Chapter 2
The ship that departed from Le Mont arrived at its destination after ten hours. It was just when the tilting sun began to dye the sea in shades of red.
The reddish twilight, the vibrant bustle, and the cacophony of mingled voices all unfolded before Olivia and Anne, who stood on the deck, gazing out at the capital of the Kingdom of Britte.
“Look, Anne. It’s Litton!”
Olivia shouted as she pressed down on the brim of her bonnet, flapping in the sea breeze, with both hands. Anne turned her gaze in the direction Olivia’s slender finger was pointing.
In the distance stood Litton’s famous landmark, the clock tower, brilliantly illuminated.
With eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, Olivia took in the city that was gradually drawing closer. Her heart raced. As she looked down at the unfamiliar world, her gaze deepened.
Just when she thought she had died, she had opened her eyes in another world—an all-too-familiar romance fantasy she had once carelessly read.
Even here, she had become Olivia Blanchett, the lowly illegitimate child of a count conceived from an affair, and the nominal wife of the noble Duke Johann Leopold.
Jian remembered that woman’s name.
A woman blinded by jealousy. Pitiful and foolish.
In the original story, Olivia Blanchett, who had never known love, failed in love. Clinging pathetically to a twisted emotion that could hardly be called affection, she never let go and met her downfall in the end.
“For the attempted murder of Clara Sinclair and the solicitation of murder of Diane Brooke and Matilda Fairbanks, the defendant Olivia Blanchett is sentenced to death.”
And so she made up her mind.
This time, she would survive. May luck be with her in this second life.
Passengers disembarked once preparations were complete. After finishing the immigration process, a swarm of porters descended like bees. A boy wearing a newsboy cap dashed toward Olivia and Anne and snatched up their luggage.
“This way, milady!”
To keep up with the quickly disappearing boy, the two hurried after him.
The carriage area was a bit of a walk from the dock. When Olivia and Anne finally reached the front of the carriage, their faces were flushed as they caught their breath.
“Have a pleasant trip, then! That’ll be one penny.”
The boy gave a bright farewell with a clear voice.
“Thank you. I hope you have a lovely day, too.”
Smiling sweetly with flushed cheeks, Olivia pressed two banknotes into the boy’s hand.
“You gave me one extra.”
The boy looked up, sweat beading on his forehead, and tried to return the penny.
“There were two bags, weren’t there?”
The boy gave a sheepish smile, folded the bills carefully, tucked them into his inner pocket, and dashed back into the crowd.
As the porter disappeared from view, Olivia turned her attention to the coachman, not noticing Anne’s wide eyes.
“Are we leaving right away?”
“We leave when the carriage is full.”
“How much would it cost to rent the whole thing? I’ll pay double. I’m tired and would like to get to the hotel quickly.”
The coachman readily agreed at Olivia’s gentle smile and opened the door.
“Where to, miss?”
“Please take us to the Lancelot Hotel.”
The carriage soon departed, and Anne quietly studied Olivia sitting across from her.
Her lady was still gazing absentmindedly out the window, just like she had on the deck. Even as the sun’s golden light faded behind the harbor of Litton, she didn’t take her eyes away from the view.
The Olivia Anne knew had never once handled money. Having been confined in the count’s estate, there had never been a need, and after marrying Duke Johann Leopold, it was always the duke’s secretary who settled her expenses with merchants.
That’s why Anne had been shocked by her lady’s natural behavior just now.
Paying the porter, haggling with the coachman—none of it was anything Olivia would normally do. But there was something human, something ordinary in it, and Anne felt both relieved and uneasy. It reminded her of the saying: people change before they die.
Anne quickly shook her head to dispel the ominous thought.
The two arrived at the hotel and, exhausted from the trip, prepared for bed right after dinner.
Anne, having changed into her nightgown, gently brushed Olivia’s rich brown hair and tied it back into a neat bundle.
“Good night, Anne.”
Olivia’s voice was already drowsy with sleep.
“Sweet dreams, milady,” Anne whispered.
If her mother, once the head maid of the Blanchett household, had seen this, she would’ve raised a ruckus. But since her mother wasn’t here, Anne decided not to worry.
After nearly drowning in the lake and surviving by a miracle, Olivia had nightmares whenever it rained. If Anne ran to her after hearing her screams, she’d find her drenched in sweat.
“Anne, will you sleep with me?”
The desperate voice, coming from Olivia’s pale face, made it impossible to refuse. And so the two of them fell asleep in the same bed.
She didn’t know how long she had slept. The soft breeze, carrying the floral scent from the hotel’s garden, wafted in through the open window. The morning air brushed her cheeks and gently woke Olivia.
In the stillness of a world asleep, Olivia cautiously rose and walked to the window. A morning star twinkled in the clear blue sky, like diluted indigo ink.
The sky was not so different from the one she knew. Perhaps, at the end of that same sky, Jian’s world still existed.
“Is he safe?”
As she recalled the man who used to ruffle Jian’s hair with his large hands and smile, she felt an overwhelming longing.
“Milady?”
