Chapter 70

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 70

Chapter Title: Prayer

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"I won't be able to watch tomorrow's match due to some urgent business. I'll probably be back the day after."

It was a low, gentle voice.

"Ah... Okay."

Her excited heart sank a little, but Olivia didn't want to burden Edgar, so she smiled and replied.

"Is that all you've got to say?"

"Pardon?"

Her gaze, which had dropped to the balcony floor to hide her disappointment, sparkled once more as she looked up at him.

"I was hoping for a more disappointed reaction."

Edgar teased, the corners of his mouth curling up mischievously.

"You said it was important."

"If you told me not to go..."

Edgar wrapped his arm around Olivia's slender waist and pulled her close.

"I might consider it."

"D-don't do this."

Startled by the natural closeness in broad daylight, Olivia pushed him away, glancing nervously toward the glass doors.

Edgar let out a soft chuckle.

The transparent midday sunlight made her flushed cheeks stand out even more vividly.

A few strands of hair cascaded down her snowy nape.

"You tied your hair up today."

His gaze lingered on her alluring neckline as he whispered into her ear.

He leaned down, and his lips brushed her smooth skin. Olivia shuddered as if electrified.

"Please, Edgar. Not here."

"Then where?"

Edgar asked playfully with a laugh. Olivia squirmed restlessly in his arms.

"Keep moving like that, and it might get awkward. Not that I mind."

He murmured, biting his lower lip.

His languid tone and the seductive smile on his handsome face looked almost indecent.

It wasn't the kind of expression suited to the blazing midday sun.

Realizing what he meant, Olivia froze stiff as a log.

She stared up at him without even blinking, utterly captivating in her frozen state, but he released her there.

Truth be told, he was the one who would've been in trouble.

Olivia placed both hands over her chest and let out a quiet sigh of relief. Her whole body felt feverish.

"I'll be back soon."

Edgar, back to his gentlemanly self, said tenderly.

Olivia couldn't meet his eyes and just nodded.

"Do well in your match."

His gentle hand cupped her face, and he pressed his lips to her round forehead.

Olivia's eyes flew wide in surprise.

"Don't smile too much at Russell Junior."

Edgar pulled back with a grin.

"You can do that for me, right?"

He lowered his gaze, savoring the sight of her held captive by him.

Her face, flushed red under the bright sunlight like a lamp, was breathtakingly beautiful.

This smile directed only at him, these eyes holding only him—it should have brought him joy. Yet it filled Edgar with equal parts fear.

The woman he wanted was showing her undeniable love for him with her whole body, and he was terrified it might all go wrong.

He feared she might learn of his baseness and leave him.

Please, let this woman remain ignorant of everything.

Let this radiant smile continue to shine on me alone—for the first time in his life, Edgar prayed to God.

Wait, what did we just see?

Elaine and Russell Junior froze for entirely different reasons.

This is insane!

Russell Junior dropped the cigarette from his lips. His deer-like eyes blinked slowly in disbelief.

Through the lace curtains draped like a secretive veil, the shadowy figures moved in a way that was anything but innocent.

They look just like lovers.

No way.

Russell Junior glared at the elongated shadows a moment longer before jumping up with a shout. "Hot, hot!"

He hopped around like a chicken with its tail on fire, spewing curses nonstop.

"When he should be focusing on the match, why's he shaking up the player like that? What a total bastard, right?"

For once, Elaine agreed with Russell Junior.

Edgar Langcaster Lancelot was a bad man, after all.

What could the Marquis Lancelot be thinking?

The atmosphere between the two was far from ordinary.

Were they truly in love? Or was it just a fleeting curiosity sparked by an alluring divorcée?

Regret washed over Elaine.

She should have mustered the courage to confess the truth that day.

It was the evening before Olivia left for Bria, when they had dinner together.

'Edgar. Be careful of that man.'

That was all she could say.

'He's the princess's man. You said you're staying here. There's no good in getting involved.'

She had taken his money, so she couldn't face Olivia squarely.

But now... Now that she had a friend she could call a true friend for the first time in her life, what should she do?

The closer Elaine grew to Olivia, the greater her fear grew from guilt.

She didn't want to shatter their friendship.

Yet for a true friendship, she had to tell Olivia everything.

But she dreaded the Marquis Lancelot's retaliation.

