Edgar’s Catalina arrived safely at LeMon Port.
It was 6 a.m. on the 16th.
They had a quick breakfast of sandwiches and coffee in the waiting lounge at LeMon Station while waiting for the train.
The train, which arrived precisely at 7 a.m., reached Leiden Central Station at 4 p.m.
Everything went smoothly, like a sailboat with a favorable wind.
“Finish your errands and come to the hotel.”
Gerald opened the carriage door and spoke to Anne.
“Thank you. Truly, thank you so much.”
Anne bowed deeply twice, then quickly climbed into the carriage.
Though there was still time, she was in a rush. The carriage began rolling toward the main Patex store.
Edgar gave the order to depart only after he saw the maid’s carriage disappear from view.
What could possibly go wrong? Unless something unexpected happened, the maid who went to retrieve Johan’s birthday gift would be back.
It was supposed to be a simple mission.
But even the simplest-looking tasks always held the potential for unexpected complications.
“Excuse me—wait! Why are we turning?”
About ten minutes into the ride, Anne shouted, startled as she looked out the window at the city streets.
Gerald had told her the Patex store was straight ahead along the main road, yet the carriage had suddenly taken a different turn.
“That road’s closed off. They’re doing tram line repairs. You visiting? Where you from?”
Flustered, Anne answered the coachman’s question with a question of her own.
“How much longer will it take if we go this way?”
“Only about ten minutes more. Don’t worry.”
At that, Anne took out her pocket watch. 4:20 p.m. Still alright.
Trying to calm down, she looked back out the window—only to immediately call for the coachman again.
“W-what’s happening now?”
The carriage was slowing and finally came to a complete stop.
“Oh, come on,” the coachman muttered, spitting on the ground. He seemed to be talking with someone outside.
A small side window next to the coachman burst open.
“The Queen’s passing through up ahead. The road’s been blocked. You gonna wait it out, or hop out and run?”
Having heard the situation from Gerald, the coachman looked at her awkwardly.
Anne opened the lid of her pocket watch. 4:45 p.m.
“What would you do?”
“Me? I’d run for it.”
Without hesitation, Anne flung open the door and bolted from the carriage.
A crowd had gathered to catch a glimpse of the Queen—people swarmed like clouds.
Her worn-out bag kept bumping into people waving Rondos flags.
Clutching the bag tightly to her chest, Anne ran without looking back.
Then—she collided with someone.
Running at full speed, she lost her balance and fell backward.
“Oh no, are you okay?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. Her vision blurred, but as she blinked, a hand reached out to her.
She grabbed it without thinking and rose shakily to her feet.
Then she slowly lifted her head.
The person gasped.
“Wait—Anne? Is that you?”
It was a maid from Greathill. Anne’s eyes widened.
She was the same maid who used to torment Anne under Diane Brooke, stirring up the others against her.
But what was more shocking than seeing her again was what the maid held in her hand: a deep navy-blue envelope.
The golden, embossed lettering in the center shimmered under the fading sunlight.
Patex.
Anne felt like her heart had stopped.
Edgar was seated in a velvet armchair, reviewing documents about the International Bank with Gerald.
On the side table sat a glass of whiskey with ice.
After skimming through the documents, Edgar leaned back, stretched slightly, and reached for his glass.
As the cold liquor slid down his throat, his slow gaze scanned the room.
Every time he visited Leiden, he made a point of staying in this room at the Leopold Hotel—a room as minimalist as Johan’s personality.
Unlike the lavish Lancelot Hotel, it was coldly modern.
“That painting… not bad,” Edgar remarked.
Gerald, his nose buried in the report, turned his head and looked at the large painting hanging on the white wall at the foot of the bed. He clicked his tongue.
Splashes of color seemingly thrown randomly—no discernible form or structure. Just bright colors everywhere.
“Our dog Poppy could make better art just walking through paint. Want to see sometime?”
Edgar chuckled. Poppy was Gerald’s second greatest love, right after his wife.
Edgar’s gaze slid from the painting to the large wall clock.
The reflection on the glass face, tinted orange by the setting sun, made him narrow his eyes.
5:45 p.m. The maid should have returned by now.
Then again, it had been a while since she’d visited her hometown. She might have met a friend—that was understandable.
Just as Edgar lowered his glass and glanced back at the documents, the door burst open without even a knock.
It was Olivia’s maid.
She looked like she was about to cry.
“Why didn’t you explain the situation and ask her to return it?”
Gerald, having heard the full story, asked with a puzzled expression.
