On the third day, in the late afternoon, a vast green courtyard stretched along one side of the Palace of Versailles. A group of noble figures had gathered there, preparing for a game of golf. They were scattered across the grounds in elegant attire, exchanging light conversation, while the equipment was arranged with meticulous care-as though it were part of an aristocratic ritual without which the scene would be incomplete.
Among those present, three figures stood out: Bella, Amori, and Amélie.
Amélie was, without question, the most enthusiastic of the three. Her eyes sparkled as she surveyed the course, gripping her golf club as if she were about to compete in a decisive championship. She wore a sleeveless argyle knit vest in a classic pattern-deep purple blended with lavender, crossed by thin yellow lines that added refined energy to the design. Beneath it, she wore a long-sleeved gray shirt, paired with high-waisted, slim-cut gray trousers and classic purple shoes. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, giving her a practical yet lively appearance.
Bella, by contrast, seemed entirely uninterested in the whole affair. She stood calmly, watching people move back and forth, observing small details with the cool detachment of a professional observer rather than a player. She wore a sleeveless argyle vest as well, but in bolder colors-deep red and pink, intersected by thin green lines.
Underneath was a white long-sleeved shirt, paired with wide-legged, high-waisted white trousers and classic red shoes. A white golf cap rested on her head, while her hair fell loose over her shoulders, giving her a look balanced between elegance and indifference.
As for Amori, he stood beside them holding Amélie's golf bag, his expression saying everything. The boredom was obvious, unmistakable, and impossible to deny. He was not a fan of golf, nor a believer in the idea that standing for hours in a green field, hitting a small ball with a long stick, was an activity worthy of such attention.
He wore a sleeveless dark blue knit vest with thin white lines, a long-sleeved black shirt, wide-legged high-waisted black trousers, and classic blue shoes. His hair was neatly styled to the side, as though he had attended the occasion out of respect for the place rather than any real conviction.
Between Amélie's excitement, Bella's indifference, and Amori's silent boredom, the day promised a great deal… even before the first golf ball was struck.
Amélie took a deep breath, as if inhaling the beauty of the place all at once, then said cheerfully as she looked at Bella and Amori: "Isn't the place wonderful? What do you think?"
Bella and Amori exchanged a quick glance.
Their responses came almost identically… and with equal indifference.
Bella said flatly, sweeping her gaze around: "Yes… green."
Amori added, just as coolly: "Spacious."
That was more than enough to deliver the message.
Amélie's expression tightened for a brief moment, clearly irritated by their lukewarm response-but she quickly composed herself. She had no intention of letting something like this ruin her mood. Smiling again, she said politely: "Anyway, thank you both for agreeing to be my assistants during the game. I truly appreciate it."
Amori replied immediately, with brutal honesty and no trace of diplomacy: "Just to be clear… this wasn't our choice. We were forced after a very explicit threat."
Bella shrugged in agreement: "A very clear threat."
Amélie paused, then offered an innocent, carefully manufactured smile-as if she had no idea what they were talking about.
And here… the scene rewound.
Flashback…
In Bella and Amori's bedroom inside the palace, the two were sitting comfortably on an elegant sofa. They wore matching silk robes in a dark bluish-crimson shade, perfectly content with the idea of not leaving the room until the opera that evening.
Standing before them was Amélie, fully prepared: elegant golf attire, her golf bag placed neatly on the floor beside her. She smiled eagerly, waiting patiently for their answer… at least on the surface.
Amori leaned back further into the sofa and said with sarcastic politeness: "I'm sorry, but I'm not a fan of golf, and I'm not good at it. Honestly, Bella and I have decided not to leave the room until the opera."
Bella nodded immediately: "Yes, that's the plan."
For just one second… Amélie's smile froze.
Her expression shifted from cheerful to unsettlingly cold. She glanced sideways at the golf bag, then let out a soft sound: "Oh…"
She bent down and pulled out one of the golf clubs. Slowly lifting it, she turned it in her hand as if weighing it, then said calmly-far too calmly-while looking at the club: "Isn't it sad when bodies are discovered inside the Palace of Versailles… and the weapon turns out to be just a golf club? Truly tragic."
From Amélie's perspective, it was a casual remark.
From Bella and Amori's perspective… It was a fully formed threat.
Their eyes widened in shock, following the movement of the club as if it were a bladed weapon in a crime film, not a noble sporting tool.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
End of Flashback…
Amori returned to the present with a sigh: "And that's how… we ended up on the golf course."
