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Chapter 38
As the goddess’s bridge, bathed in the hues of the sunset, drew nearer—
A woman walking briskly caught Johann’s eye from behind.
Her glossy, dark brown hair, just long enough to brush her nape, fluttered in the river breeze.
“Olivia.”
The name slipped unconsciously from his lips, breaking the stillness.
A faint wrinkle formed between the princess’s brows—just for a moment—but Johann didn’t notice.
He continued staring out the window until the carriage passed the woman, then let out a dry chuckle.
She couldn’t possibly be here. Clearly, the photo sent by the spy had been seared into his mind.
‘Love me.’
The voice of his former wife echoed again in his ears like a hallucination.
One day, before dinner, Maurice had whispered that tomorrow was the madam’s birthday. Johann, seated at the table, had asked perfunctorily:
‘If there’s something you want, tell me.’
With a smile that held a trace of sorrow, she replied:
‘Love me.’
He hadn’t understood.
What value was there in a fleeting emotion—something bound to disappear, destined to end?
Johann finally turned his gaze from the woman walking away.
And met the eyes of the princess, who had been sitting still, staring ahead like a cold porcelain doll.
The space around them was drenched in a suffocating crimson light, the sunset at its peak.
“If I offended you, I apologize.”
Johann bowed his head politely.
The Princess of Kranz said nothing.
Despite the blazing red light, only a trace of displeasure lingered in her cold gaze—
Which soon vanished, her expression returning to indifference, and she turned toward the opposite window.
Johann, too, turned away. Checking his watch out of habit, he cast a meaningless gaze toward the distant Rondos Palace.
A quiet woman wasn’t so bad.
At least this princess wouldn’t talk about love.
That alone made this a worthwhile deal for Johann.
Now it was time to focus on the new negotiations with the crown prince.
The things he would gain, once again taking the role of knight on the chessboard:
The rights to issue currency and government bonds through International Bank, which was currently being acquired by the Leopold family. And the elevation of that bank to central bank status.
That would finally make the numbers add up. Even if it made him a scumbag, entering into a new engagement barely three months after his divorce.
Of course, all of this depended on the Leopold family’s acquisition, but—
As always, everything would fall into Johann Leopold’s hands with near certainty.
He decided to think only about the financial empire he was building.
The carriage slid through the palace’s golden gates. Eventually, it arrived in front of the state guesthouse.
“You brainless idiot!”
Russell Dixon’s furious roar echoed through the office as his face twisted in rage. His secretary shook his head like he’d been expecting this.
“Tell him to come right now! Immediately!!!”
Was this what he had stayed up all those nights for?
Russell’s black mustache quivered with fury.
With the volume threatening to burst eardrums, the secretary fled the icy office and sprinted toward Russell Junior’s location.
Crash! Something had been thrown and shattered against the wall.
The secretary fully understood Russell’s feelings.
There were limits to family disgrace. If it had been his son, he’d have made sure the kid never touched a racket again.
While catching his breath, the secretary made his way to Court 12—where the atmosphere was oddly cheerful.
A rich baritone laugh floated on the breeze.
“Ahaha. Very good. Excellent, Miss Blanchet.”
The man flashing a foolish grin, showing off perfect teeth, was none other than Russell Junior.
“Alright, let’s go deeper this time. Focus on your backhand.”
With his broad shoulders puffed up like a rooster flaunting itself before a hen.
“Yes, Coach.”
The woman smiled brightly, like morning sunlight.
How could anyone resist a smile like that? The secretary shook his head and approached Russell Junior from behind. Noticing someone’s presence, the latter said lazily as he served:
“Tell him I’m busy.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work. He’s very angry.”
“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t go.”
“But—”
“Nice swing. Keep that arm angle steady.”
Russell Junior busily returned Olivia’s shots, dishing out useless advice like candy.
Who was teaching who?
What a pathetic—
It was impossible not to curse.
The man should’ve been groveling. There’s a limit to stupidity, and you should only show off in front of people who can’t destroy you.
His attitude made the secretary’s concern for his well-being seem completely wasted. With a sigh of surrender, he turned to leave.
