involuntarily at Johann's gaze and stepped back.

Crown Prince Christian was tall, but Duke Leopold added an untouchable intimidation that chilled the spine.

Johann skimmed the speech half-heartedly and cast a sharp glance out the window.

A migraine brewing, he rubbed his temple and tugged at the stiff collar button.

In the golden-tinged capital skyline, the Daphne River bridge piers stretched far off.

The statue of the love goddess Arke revealed its graceful form in the setting sun.

'...I want to kiss.'

'Right there.'

That day, if he'd stopped the carriage and kissed you before the goddess Arke. What might have become of us?

A meaningless what-if.

Even then, Johann Leopold would never have fallen in love.

For he didn't know what form it took.

The carriage from Leiden Central Station halted at Greenwood Park.

Johann silently refastened his undone button.

Entering the venue, he gave a public speech.

Cut the ribbon, posed for photos, sipped celebratory drinks, exchanged pleasantries. Then to the royal hospital charity gala.

Clever bastard.

In the carriage, Johann closed his weary eyes and muttered a curse. Night had fully fallen beyond the window.

In this murderous schedule, the crown prince's debauched life was almost admirable.

Did she win?

Even in exhaustion, that woman—Olivia Blanchett—came to mind.

For the first time since reuniting with his wife, he wanted to see her but couldn't.

It was strange.

From the tension?

"……."

Evangeline's heart suddenly raced. Reaching for the incoming ball, dizziness hit, and her legs buckled.

Her limbs went limp, strength draining from her body.

Olivia, with serve in the second set, tossed and struck the ball swiftly.

Evangeline shook her head violently. The ball doubled, tripled in her vision.

Why is this happening?

She swung her racket, but the ball had already whizzed past. Her breathing grew labored.

"Hah, hah……."

Something's wrong.

Cold sweat broke out all over.

That woman's fine, so why me...

Evangeline whipped her head to focus. Her pearl-pinned hair swayed.

Stray strands clung like spiderwebs to her sweat-beaded forehead and cheeks.

Haah! A beastly roar, and another ball flew.

Her vision spun. Legs gave out mid-step toward the ball; her feet tangled, and she tumbled flat.

Oh no! Sighs poured from the stands. The buzzing noise sounded like mocking jeers.

'I think Miss Seymour has more than enough skill to join our circle.'

Princess Annblin's kind voice faintly echoed in her ears.

I can't suffer this humiliation here.

Evangeline used her racket as a crutch to stand—or tried to, but her half-risen body slumped powerlessly.

No way.

Lying on the grass, she felt her pounding heart slow abruptly. The clear blue sky filled her view.

Piercing sunlight blackened at the edges.

No way...

In her blurring vision, that woman appeared. Blue eyes like the sky swirled with shock and worry.

Innocuous eyes.

"Are you... al... right?"

With the woman's voice fragmenting in her ears, Evangeline lost consciousness.