Amélie smiled with mild pride, while Bella looked out at the field and murmured: "Sometimes… cooperation is the safest option."
Amélie sighed in clear exasperation, then said in a tone she tried to keep calm: "I'm not asking you to play. Just to assist. Nothing more."
Bella sighed as well, looking at her coolly before asking: "Alright… and what exactly do assistants do?"
Amélie straightened her posture as if entering a formal explanation, then began listing calmly: "Only six things. First: carrying the golf bag. Second: providing technical advice-estimating distance, wind direction, and terrain slope. Third: reading the course. Fourth: strategic management-when to attack and when to play safe. Fifth: mental support. And finally: equipment care and rule compliance."
She paused, then added in a warning tone: "Is that clear?"
Bella and Amori exchanged a glance, each wearing a faint side smile-as if a brief silent conversation passed between them. Then, in unison, they looked back at Amélie and said: "Yes, we understand."
Amélie sighed again, this time with relief mixed with suspicion: "I truly hope you do."
She gestured forward with her hand: "Come on, follow me to the playing area."
She walked ahead with enthusiastic steps, declaring confidently: "We're winning today."
And before they could move much farther, the sound of an irritating engine cut through the air. A golf cart suddenly appeared, driving in a near-chaotic manner, before coming to an abrupt stop just a few steps away from them.
Inside the cart sat a man in his early forties-tall, lean, and carrying an unmistakably arrogant expression, with no attempt whatsoever to conceal it. His hair was black streaked with silvery gray, and his sharply pointed mustache matched in color.
He wore golf attire similar to the others', though styled to stand out: a short-sleeved white shirt, knee-length shorts, a light purple vest, and polished black shoes.
At the back of the cart sat two women wearing golf outfits with short skirts-one blonde with her hair tied in a ponytail, the other with short black hair. Both wore vivid pink lipstick and looked more like part of a performance than actual players.
Beside him sat a man in his fifties, impeccably dressed, with white hair and a thin beard. He held the golf bag with striking calm, as though he were the personal aide of this reckless man, paying little attention to the scene around him.
Amélie stopped where she was and looked at the newcomers, while Bella and Amori exchanged yet another glance- a look that said this day was not going to be as simple as Amélie had promised.
The man in his forties stepped down from the driver's seat with exaggerated confidence, adjusted his purple vest like someone preparing for a press photo, then lifted his chin slightly and said loudly, deliberately making sure everyone could hear:
"It seems introductions are in order."
He paused, then smiled an arrogant smile before announcing: "I am Duke Liandg Laurent."
Without waiting for any response, he continued speaking immediately, as if an audience were applauding him inside his own head: "A successful businessman, an official sponsor of several tournaments, and of course… the uncrowned champion of golf-because I simply don't care for excessive crowns."
He gestured broadly toward himself. "My victory today is only a matter of time. The course knows me, the clubs know me, and even the wind favors me."
In the back, the two women leaned toward each other and began enthusiastically reinforcing his words with forced admiration. The blonde laughed and said, "He's far too modest!" The other added with a wide smile, "The true golf champion-no one compares to him."
The duke then slowly turned his gaze toward Amélie, looking her up and down with clear disdain, and said mockingly: "As for you… your attempt to defeat me is cute. Truly cute. I admire the hope you grant yourself, even if it is hope that will shatter with the very first swing."
The women behind him burst into loud laughter, as though the line were the joke of the season.
Amélie, however, simply stared at him with complete coolness-no smile, no visible irritation-like someone watching a dull performance whose ending she already knew.
On the other side, Bella and Amori exchanged a quick look. One glance was enough.
A look that said: Did he hear himself? And does he actually believe what he's saying?
A faint, mocking smile appeared on Bella's lips, while Amori slowly raised an eyebrow, as though they had silently agreed on one thing: This man is not a golf champion… he is a showmanship champion.
Duke Liandg continued his inflated monologue, waving his hand and listing his achievements one after another, as if the air itself were required to applaud him. He finally ended his display, stood tall, crossed his arms, and stared at Amélie, waiting for a response that would satisfy his ego.
He received nothing.
Amélie looked at him coldly, motionless, as though staring at a painting she did not like. His eyebrows lifted slightly, then he smiled condescendingly and said with obvious sarcasm: "What's wrong? Has the cat got your tongue?"
Amélie sighed in boredom, slowly rolled her eyes, then adjusted her stance and replied in a calm voice devoid of any interest: "No. I simply don't give any importance to this vulgar display."