The shadows grew shorter. At precisely eleven, the main fountain shot up a burst of water. The misty spray broke into sparkling rainbows under the sun.
“Let’s call it a day.”
Catching her breath, Olivia stood in the center of the court and looked up.
“Thank you for today, Coach.”
She smiled as she accepted a towel from Russell Junior.
“I’ll continue some solo practice.”
“More? You want to do more?”
Russell Junior gaped in shock, blinking his big eyes.
“Thanks to you, my stamina’s improved. And there’s still time left.”
Wiping her cheek with the towel, Olivia smiled. Russell, now thoroughly pleased with himself, swept his hair back.
Even knowing he was being used, he still felt satisfied.
Thanks to Olivia’s “consideration,” he’d shed his bad reputation. Now, society ladies praised his gentlemanly chivalry.
‘Why go to such lengths for a woman like her? You’re too kind.’
‘How could any gentleman overpower a lady? Hahaha.’
For him, it was a symbiotic relationship with zero downsides.
“Ann.”
At Olivia’s call, her maid scurried to the opposite court. She pulled various items from a bag and arranged them neatly on the grass.
Seated under a parasol, Russell Junior paused mid-sip of his iced lemon water and tilted his head.
Surely not…
The maid placed the final wooden post and returned. Olivia tapped her toe with her racket head, then got into position.
Russell Junior downed his lemon water in one gulp and put a cigarette to his lips. Just as he struck a match—
The woman’s blue eyes sharpened with deadly focus as she held a green ball at her fingertips.
Her narrowed gaze gleamed like a bird of prey spotting its target in the sky.
The ball soared into the air. Olivia’s body bent like a bow and sprang upward.
Thwack! Her racket struck the descending ball dead center. The ball zipped forward and hit the first wooden post dead-on, knocking it over.
My God!
Russell Junior, who’d been watching in a daze, suddenly leapt up and shouted.
“Hot!!” The cigarette he’d loosely held dropped onto his thigh, leaving a black mark on his pristine white pants.
Watching silently, Ann pinched her palm to suppress laughter. For someone who looked so rough on the outside, the young master had surprisingly cute moments.
That day’s training ended only after Olivia knocked down all ten wooden posts.
“Aren’t you hungry? Let’s get lunch.”
Russell Junior spoke in his deep, gentlemanly tone.
After training, he always ate lunch with Olivia. A gesture made purely from goodwill.
From Riverside 3rd Avenue to here took about an hour and a half. Even if breakfast had been early, it was well past seven. Anyone would be hungry by now.
When she initially refused, he’d claimed it was for an athlete’s nutritional needs—and it worked.
Once Russell checked if a table on the deck was available, the manager led them outside.
The view was wide open to the sea.
“It’s beautiful,” Olivia said in awe.
Russell puffed up with pride. Like a gentleman, he pulled her chair out, and once she sat, he took the seat across from her.
“The seafood here rivals Grand Bleu. Let me know if you need recommendations.”
“Then please do.”
“Seabass fillet.”
“Sounds good.”
While Russell placed the order, Olivia turned her gaze toward the sea. The white tablecloth flapped in the ocean breeze.
Sleek boats practicing for regattas rowed by in rhythm. Time flowed peacefully, like the sea itself.
Once the staff left and before the food arrived, Russell began talking about Princess Anblin’s record-setting victories.
Soon, glasses of amber whiskey and tall sparkling water were set on the table.
“Her Highness’s coach was also a three-time champion. I once played against him myself—though I injured my wrist the day before.”
“Oh no. That athlete must’ve been very lucky.”
“Well, yeah.”
Russell shrugged. Now completely in the zone, he launched into dramatic stories of his past tournaments.
“I once met Edgar in the semifinals.”
“Really?”
Olivia leaned forward, clasping her hands, her eyes wide.
Her sparkling blue eyes, now close, reminded him of the sea’s surface glinting in the sun. Russell straightened his back with pride.
“It was the final set. Deuce.”
“Oh my! So close!”
She leaned even closer, listening intently as if hearing a hero’s legendary tale. Her full attention on him made his heart pound strangely.
“….”
“So what happened next, Coach?”
Olivia imagined Edgar on the green court—soaring into the air and delivering a powerful serve.
