7. That Summer
As in any other year, Exangciras welcomed summer with an unrelenting string of sweltering days. Olivier lay on her bed in nothing but a thin chemise, fanning herself vigorously with a lace fan as she read one of her favorite romance novels.
Immersed in tales of chaebol romances, she gazed in admiration at stories of impoverished low nobles or commoners who suddenly amassed vast fortunes, rose through society, and proposed handsomely to the beautiful ladies of noble houses they had long admired from afar.
"Why isn't there a tycoon like that around me? If he shyly confessed he'd always admired me, I'd say yes in a heartbeat."
Olivier muttered as she set the finished book down on the bed.
"...Lord Literven?"
Emily ventured cautiously, and Olivier furrowed her brow.
"You just ruined the good mood from my book. It's your fault, Emily."
Olivier lay back on the bed, fanning her face and letting out another sigh. There was nothing Emily had done wrong, really, but the oppressive summer heat turned everything into irritation.
Just then, a knock echoed through the room—rap rap.
Olivier's eyes widened as she stared at the door. Moments later, the first-floor servant opened it.
"Miss Olivier, a guest has arrived in the drawing room."
Olivier shot Emily a look asking if she knew who it was, but Emily shook her head. No one visited the Baron Belpharos household unannounced on a scorching summer day like this. Locals knew how brutally hot the midday Shiras region could get and avoided visits altogether. And the grandchildren of the closest Auzer ShirasCount Loren family were still said to be staying in Reisha.
This autumn's grand wedding for Evril was set to be extravagant, with rumors swirling that the Loren count family and the Kingston ducal house were busy compiling guest lists from various nations, renting accommodations, and preparing the ceremony venue and reception ball.
"Who is it?"
Olivier asked.
"Lady Pret."
"No other companions?"
"Yes, just Lady Pret and her maid."
The servant bowed politely and closed the door. With Emily's deft hands helping her into an outing dress, Olivier stood before the mirror.
"How do I look?"
Standing before the full-length mirror in the dressing room, Olivier twisted her body this way and that. What had once been a mature figure mismatched to her youthful face now suited her perfectly as she blossomed into her fifteenth summer. Beneath her beautiful features, her full breasts created a deep, alluring cleavage gathered prettily; her waist was slim, and her hips plump.
"You're beautiful, miss."
At Emily's praise, Olivier finally broke into a satisfied smile.
"I was hoping it wasn't Lord Literven, no matter who it was. Lady Pret, of all people. What brings her to the western continent? Unlike Lady Loren, she has no ties to this region, as far as I know."
Lady Pret, true to her high noble status in Reisha, possessed impeccable taste and aesthetic sense—Olivier had no desire to be critiqued on her appearance or fashion in her presence. With a prim expression, she scrutinized herself in the mirror one last time before heading to the door.
Emily hurried ahead to open it, only to come face-to-face with Olens emerging from his room across the hall. He too was dressed in summer formalwear, evidently on his way downstairs to greet the guest. His pale face fixed on Olivier standing frozen behind Emily.
Olivier quickly averted her gaze, and he strode past down the hall with an expressionless face. As Emily moved to follow, Olivier suddenly grabbed her wrist.
"...Miss?"
"Let's... go down a little later."
Olivier murmured in a dark tone. Emily nodded.
Ever since Olens had returned to the Belpharos baronial house this summer, Olivier had been avoiding being in the same space as him as much as possible.
"Lady Pret."
Olens bowed politely to her seated on the drawing room sofa. Shaylin, who had pushed the steaming hot teacup aside on the table, rose as he entered and greeted him with equal courtesy.
"Lord Belpharos."
He strode in and took a seat, gesturing for her to do the same. Shaylin sat as well.
"I hope you've been well."
Olens asked out of social courtesy, though his feelings toward her had soured since the Founding Festival.
"I've managed. But,"
Shaylin watched as he too pushed the hot tea the servant had brought to a distant spot on the table before continuing.
"You've grown so gaunt you're almost unrecognizable. Is your health...?"
"No, it's just the summer killing my appetite."
Olens shook his head slightly, staring down at the hot tea. Hot tea in this scorching summer? Fruit juice would be better, but the barony's finances under the overseer didn't seem lavish enough to stock perishable fruits just for squeezing juice on a wilting summer day. And serving fruit juice to the woman before him would be too generous, considering her past words.
"Ah, I see. I didn't notice in Reisha, but the moment I set foot in Eliyum, this suffocating heat hit me—truly a different continent."
Shaylin recalled stepping onto the deck of the fast ship three days ago upon arriving in Eliyum. An unimaginable swelter compared to Reisha's mild four seasons. Yet, being away from Reisha felt strangely comforting. She bit the inside of her lip lightly, then glanced up at Olens.
