A splendid four-horse carriage made a wide turn at the intersection and entered the central avenue. It was a carriage painted a refined purple, a color that only the royal family had been permitted to use hundreds of years ago.
Hackney carriages that had been speeding up in hopes of picking up even one more passenger lost all fighting spirit at the sight of the top-class carriage drawn by four sleek thoroughbreds and yielded the road.
The coachmen of noble houses were no less on edge. Spotting the family crest that gleamed with unusual brilliance, they slowed their horses with a crack of the whip before their masters even ordered it.
For it was the crest of House d’Angpierre, whose name was far more precious than that of their own masters.
The carriage swung wide to the right around the golden fountain of the central plaza and came to a halt in front of a luxury apartment in the 8th District of Eijon.
Between sturdy valets lined up on either side, a beautiful young man emerged from within the carriage.
He was dressed in a black suit tailored to fit his form, with a frock coat draped over his shoulders, its collar turned up sharply.
The silk cravat bearing a red pattern, the white lambskin gloves, and the ebony cane with a gilded head were all clearly top-class items.
“It’s Marquis Olivier d’Angpierre!”
*Eijon Living*, *Eijon Weekly Scoop!*, *Art-Eijon*, *Life and Art*, *Celebrity Stories*……
The reporters swarmed in, and in an instant, the surroundings turned into utter chaos.
“My lord, did you see Charlotte Garel’s interview? Are the two of you truly in a relationship?”
The young man merely wore a tepid smile, offering no particular answer. Beneath the pouring morning sunlight, his already excessively handsome face and dark blond hair shone with a holy radiance.
“We decline interviews. Move aside!”
His secretary, Henri, who had quickly followed after him, waved his arms, but the reporters did not give up and clung tenaciously.
“Did you perhaps help her secure the lead actress’s role?”
“Have you settled your relationship with René Ricardo? What is your response to this latest dating rumor?”
“Countess Erju is said to have expressed regret after reading this morning’s article!”
“The princess of the Republic of Morvaux named Lord Olivier d’Angpierre as the man she ‘absolutely wants to date before she dies.’ Do you have any intention of meeting her?”
The women’s names mentioned in rapid succession were as devoid of substance as the perfectly fabricated content. Among the countless names they believed, he hadn’t done a thing with any of them, yet what an uproar. Olivier hid his deep disgust and smiled serenely.
“What is the meaning of that smile?”
As he smiled ambiguously, as though he might answer yet might not, the reporters grew frantic and stamped their feet. Some threw out even more provocative questions.
“There is also an eyewitness account of the two of you kissing at a salon last week.”
“There’s even a story that you ordered a fur coat under a false name at Montchamp Department Store! Is it true?”
Utterly absurd nonsense……
That too was completely unfounded, but Olivier did not bother to deny it and simply let it be. The more rumors spread, the better, so he hoped the reporters would cause even more of a stir.
Olivier d’Angpierre was a man who read every newspaper published daily in Eijon cover to cover. Even the filthy third-rate scandal rags that were arguably dirtier than floor rags.
In order to pick and choose suitably from those desperately trying to climb aboard the d’Angpierre name, it was important to know this game inside and out while pretending ignorance.
Treating the reporters as strangers, as though he had never seen them before and had no particular interest, was also an act thoroughly laden with calculation.
He knew which organizations the chattering reporters in front of his home belonged to, roughly how many years they had worked, with whom they held grudges within their organizations……
…and even whether or not they had personal debts. If they knew that he had grasped all of this, they would faint in shock.
At times he deliberately took the bait, and when scandals grew too filthy, he would deny them moderately and push them away.
“We’ve heard you’ve been investing in diamond mines these days. Did you also gift diamonds to Charlotte Garel?”
To fan the flames of rumor, he could offer an appropriate response. For instance, that he was magnanimous enough to bestow a diamond necklace upon a bold rookie actress.
Of course, he had not the slightest intention of continuing the relationship further. He detested becoming deeply entangled with anyone.
“Ah, Charlotte Garel. I did share a meal with her last week.”
He had spoken but a single word, yet the surroundings fell silent in an instant. The reporters’ wide eyes waited to devour him.