The sentence fell like a stone.
Liandg's face stiffened, his smile froze halfway, and his lips parted slightly in wounded disbelief. His pride had been slapped without a hand ever touching him.
Before he could recover, Bella stepped half a step forward, tilted her head with a sarcastic smile, and said lightly while laughing: "By the way… do you usually eavesdrop on people's conversations? Or are you just too busy listening to the sound of your own self-admiration?" She shrugged and added, "It's obvious from the excessive theatrics."
Liandg's eyes widened further, his jaw tightened, while the two women behind him exchanged confused looks, their laughter cutting off abruptly-as if someone had pressed a mute button.
Then Amori stepped forward.
He slipped one hand into his pocket, tilted his head slightly, and spoke in a calm, lethal tone-no shouting, no anger-just a finishing blow:
"Honestly, what I see is an aging, eccentric man trying to reclaim his youth, clumsily inserting himself among younger people without awareness."
He paused briefly, then added, raising an eyebrow: "Don't you feel disgusted with yourself? Or is self-respect entirely absent from your character?"
K.O.
Duke Liandg froze in place. His mouth hung open. His eyes were wide. His hands hovered in the air as though the words had been forcibly ripped from him.
A heavy silence fell.
Bella leaned toward Amélie and whispered with a victorious smile: "The match ended before it even began."
Amélie merely offered a small, satisfied smile.
Mr. Liandg remained rigid, his mouth half open, his gaze empty-as if his soul had stepped out for a short, unscheduled vacation.
His aide-the elegant man in his fifties-let out a deep sigh, one that suggested long familiarity with such situations. He stepped down from the cart with professional calm, approached the duke, took him by the shoulders, and lifted him with surprising ease, like someone handling a valuable artwork… or a statue that had lost its purpose.
He carefully placed him beside the cart seat, adjusted his posture slightly so he wouldn't look "embarrassing in public," then returned to the driver's seat.
Turning his head toward the trio with a polite smile that revealed nothing of what had just occurred, he said in a formal, courteous voice:
"Duke Liandg wishes to engage in a fair golf competition with you."
He nodded respectfully, started the engine, and the cart moved off with eerie calm toward the playing field, leaving behind a brief silence.
The three stood watching as the cart disappeared.
Bella broke the silence suddenly, her eyes shining with unexpected excitement: "I had no idea golf was this thrilling."
Amori nodded with mock seriousness: "Indeed. I'm starting to think it's more of a psychological game than a sport."
Amélie sighed deeply and replied coolly: "You just want to crush that man's ego even more, don't you?"
The enthusiasm vanished instantly. Bella and Amori turned to her with questioning looks, then said together, in a low, slightly guilty voice: "…Yes."
Amélie met their gaze with total coldness for two seconds. Then-without warning-her expression changed completely. A bright, excited smile spread across her face as she said cheerfully: "Actually… that's exactly what I want too."
Bella and Amori exchanged a quick glance. The spark immediately returned.
Amélie raised a finger as if adding an item to an official list: "And by the way, I reviewed the assistants' duties-and I've added a seventh task."
She paused for dramatic effect, then said:
"Shattering the ego of a man named Liandeg."
Bella and Amory burst out laughing at the exact same moment.
Bella said enthusiastically,
"Don't worry. We're experts in this field."
Amory added with a dangerously casual smile,
"We've got a long résumé."
They exchanged identical, devilish looks-then sprinted forward, their laughter echoing across the green in a way that promised absolutely nothing good.
Amélie stood watching them, a proud smile forming on her lips… but it didn't last long. It slowly faded, replaced by a flicker of doubt.
She whispered to herself,
"Maybe… they got a little too excited."
At that moment, behind her stood twins-a young man and a young woman-both dressed in golf attire, calmly discussing wind direction and shot angles. Amélie cast them a sideways glance and said in a steady but firm tone:
"Just be ready. I may need you at any moment."
They exchanged a quick, surprised look. Before they could ask what she meant, Amélie had already turned away and walked briskly after Bella and Amory, leaving the twins behind… confusion arriving before the question.
---
The peaceful golf course suddenly-without any warning-turned into something resembling a soft battlefield, where smiles were polished, swings were "friendly," and intentions were… aggressively hostile.
Duke Liandeg stood at the tee, adjusting his purple cap for the fifth time in ten seconds, puffing out his chest like a peacock announcing mating season. He slowly turned toward Amélie and said in a victorious tone before even starting:
"Watch closely. Not every day are you allowed to witness a legend at work."