Elaine's worries deepened.

If only it were a light emotion passing like a breeze.

Edgar would have been the perfect partner to enjoy the sweetness before drowning in the honey pot and leaving without regrets.

So she prayed Olivia wouldn't get hurt.

Elaine could only pray.

Catherine slowly read the letter stamped with the Rondos royal seal.

Then her calm eyes began to shake past a certain point, swelling with tears until they spilled over.

Her hands trembled as they held the letter.

"What's wrong, Catherine?"

Her gaze drifted blankly into space before tears fell.

Her pale, quivering hand covered her mouth.

She had just returned from watching Princess Annblin's fourth-round match to the western palace of Britt.

Irene had felt uneasy ever since seeing the express international mail with the Rondos royal seal in the silver tray, and now she called out to Catherine.

"Catherine?"

Catherine, pale and silent, suddenly burst into sobs.

"...My brother... my brother..."

Unable to continue, she buried her face in her hands and collapsed onto her lap, sobbing.

The letter fell to the carpet, which Irene picked up.

The ink was smudged in places, but it didn't hinder understanding the contents.

"...!"

Irene's hands trembled uncontrollably as well. The midday light pouring through the large windows was too bright, making her dizzy.

「My beloved daughter.」

It was a personal letter from Queen Katrina, conveying news of her son's accident.

Having read to the end, Irene exhaled a shaky breath.

If God exists, please break this man's legs and keep him by my side.

Her desperate, heartrending prayer from the past two years had finally come true.

The epitome of arrogant beauty, Crown Prince Christian, had become crippled.

Even in broad daylight, the crown prince's bedroom was draped in curtains, filled with the herbal scent unique to aromatherapy candles—different from usual.

"Get out."

A small voice muffled from his face buried in the cushion.

His usually arrogant tone was cracked and withered.

Johann, who had been staring at the dust motes in the thin sliver of sunlight through the curtain gap, pulled up a chair and sat in a suitable spot.

"The Azent royals sent a demand for annulment."

"Bastard."

Christian, still lying sideways with his face buried in the cushion, muttered.

"No interest in asking how I'm doing first?"

"My mood's pretty foul right now too."

She was a woman he'd shared a bed with for three years but never once seen play tennis.

Yet Olivia Blanchett had astonishingly advanced to the Dumblin Championship finals.

While he, the crown prince paralyzed from the waist down after drunkenly falling from a horse during a polo match, was left to clean up the mess.

Christian chuckled madly. He sounded deranged.

He roughly swept back his unwashed, matted blond hair and turned his head.

"I'm doomed to live the rest of my life as a cripple, so what could possibly piss me off more? Tell me! What?!"

He laughed hysterically before suddenly turning beet red and yelling.

The aromatherapy candles meant to soothe his mind seemed useless—just filling the air.

Moreover, with the sedative wearing off, violence swirled in Christian's eyes.

He still couldn't accept his situation, his mind and body unstable.

"Don't make trouble for others because of your own mess. Think about your future."

"Don't talk like it's easy."

"What difference does hard talk make?"

"Cold-blooded prick. Get out."

Christian buried his face back in the cushion, muttering curses.

Unable to control his exploding emotions, he pounded the cushion wildly with his fists, howling.

Then he flung whatever he could grab.

A glass pitcher flew perilously past Johann's shoulder, shattering against the marble table edge with a sharp crash.

Christian gripped a water glass.

Johann was starting to get annoyed.

He stood and bent at the waist.

Grabbing Christian's chin with a large hand, he lifted it up.

The crystal glass slipped powerlessly from Christian's loosened grip, rolling onto the bed.

"...Y-you dare."

Christian gasped, flailing his arms wildly.

"Touch my body? I'm still the crown prince of this country! The crown prince!"

Johann stared piercingly at Christian. His sharp eyes were cold and barren.

"If you know that, act like one. Not like a damn child."

Johann murmured lowly as he released his hand.

Christian rubbed his reddened neck, gasping for the breath he'd been denied.

Yet his glare stayed fixed on Johann, tears pooling at the corners of his deeply folded eyes.

"Don't cry in front of me."

"Can't exactly go cry somewhere else with my legs like this."

Christian covered his eyes with a rough hand and snickered. Tears streamed down his temples.

Not tears of remorse for his debauched life, but of irrepressible rage.