Once, her father, Count Rosier, had declared that Theodore would ruin his daughter’s life.

Yvonne hoped that statement would prove true. For someone like her now, catastrophe would be a loving salvation.

She foolishly waited for a day that would never come.

She waited for Theodore to return alive even now and drive her life to ruin, thereby rescuing her from this hell.

Even knowing she could never receive a response from someone already dead, she couldn’t stop waiting.

Because without even that futile hope, her life was nothing but darkness.

But even Yvonne couldn’t possibly know.

Her first love whom she thought was dead. Theodore Denver, her only and futile hope.

That he would actually appear before her again.

⁕⁕⁕

The coachman was killing time idly, reading a newspaper.

Then he suddenly took out a tobacco leaf from his inner pocket, put it in his mouth, and casually unfolded the newspaper again.

“Hugo Wenner…… The capital is buzzing with talk about how great a person he is.”

While he was chewing on the tobacco leaf with his eyes fixed on the newspaper article, he heard the rusty joints of the iron gate scraping against each other uncomfortably.

The coachman suddenly looked up and saw Yvonne emerging from the abandoned hunting ground.

He hastily folded the newspaper, tossed it onto the driver’s seat, and stepped forward to greet his mistress.

“Madam, you could have taken your time.”

The middle-aged coachman’s voice had a warm quality to it.

Yvonne smiled gently at him and shook her head.

“We should head to the hotel now. Thank you for waiting, Thomson.”

“Not at all, please don’t say that. It’s my job.”

“……”

“But madam, perhaps……”

The coachman trailed off as he noticed Yvonne’s reddened eyes.

He almost asked if she had been crying but decided against it. He didn’t want to embarrass her with unnecessary meddling.

“……Shall we go straight to the hotel?”

The coachman naturally changed the subject as he opened the carriage door.

Yvonne calmly nodded and got into the carriage.

Since the abandoned hunting ground was originally within the hotel grounds, it didn’t take long to reach the path leading to the back entrance.

After entering the tree-lined street and traveling for about 10 minutes, the massive Rosier Hotel building and its back garden landscape began to unfold.

As the embroidered flower beds planted with lavender and the crimson statues came fully into view, the carriage approached a tall iron gate.

Just as the carriage carrying Yvonne was entering the hotel’s back entrance…

At that moment, a black automobile leaving the Rosier Hotel passed by on the opposite road.

⁕⁕⁕

The morning sunlight shattered brilliantly on the waves of the Saint River.

The factories lined up across the river seemed to have just started operating, gradually emitting smoke.

The black automobile that had been driving along the morning scenery of the capital stretching diligently finally left the riverside road.

After entering Upper Side and driving continuously to the center of 3rd Avenue, it briefly stopped in front of a massive iron gate of a mansion.

Soon, two men who appeared to be security guards came running, and as they each took hold of the iron gates twice the height of a tall man and pushed them open with force, the automobile entered with familiarity.

From that point on, a vast expanse of pale green plain stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Following a path where massive trees had grown densely in the middle, the automobile drove for quite some time before finally stopping in front of a building so enormous it was overwhelming at first sight.

Soon after, the back door of the car opened and someone emerged.

It was a man wearing a light gray suit with round silver-rimmed glasses, holding a brown briefcase in one hand.

He greeted the driver briefly and immediately walked toward the mansion’s main entrance.

Just as he was about to knock on the golden knocker, it happened.

Bang—!

Suddenly, a heavy gunshot rang out along with a single cry of a bird.

The man removed his hand from the knocker, tilted his head in confusion, and then headed toward the back garden of the mansion.

After walking for quite some time, he finally reached the back garden, which, like the garden that had first greeted him, had a vast expanse of pale green grounds spread out widely.

The only difference from the garden landscape was that a beautiful man stood in the middle of that vast plain.

His face, with naturally tousled black hair, drew elegant curves like a statue carved after a Greek god’s appearance, while his tall stature below exuded fierce wildness despite choosing the rather modest fashion of a white shirt, navy blue scarf, and grayish-brown trousers.

Broad shoulders, sturdy frame, thick forearms with prominently bulging tendons beneath carelessly rolled-up shirt sleeves, and a Winchester rifle held in his leather-gloved hand.

He was Hugo Wenner, the new owner of this grand mansion.

After catching his breath briefly, Hugo took out a small golden metal box from his shirt pocket and put a tobacco leaf from inside into his mouth. Then he aimed the Winchester rifle at the sky again and shouted.

“Pull!”

At that signal, a servant standing far away immediately pulled a machine handle.

Simultaneously, as a bird soared high into the sky, another gunshot echoed through the back garden.

Bang—!

The bird fell helplessly to the ground as if it had never taken flight.

Just as Hugo was looking into the distance, carefully observing the scene, a familiar voice came from behind him.

“The wealthy Hugo Wenner enjoying cheap tobacco leaves instead of premium cigars. If the nobles of Upper Side knew this fact, they would all faint in surprise.”

Hugo casually turned around to check who it was and quietly murmured the man’s name.

“James.”

The man Hugo called James was the one who had just arrived at the mansion by automobile.

He was also a comrade who had shared life and death with Hugo on the battlefield long ago, and a loyal secretary who had stayed by his side since Hugo started his first business in the New World after the war ended.

Hugo spat out the tobacco leaf onto the lawn, slowly pulled off the tip of his right glove with his teeth, and continued speaking.

“Strangely, this is the one habit I can’t seem to break.”

Reaching for tobacco leaves while hunting was Hugo’s long-standing habit.

He had unconsciously copied the behavior of the hunting ground keeper who had taught him in his childhood, and eventually, whenever he heard gunshots, tobacco leaves naturally came to mind.

Hugo picked up a teacup that a housekeeper had left on an outdoor table earlier and looked at James.

“Was there some urgent business I don’t know about this morning?”

He seemed to gauge this from James’s attire.

“Business, yes. But not business you’re unaware of, sir.”

James said as he moved a bit closer to Hugo.

“I’m on my way back from the Rosier Hotel. I went to deliver the proposal you wrote yesterday.”

Though grandly named a proposal, its contents were not actually of great benefit to Hugo’s business.

It was about acquiring an unremarkable abandoned hunting ground owned by the Rosier Hotel, but the owner’s refusal had been extremely firm.

Yet Hugo’s determination was equally unyielding, so James had no choice but to send another acquisition proposal to the Rosier Hotel.

However, the answer that kept coming back was always a refusal. Including yesterday’s, it made a total of five rejections.

James hoped the matter would end there, but Hugo wouldn’t back down this time either.

Hugo eventually went so far as to reveal his name and write the proposal himself.

These days, when people see the name “Hugo Wenner” on a proposal, they treat it like winning the lottery, so he was essentially playing his trump card.

However, for James, who had mountains of important work piled up, the hunting ground acquisition was quite an annoying matter.

For this reason, he had visited the Rosier Hotel early this morning to quickly complete the task of delivering the proposal and was now on his way back.

“Do you think they’ll accept it this time? It’s already been the fifth attempt. At this point, it seems like they won’t sell no matter how good a price Hugo Wenner offers.”

To James’s doubtful question, Hugo casually replied while taking a sip of tea.

“Then I’ll have to write another proposal.”

James sighed deeply as he looked at him.

After a moment, he noticed Hugo’s somewhat darkened complexion and asked.