Startled by Anne’s voice behind her, Olivia instinctively turned. Anne, now sitting up, was watching her.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“It wasn’t you. The breeze was just too lovely. That’s what woke me. Anne, want to come see?”
Olivia smiled and beckoned. Anne smoothed her tousled hair, slipped on her slippers, and stood beside her lady.
“I really love this time of day. And sunset too. It’s like admiring the world’s most dreamlike painting. Look, isn’t it amazing?”
The boundary between the gaslight’s orange glow and the pale dawn was dissolving. From far in the distance—perhaps the sea where their ship had docked—the red hues of the rising sun began painting the world.
“It’s truly… beautiful.”
The two stood by the window for a while, unmoving.
Recently, Johann Leopold had acquired a steel company. Sitting in his office chair, he smoked a cigar, irritably scanning the acquisition contract.
Though he had obtained the company at a fair price, a minor fish had muddied the waters, forcing him to pay ten thousand pounds more than planned.
In other words, Johann was in a foul mood, and his aide, Maurice, who had to make a report to him, was in a very uncomfortable position.
After taking a deep breath, Maurice began to speak.
“Regarding Lady Olivia Leopold—cough. Correction: Miss Olivia Blanchett.”
Their eyes met—Johann’s gaze fierce under his furrowed brow. Maurice cleared his throat again and hesitantly continued.
“Miss Blanchett is currently…”
He couldn’t finish. Johann’s glare, clearly saying hurry up and get lost, silenced him. Instead of speaking, Maurice placed a photograph on the desk and stepped back.
Johann picked it up and assessed the situation.
The photo showed two women entering a building. One was unmistakably his ex-wife, but something else in the photo had caught Johann’s attention.
When Johann’s fierce gaze shot up like a spear, Maurice stammered.
“As you can see, she’s currently… staying at the L-Lancelot Hotel.”
“Here?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Silence fell.
After a few seconds, Johann’s eyes drifted back to the photo. He let out a shallow sigh and ran a hand through his hair out of habit. His eyes turned to the ceiling before he closed them.
Was she staying out of sight just to provoke him? Out of all the hotels in the tourist city—why that one?
It couldn’t possibly be coincidence that it was Edgar Lancaster Lancelot’s hotel.
So that’s what this was.
A distinct scowl formed on Johann’s otherwise expressionless face.
This answered the question of why she had come to Britte with no ties to the region.
Edgar.
Already irritated by the mess Edgar had made during the steel acquisition, now even his ex-wife was involved, and Johann’s mood sank to the gutter.
How had Edgar found out about the secretly arranged deal?
Just like Johann planted spies, Edgar must have placed people near him too—since when?
The cigar in Johann’s hand burned down, ash dropping onto the desk. Once suspicion had been planted, the branches of paranoia spread rapidly.
Blood doesn’t lie, is that it?
Johann opened his eyes.
“Keep a close watch on the two of them. I want to know what they’re up to.”
He waved Maurice off and looked again at the photo.
Olivia.
Perhaps he had divorced her too easily. He should have been more methodical, more cautious in letting her go.
A woman who had claimed she couldn’t live without his love—if she was the one to mention divorce, there must have been something more.
Johann now felt the need to consider what that might have been—what he had overlooked.
Morning dawned on the third day at the Lancelot Hotel.
Olivia and Anne slept in until their bodies naturally woke. When they got hungry, they went down to the first-floor cafeteria for a late breakfast-lunch.
Anne sometimes worried this peaceful life would turn them into lazy bears. But the moment the elaborate three-tier tray arrived, she set her worries aside and picked up her fork.
Following Anne’s lead, Olivia eagerly picked up her cutlery. She had to live this life now. As Olivia Blanchett—not herself anymore.
She knew eyes and ears were watching. For now, that alone was enough.
Spring had arrived, and strawberries were piled high on dessert plates, giving off a sweet scent.
“How did you find such a wonderful place, milady?”
Olivia had devoured the tourist guidebook for Litton while still on the ship. Smiling, she answered just as she was about to pop a large strawberry dipped in whipped cream into her mouth.
“They say this place has the best fraisier in Litton.”
She beamed and munched on the strawberry.
In Anne’s eyes, her lady looked like the happiest person in the world at that moment. Anne took a spoonful of strawberry pudding. Sweetness spread across her tongue.
Watching her lady enjoy the dessert—as always, still fond of sweets—Anne thought to herself that she was glad some things hadn’t changed.
After clearing the now-empty tray and tidying the table, the two sipped coffee and black tea with milk and honey.
It was a peaceful afternoon. Soft piano music played from the phonograph, and the lazy spring sunlight streamed in.
The once-quiet cafeteria was now filling with guests who had finished lunch and come for tea.
That was when a group of noblewomen entered. One of them, who had been discussing her dress for the Rose Ball, suddenly gasped.
“Oh my, isn’t that her? The Duchess of Leopold!”
All eyes turned to where her fan pointed.
There, by the window bathed in golden sunlight, sat a woman drinking tea and laughing with her maid.
“Good heavens!”
It was unmistakably Olivia Blanchett.