Unlike his pristine winter appearance, Olens now had rough skin, a pallid complexion, sunken eyes, and hollowed cheeks. Shaylin smiled bitterly. She might have contributed to his state, but beneath her heavy makeup thickening her face, she fared no better.
When rumors hit of the Kingston ducal house fully launching wedding preparations for the summer, her breath had caught and the world spun. Boiling with rage, when she heard the Kingston duchess touring Reisha's finest jewelers with Evril in tow, she could no longer stay on the eastern continent. Hesitating on where to go, she chose Eliyum—familiar from her winter visit. Not even the same continent, a ten-day sea voyage away; no way capital news would reach in real-time.
Alone in the large mansion she'd rented on Poenneu Street for the summer, idle thoughts endlessly invaded her mind, impossible to bear. Over the past three days, she'd dragged her maid Laura to every Eliyum landmark and restaurant, sampling bites as Laura worriedly urged, but the dizzying thoughts refused to fade.
Shaylin was suffering a feverish delirium from a long-crushed love on the brink of forced extinction. Come autumn's grand wedding at Bellins Square with envoys from every nation, Gophrid would drift forever beyond her reach. Given his nature and the Kingston house's prestige, post-wedding with emperor and high nobles attending, he'd shun anything tarnishing the family honor. Just as his father had with the current duchess, he'd be outwardly and officially faithful to his wife at his side.
The thought kept her sleepless, mouth parched, appetite gone. Nothing sparked joy; she avoided society buzzing about the Kingston century wedding. Shaylin stared at Olens. He met her gaze without hiding his hostility.
Contrasting his haggard, pale shell, his brown eyes burned with a dark green inferno—the "green-eyed monster" called obsession, devouring his sanity, offering his flesh as sacrifice. The sharp enmity toward her suggested her Founding Festival words lingered like daggers in his heart.
Shaylin averted her eyes. Who could imagine a flawless woman like Evril falling for a mere low noble? Whatever those two schemed since the festival, she pinned fresh hope on the green monster in Olens's eyes.
"Lady Loren,"
As Shaylin spoke, Olens fixed her with sharp interest.
"By the rumors, she seems blissfully happy with the autumn wedding preparations. Never leaving her fiancé Lord Kingston's side. As a soon-to-be-married couple, it's the talk of society."
Olens's brown eyes quivered faintly, then dropped slowly.
Shaylin pressed, watching his reaction.
"How joyful to promise a lifetime with one's love. Especially with a perfect groom like Lord Kingston. They say to shield her from unpleasantness, she personally burns unimportant letters in the fireplace."
Of course, it was a lie. Shaylin speculated Olens might have sent Evril a letter. She scanned his face swiftly. He was shaken. He couldn't know what letters reached Evril, forcibly housed in the Kingston annex since the festival. But he had no way to verify.
"As well known, the Kingston wedding with nobles from every nation is no small ordeal. To ease my dear friend Lady Loren's fatigue, I'm planning to invite her to Eliyum soon for respite—but I worry my letter might end up as fireplace ash too."
Olens sat stone-faced, eyes downcast. Shaylin twisted her lips.
"She probably forgot. The fleeting peace this place offered. At Reisha's dazzling peak, everywhere else feels drab. Even if Lady Loren accepts my invite by luck, once Kingston's wife, she won't move without her husband's leave—this western trip her last."
Olens sat silently, then lifted the distant, still-steaming tea for a sip. Expressionless, he drank hot tea on a summer day, then spoke lowly.
"For weary Lady Loren's sake in wedding prep, I hope Lady Pret's thoughtful consideration reaches her. Rest is needed in all things."
—Click. The drawing room door opened, revealing Olivier.
Shaylin rose, approached, and embraced her warmly.
"Olivier dear, I've missed you so much."
"Shaylin. I'm delighted to see you. Visiting this rural village out of the blue feels like an unexpected gift—I'm thrilled like a child."
As they exchanged greetings, Olivier eyed Olens rigidly straight-backed and expressionless on the sofa. To others, impassive; to her, unmistakably furious. He suddenly stood, brushed past guest Shaylin without even a cursory bow, and exited.
Olens, ever polite before others, worried Olivier with his rudeness.
"First, I must say this quickly—before afternoon heat worsens."
Shaylin's bright voice snapped Olivier from her thoughts.
"Yes?"
Smiling, Shaylin replied to Olivier's question.
"Since coming here, my selfish request is for you to keep me company during my dull Eliyum stay. With Evril busy with wedding prep, Eliyum lacks close confidantes to open my heart to—it's dreadful. No lady to flaunt beauty with at summer night balls. So,"
Shaylin paused; Olivier gazed expectantly. She continued.
"Will you come to Eliyum with me and spend the summer together? Olivier."
At her earnest plea, Olivier's eyes widened in joyful surprise.
Eliyum! On Poenneu Street with endless balls, no less. A perfect invitation to escape sticky Olens all summer.
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