Behind him, the two admiring women nodded excessively-one clapping for no reason at all, the other whispering,
"He's amazing even when he breathes."
Across from them, Amélie held her club with deadly calm, while Bella and Amory stood behind her-not as assistants, but as planners of a refined sabotage operation.
Bella whispered,
"Plan A?"
Amory replied with exaggerated seriousness,
"Plan A. Psychological disruption phase."
Liandeg stepped forward and delivered an overly dramatic swing, spinning his body like a ballet dancer. The ball flew… then landed disappointingly short.
A brief silence followed.
Bella immediately broke it with fake admiration:
"Wow… that was a philosophical shot. Short, but deeply meaningful."
Amory nodded solemnly:
"Clearly symbolic play. Distance is optional."
Liandeg's eyebrow twitched, but he ignored them and lifted his chin proudly.
Amélie's turn.
She positioned herself, took a deep breath-and just before swinging, Amory suddenly called out loudly:
"The wind is north-south-north… or maybe psychological?"
The two women panicked.
"The wind? Did it change?"
Amélie closed her eyes again, then struck.
The ball flew confidently, arced smoothly, bounced lightly-and settled in a perfect spot.
Liandeg froze.
Bella clapped excessively.
"Amazing! Did you see that? Even the ball was excited."
Liandeg growled,
"Pure luck."
The next round is where the madness truly began.
As Liandeg prepared for his swing, Amory passed behind him dragging the golf bag, producing a loud metallic clatter.
Liandeg jumped.
"What was that?!"
Amory replied flatly,
"The equipment is breathing."
On another shot, Bella crouched near the grass and suddenly said,
"Oh! This ground is very slanted… morally slanted."
Liandeg stared at the turf suspiciously, adjusted his stance three times, swung-
The ball landed straight into a sand trap.
The women gasped.
"Oh no!"
Amélie said calmly,
"Seems the sand doesn't like arrogance."
As time passed, Liandeg's nerves began to unravel. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his cap was constantly adjusted, his eyes darted around suspiciously. Meanwhile, Bella and Amory moved behind him like two professional cartoon villains-whispering, pointing, and shaking their heads with fake sympathy.
In contrast, Amélie played with terrifying consistency. Every swing calculated. Every movement calm. As if she were the only one actually playing golf.
At the end, Amélie's final ball dropped into the hole with perfect smoothness.
Silence.
Then Bella said sweetly,
"Looks like we won."
Amory added,
"A fair victory… and psychologically devastating."
Liandeg collapsed onto his seat, while his assistant handed him a towel and a glass of water without comment-like a man deeply familiar with this outcome.
Amélie turned to Bella and Amory and said with a satisfied smile,
"Excellent performance as assistants."
They exchanged a proud look, then said in unison,
"We haven't even started yet."
Amélie sighed.
And realized… This match was only round one.
---
Duke Liandeg sat on a side bench, legs crossed, his face grim like a general who'd lost a battle-but not the war. His eyes narrowed slowly as he stared at the course, while his assistant approached him.
The assistant was a man in his early fifties, calm-featured, white-haired, holding a small notebook-someone who looked like he'd witnessed disasters far worse than this.
Liandeg said quietly, with calculated malice:
"Listen, Victor… the first round was just a warm-up. Now we play smart."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Smart… or calculated chaos?"
Liandeg smiled sideways.
"Both."
And the second round began.
Amélie took her position, focused, and struck a perfect shot.
The ball rolled confidently, approached the hole…
One second away from dropping-
Suddenly-
A maintenance worker appeared out of nowhere, as if summoned from the ground itself. He bent down at lightning speed, picked up the ball, and looked around in confusion.
"Oh! Looks like someone dropped this ball."
Then-with entirely fabricated innocence-he placed it back at a much farther point.
Amélie stopped.
Stared.
Stared harder.
Then slowly lifted her gaze toward Liandeg.
Liandeg was smiling.
Not a normal smile.
The smile of a man who thinks he's a genius.
Bella tilted her head.
"Strange… the ball suddenly learned time travel."
Amory folded his arms.
"Clearly, round two allows supernatural abilities."
Amélie whispered calmly-dangerously:
"Alright… I understand the game now."
The match turned into a refined circus.
Once, Amélie tripped over a "hole that didn't exist five seconds ago."
Once, the flag suddenly moved "because of the wind"-despite the air being perfectly still.
Once, someone appeared mid-swing asking Liandeg for an autograph.