“As for the diamond gift, well…”
His ambiguous smile made it obvious that the reporters were beginning to boil over. As brazenly as one caught with a humiliating weakness too mortifying to utter. Holding a secretive smile, he swept his gaze around the surroundings……
“You’ll know if you watch tonight’s performance.”
Putting on a roguishly troubled expression, Olivier passed the reporters and disappeared into the building in an instant.
“Huh……?”
“What time is tonight’s performance!”
“Call a carriage!”
The reporters, who had been momentarily bewildered, soon scattered in all directions, shouting at the top of their lungs.
* * *
Having done nothing but silly things since early morning, he was thoroughly exhausted.
“Send it quickly. It wouldn’t be bad for them to see you receiving it in front of the reporters.”
Handing his gloves and cane to a servant, Olivier collapsed onto the sofa and loosened his cravat.
Henri, who had followed him in and been busily moving about, asked while holding a notepad.
“And the bouquet?”
“Something appropriately small, enough that she won’t overstep her bounds again. Just my name on the card. Write that it’s for a ‘friend.’ Make it look like a mere casual greeting. The rest of the delusions are her own affair.”
“Understood.”
After Henri quickly vanished beyond the living room, Olivier leisurely took out a cigar, gauging what would unfold hereafter.
Eijon’s press companies were needlessly diligent, and the Grand Theater was not far from here. By now, they would be laying siege to meet Charlotte, who had just arrived at the theater for work.
They would be swarming like bees for follow-up coverage……
He bit off the end of the cigar—tock—lit it, and inhaled, his mind growing clearer. Gazing blankly at the rising smoke, Olivier calmly organized his thoughts.
Tonight’s tickets would be bought up in droves by the press. For a while, there would be sold-out crowds. Given the scale of the scandal, additional performances were entirely possible.
As a patron of the troupe, it was satisfying to see the performances do well and the troupe’s scale grow.
In truth, a portion of the profits was supposed to return to House d’Angpierre as shares, but for now, he refrained from taking them under the pretext of noblesse oblige.
It might prove useful someday.
Reporters with eyes bloodshot from the competition for scoops, waiting to see whether Olivier d’Angpierre would appear at the theater or not, would witness the moment Charlotte emerged wearing a diamond necklace at the Grand Theater tonight.
The jewelers would be packed the moment the performance ended, and gentlemen would repeatedly emphasize that they wanted the exact same design, lining up orders one after another.
To their wives, to secret paramours, or to the women they intended to propose to. They would present the diamond necklaces and chatter on about it being “the most coveted fashion item in Eijon, obtained with great difficulty” or some such.
Next was the stock exchange.
There were inevitably those who caught the scent of money a little earlier. Such people would station their servants in front of the stock exchange all night long instead of going to the theater tonight.
The stock exchange operated on a first-come, first-served basis the moment it opened each morning, and because a daily purchase limit was set, they knew that arriving right at opening time would already be too late.
Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, after the market closed, he planned to estimate how much the mining company stock he had bought last month had risen.
“……Ha.”
From his lips, which were now exhaling smoke without any expression, a shallow sigh of weariness leaked out.
By not particularly blocking the flood of scandals, his name had instead ended up earning even more enormous sums of money.
In truth, Olivier had no particular interest in investments or stocks. It was as uninteresting to him as women were.
If he were to say that all of this was actually solely to avoid, even for a moment, the nagging of his grandmother, Elenore d’Angpierre…… who on earth would believe him?
He found it somewhat laughable himself, why he lived this way, and having done such ridiculous things for several years now, he was slowly losing interest.
But Olivier had no particularly sharp solutions. He could avoid his grandmother’s marriage prodding while also earning her a decent amount of money. It would not be an overstatement to call it the best choice for simply dragging things out.
If he were to antagonize her, she might well collapse on the spot. She was a grand lady with an exceptional obsession for her grandson, after all.
Right…… All’s well that ends well.
The woman named Charlotte Garel, with whom he had exchanged no more than a few words at a salon, would likely lose sleep believing her provocation had succeeded.
The diamond jeweler, the head of the theater company, those who would end up paying a hefty sum to give splendid gifts, those who would profit from stocks, and the reporters who had landed an exclusive scoop would all be equally elated.
As the price for giving a modicum of attention, the results were not bad. Yes, it was a fairly decent transaction.