The Willow Mansion
A slight pressure touched the tip of her foot. Even through the thick leather of her shoe, the sensation of the contact was dense and intimate, but Olivia feigned ignorance and replied with nonchalance.
"I don't accept business cards. Despite appearances, I am a practitioner of free love."
"Oh?"
Ezekiel chuckled and increased the pressure of his foot. Olivia arched an eyebrow, as if someone had stepped on her favorite pair of shoes. Ignoring her attitude, he asked with a lingering smile.
"So, are you practicing this 'free love' while leaving your fiancé to his own devices?"
His expression remained fixed in that same smile, making it impossible for Olivia to discern whether Ezekiel was merely trying to provoke her, or if he was genuinely bothered or angry.
"Olivia."
There was no romance in the way he spoke her name—only a sense of revulsion. Olivia let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"The only one who thinks there's an engagement is that man himself."
"And not because you seduced him with that innocent face of yours?"
"He has a magnificent body and face, but he was no fun as a game partner. I dislike boring people."
She leaned toward Ezekiel as she spoke. The pressure from Ezekiel’s foot eased, then shifted, sliding slightly further inward.
Ankle tangled with ankle. It seemed he was pleased with her answer. He smiled.
"True. You aren't the type of woman to be satisfied as a mere noblewoman from the borderlands."
"Indeed. I had enough of a boring life in my childhood. While I am grateful to the late Count, I cannot spend the rest of my life living like a nun simply out of gratitude."
Olivia said this, then pulled her body back to lean against the chair. With their ankles still pressed together, she spoke as if feigning annoyance.
"And I have no intention of selling my life for something as trivial as money. I have inherited enough wealth. I wish you would stop talking about business cards. It is you I am interested in."
"Because I am a good game partner?"
"And because there is much to be gained if I win."
Ezekiel grinned.
"Even if you lose, you won't suffer a loss."
"That remains to be seen."
At that moment, the amuse-bouche arrived. A waiter approached with a cautious, apologetic demeanor, cleared the nuts from the table, and placed a small, bite-sized tart in front of each of them. Olivia had not a shred of appetite, but she could not show it. As she picked up the tart and put it in her mouth, it crumbled, releasing the fragrant scent of figs and the salty tang of cheese.
"How is the taste?"
"Excellent."
"Good. I told the chef to pay close attention."
Ezekiel said. Only then could Olivia ask the question that had been on her mind from the start.
"By the way, where are we? It is only natural that you would have several mansions within the capital, but..."
"Are you asking for the name of the building, or its history?"
"Both. I am curious how you refer to it."
"Well, neither is particularly noteworthy. I usually call it the Willow Mansion. My grandfather or great-grandfather must have purchased it, and it has been used for secret meetings ever since."
It was clear that these "secret meetings" were not political in nature. The atmosphere was far too romantic for that.
"Is this where you kept your former mistresses?"
"Are you jealous?"
"No. I only thought that if that were the case, I would have to decline any future invitations."
"Then where would you meet me?"
"I told you. I am a practitioner of free love."
The tart plates were cleared, and the entrée, an escargot soup, was served. Olivia barely touched it, taking a spoonful or two. Ezekiel continued his meal with a relaxed air and spoke.
"Why don't you think about that after you win the game? Once you lose, you might find yourself grateful for even such a position."
"I don't think that will be the case, at least not yet."
"An ambitious woman is certainly charming. But moderation is key. If your desire is too large for your vessel, you eventually lose even that charm. I detest stupid women."
"I have no intention of competing with Princess Roella. It is the Princess who insists on competing with me."
"Haha."
As Olivia spoke in a bored tone, Ezekiel let out a loud laugh, raised his wine glass, and took a sip. He looked at Olivia with a smiling face, his eyes crinkling as if he were truly amused.
"That is true. Roella is foolish. She insists on making herself a comparison to you. In reality, it isn't even a fight."
"Haa."
"Is that why you aren't holding your salon? Without even offering an explanation?"
"Because the opponent I must fight is someone else."
Ezekiel tilted his head slightly.
The third course, the main dish, arrived. It was a tender, thick beef steak, grilled to perfection. Olivia, holding a knife sharpened so keenly that it sliced through the meat without the slightest resistance, suddenly recalled her past life. During her confinement by Ezekiel, she had never once used a knife during meals. Unless it was something she could bite into, everything was always served pre-cut into bite-sized pieces. Only now did she wonder if that was to prevent self-harm, or to keep her from grabbing a knife and attacking him.
A mocking laugh escaped her lips. Ezekiel was still watching her. Olivia set down the knife, narrowed her eyes, and looked at him.
"Are you curious who it is?"
"Somewhat."
"First, it is you."
"Aha."
"And next, it is Lady Zilke."
Ezekiel smiled.
"That woman shouldn't be of any consequence."
"She likely has a patron as well."
"Some eccentric rich person who believes in civil rights, no doubt. Or perhaps an old man who has devoted his life to literature."
"Then it wouldn't matter if her salon were to collapse."
He fell silent for a moment.
It was the late Duke—Ezekiel’s father—who had brought Lady Zilke and sponsored her to open the salon. Although the management had been handed over to Helmut, Ezekiel was well aware of the role Zilke’s salon played. Its importance had diminished significantly since the time she was brought in. Over a decade ago, the late Duke had judged that the greatest threats after the Royalist faction would be radical republicans or anarchists.
Even if one were to seize the throne through marriage, legitimacy would inevitably be shaken if the dynasty changed. However, as long as Roella, the sole heir to the throne, did not plot treason, the Royalist faction had no focal point. If that were the case, the anti-Schwaben forces would have no choice but to shift toward dismantling the Imperial family itself.
But after ten years of grasping the flow of ideology and monitoring key figures through Zilke’s salon, Ezekiel had concluded that there was no longer any need to worry about them. The ideas that had once swept through writers and intellectuals like a fever had shattered and scattered without ever being synthesized, and like a storm in a teacup, they had failed to spread outward. Looking back, he felt the late Duke’s concerns might have been excessive.
More than that, he was bothered by the fact that Olivia spoke as if she knew who Zilke’s patron was. For the first time, her words had left his thoughts in disarray. Ezekiel watched her with a cautious gaze. Olivia continued her meal with a nonchalant air, as if she hadn't said anything of particular importance.
"Your intelligence is good."
"You didn't think I would just sit back and do nothing after being attacked, did you?"
"No. It's excellent."
He had already received reports that the source of the malicious rumors about Laila was Zilke. Zilke had not wanted the Schwaben faction to know about this, but there had been no need to hide it from Caroline.
Ezekiel smiled. This ambitious woman would never be satisfied with merely becoming a socialite. Finding out who Zilke worked for meant that she was interested in politics as well.
"Do you think you can enter the Schwaben estate?"
"Do not misunderstand. I told you clearly that I have no intention of competing with Princess Roella. Such a fight wouldn't even be valid."
Olivia set down her fork, glanced around the room, and rinsed her mouth with wine.
"It is beautiful, but I do not like this place. That is all."
She spoke with the literal meaning of her words. Her goal was the annex of the Schwaben estate.
And Ezekiel took that to mean she wanted to become the mistress who held real power.