And every time, Liandeg feigned shock:
"My goodness… how unfortunate."
That's when Amory leaned toward Bella and whispered:
"Time to escalate."
Bella smiled.
"Plan B… the childish version?"
Amory pulled a small controller from his pocket and pressed a button.
From behind a nearby bush… a small drone emerged, humming quietly.
Amory waved to a nearby child-about seven years old, eyes sparkling.
"Do you like flying drones?"
The kid's eyes widened.
"Yes!"
Amory handed him the controller.
"Perfect. Just… if you see that man over there-" he pointed at Liandeg,
"-shout loudly: 'Hey, old man!' and I'll give you candy."
The kid thought for half a second.
Then smiled a tiny, wicked smile.
"Deal." 😈
---
Liandeg was preparing for his shot.
Perfect stance. Total focus.
And suddenly-
"HEY, YOU OOOOLD MAAAAN!"
Liandeg's shoulder twitched. Then the drone appeared, spinning right in front of his face.
"What is that?! Get it away from me!"
He swung his club wildly through the air like a man fighting a mechanical mosquito.
The drone backed off slightly.
Liandeg inhaled deeply, reset his stance.
And at the exact moment he struck the ball-
The drone collided with it.
The ball veered off catastrophically, flew sideways, and landed somewhere that had absolutely nothing to do with the golf course.
Liandeg froze.
Then his face turned red.
Then he exploded:
"This is illegal! Inhumane! Uncivilized!"
On the other side, the scene was… very different.
Bella burst into loud, unapologetic laughter.
Amory clapped with fake composure.
"Modern technology… truly unfortunate."
As for Amélie, she merely smiled-a calm, lethal smile-and said,
"Looks like the wind changed again."
Liandeg's eyebrow twitched. He shot them a look of pure hatred.
Victor, the assistant, calmly wrote a single note in his notebook:
"Second round has gone out of control."
And the match continued…
It was no longer golf.
It was a war of tricks-played with clubs, decided by nerves.
They entered the final round as if it were the world championship finals…
except in a cartoon version filled with cheap schemes.
Only a few shots separated everyone from victory, and with every second, the sabotage escalated.
Amory and Bella exchanged a long look.
A look that said: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
They spoke at the same time, with exaggerated drama:
"The final plan."
They pulled out small walkie-talkies from completely illogical pockets
(because comedy does not acknowledge logic).
Fake-professional whispers began.
Bella (whispering):
"Don't move yet… wait… no, no-now? No… wait a bit… okay-no-go back!"
Meanwhile, Amory had already begun sneaking, walking in an absurd crouch, crawling behind a short bush that couldn't even hide a golf ball.
On the other side, Amélie focused.
She swung-thwack!
The ball rolled… approached… stopped… and did not enter the hole.
At that moment, Mr. Liandeg smiled a wicked smile and adjusted his cap like he was in an old commercial.
"Seems you're a beginner, miss. After the match, you should apologize, and I might…"
he paused dramatically,
"…teach you how to play. And after further thought… I'll refuse."
Then he burst into exaggerated cartoon-villain laughter.
He struck his ball with excessive confidence.
The ball slowly began rolling toward the hole.
At that exact moment, Bella slammed the walkie-talkie button:
"Amory-NOW!"
Amory leapt out from behind the bush in the posture of a failed secret agent, humming:
"Dun dun dun duuun…"
He tiptoed dramatically, looking left and right-and then-
Out of nowhere!
He pulled out a vacuum cleaner.
No one knows where it came from.
No one asked.
He turned it on near the ball, pretending the "wind" was responsible.
The ball actually veered off.
Amory smiled proudly-
then heard the walkie-talkie crackle.
"Amory?"
He exhaled in relief.
"Bella? The plan worked."
"AMORY!"
That voice wasn't Bella.
It was Amélie.
Very. Angry.
And in the background…
a muffled laugh.
A familiar one.
"What did you do?! I… saved the situation?"
"You idiot-you used a vacuum cleaner in front of everyone!"
Amory slowly lifted his head.
Looked around.
…He was completely exposed.
Standing in the middle of the course.
Holding a vacuum cleaner.
All eyes on him.
Amélie was pressing her temples in fury.
Bella?
Bella was laughing.
Laughing so hard she bent over, then collapsed onto the ground, clutching her stomach.
"Oh my God! He lived the spy role so hard he cramped! Caught red-handed-with a vacuum cleaner!"
Mr. Liandeg clapped slowly, laughing smugly.
"This is your team? Wonderful… amazing… very professional."