“That’s not the kind of person she is. If anything, she’d make an even bigger scene. She’d probably tip off the newspapers. I heard she was paid quite a bit.”
Despite being on the verge of tears, anger burned in her voice when she spoke about the other maid.
“Then… it’s over, isn’t it?”
“N-no! Not yet. Maybe not.”
Anne shook her head fiercely in response to Gerald’s words.
“Wh-what’s that?”
“Oh, this? It’s the master’s watch, the one he sent for repair. And this—well, I think it’s his birthday gift. I dropped by to pick it up since they said it was being delivered to Greathill.”
Anne recalled her conversation with the maid, Matilda.
“She didn’t know who the gift was from. So maybe…”
Her voice trembled as she trailed off.
Edgar gave a small nod.
“Wh-what do we do now? Miss Olivia’s going to be humiliated again. It’s all my fault. I should’ve told her earlier… It’s because of me…”
Her shoulders shook, and finally, the tears fell.
“Should I sneak in and try to switch it? The gift—it’s something she ordered herself. Would that be… theft?”
Tears fell onto her clenched hands.
Edgar’s gaze drifted away from her and back to the modern painting on the wall. He was irritated.
Soon, Olivia would be labeled a shameless woman who dared to send a romantic gift and love letter to her ex-husband—on his birthday, no less—despite him being engaged.
Damn Patex.
Yes, it was a gift she’d ordered before the divorce.
But the high society and tabloids wouldn’t care about such details.
They didn’t value truth—they thrived on scandal.
It would also tarnish Edgar’s carefully curated image as the man who had tamed the “first woman to break the sacred rules.”
He turned his head slowly. The sun was setting beyond the large window.
A deep bluish-purple dusk fell over the bright cityscape.
Edgar closed his eyes briefly, then looked at the wall clock.
6:15 p.m. The banquet had just begun.
Without a word, Edgar stood from his seat.
“Gerald.”
“Yes, sir?”
As he walked toward the bar cart, Edgar said,
“Prepare the carriage.”
“Where to… Wait. No. Sir—surely not?”
Edgar smirked silently. Gerald inhaled sharply, appalled.
“You’re not seriously going there, are you?”
“Maybe.”
Edgar stopped in front of the cart and gazed at the liquor bottles. He hated troublesome things.
“But it’s been a while. I suddenly feel like seeing her.”
His tone was soft. Like someone reminiscing about a long-lost lover.
“No! Absolutely not, sir!”
Ignoring Gerald’s protest, Edgar casually reached into his pocket and picked up a bottle of champagne.
“Relax. It’s not like they’ll throw me out.”
He smirked as he looked down at the smooth silver label.
“Wrap it nicely. Add a pretty ribbon, too.”
Even if he was crashing the birthday party, he still wanted his gift to look presentable.
Moments later, the carriage carrying Edgar—now dressed formally—began to move.
He’s lost it. He’s actually gone mad. That place of all places…
Gerald stood frozen, staring at the carriage disappearing toward Greathill.
Greathill’s grand garden lit up with dazzling lights. It had been a year since the last celebration of Duke Leopold’s birthday.
Guests had been arriving since early evening.
Servants stacked the gifts brought by attendants neatly in front of the fireplace.
The head butler, checking the pyramid of gifts, moved toward the banquet hall.
He inspected the twelve-course dinner table setup, correcting anything out of place. His instructions were relayed to the kitchen below.
The kitchen was in chaos—every hand was needed.
And Matilda, who had been sent on an errand, was still not back.
“That damn girl always disappears at times like this.”
While the other maids cursed and sweated, Matilda stood in front of the Leopold Hotel.
She had followed Anne.
Maybe that idiot duchess had come too.
Anne had denied it, of course—but who could believe her?
To confirm it with her own eyes, she had hurriedly grabbed a carriage and followed her.
Just as I thought.
How much do maids even get paid?
Watching Anne rush through the front doors of the Leopold Hotel, Matilda scoffed.
There was no doubt that illegitimate brat had come too.
Olivia Blanchett appears in Leiden on her ex-husband’s birthday—is it a provocation against Princess Kranz? Or lingering feelings for the Duke?
Just imagining the article made her giddy.
How much should I ask for?
Gleefully fantasizing about haggling with the tabloids, Matilda suddenly gasped and ran toward the nearest carriage stop.
She had completely forgotten she was supposed to be running an errand.
She finally remembered the butler’s strict warning: the master needed to wear that watch on time. She had to get back.