Victor stood watching like it was a free theater performance.
The two women behind Liandeg laughed and whispered happily.
Amory felt the embarrassment burn. He opened his mouth to defend himself-
The walkie-talkie screamed again:
"RETREAT. NOW."
He turned off the vacuum slowly…
Backed away while bowing apologetically to everyone…
And muttered to himself:
"I was close… so close."
Bella's laughter still echoed across the field,
and the final round… had not spoken its last word yet.
Amélie called for a short break. Everyone stopped.
She took a deep breath, as if preparing for a cartoon investigation mission.
She marched straight toward Amory and Bella, her gaze fixed squarely on Amory.
"Amory. Bella. What was that just now?"
Bella shrugged casually and replied with sarcasm:
"Me? I did nothing. This is all his fault-playing the hero. He ruined the game himself."
She shot Amory a look that said: Careful-you lost a major cartoon point.
Amory started waving his hands, explaining with exaggerated passion, like he was defending his honor in a theatrical court:
"But… I was trying to win! My intentions were noble-"
Amélie cut him off coldly:
"Yes… but you were the idiot who used a vacuum cleaner in front of everyone!"
Bella laughed, trying to suppress it, repeating the word "idiot" in a cartoon voice:
"Idioooot~!"
Amory shot her an annoyed look and tried to whisper:
"Shut up!"
Bella, smiling wickedly, said loudly:
"Oh don't worry-I'll only make you a joke for our future grandchildren. Haha!"
Amory nearly swallowed his tongue from sheer embarrassment.
Before the comedic argument between them could escalate, Amélie raised her hand sharply:
"You are no longer my assistants."
Bella and Amory, in perfect sync, stunned:
"What? Why? After all this-"
Amélie looked at them coldly and gestured toward the field:
"You were caught cheating in the act. I can't trust you anymore."
Bella asked with cartoonish innocence:
"Then who will be your assistants?"
Amélie scanned the area with sharp eyes, like a bright-eyed cat hunting prey-then her gaze landed on the twins sitting alone, tense and attentive.
"You two!"
She called out loudly:
"Come here-now!"
The twins jumped up instantly, as if avoiding cartoon punishment, their eyes shining with a mix of excitement and fear.
Bella and Amory exchanged a quick look that said:
"How could they possibly be better than us?"
Amory tried one last dramatic appeal:
"No, no-we're experts at sabotage! That old man won't stop cheating, and we're the best at this!"
Amélie replied with commanding confidence, like a comedic leader:
"I've decided. And no one is moving from their spot."
Amélie walked off with the twins toward the course, both of them bouncing with nervous excitement.
Bella and Amory stood there, faces twisted with frustration and disbelief, as if saying:
"We can't believe this… they stole the spotlight from us."
But deep down, both of them knew the truth:
They had been this close to shattering Mr. Liandeg's ego in the most cartoonishly evil way possible-
and unfortunately… the spotlight was taken from them. 🎭💥
---
Amory sat on the chair like a hero on an unjust break: one leg crossed over the other, his arm lazily draped over Bella's shoulder.
Bella, on the other hand, sat almost formally upright, her back slightly straight, arms folded, as if attending a show whose ending she already knew but was forced to watch.
In front of them, the match continued between Amélie and Mr. Liandeg.
Liandeg… the arrogant, overly-dressed man, smiled that "I play fair" smile while cheating in the kind of subtle way that would require a lawyer to prove.
Amélie, for her part, was trying-obviously with effort-to win honorably this time. After all, her assistants were not Amory and Bella. No vacuum cleaners, no children, no drones.
Amory sighed in boredom, watching the ball move at a painfully slow pace:
"Wow… look, Bella… this is the first time I've seen golf turn into a documentary about turtles."
Without even looking at him, Bella replied dryly and sarcastically:
"Don't insult the turtles. At least they move with honest intent."
Amory raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly:
"Did you notice? The old man is cheating now."
She responded coldly:
"No, I didn't… probably because I'm busy counting how many times he smiles like he did nothing."
On the course, Liandeg's ball veered suspiciously toward the right direction.
He smiled and raised his club slightly in a self-congratulatory salute.
Amory chuckled softly:
"Oh yes… 'coincidence'-Mr. Liandeg's best friend."
Bella tilted her head, a side smile appearing on her lips:
"Professional coincidence. Trained for years on this exact course."
A brief silence fell, broken by Amory waving his hand lazily:
"You know? If we were there right now, this match would've ended ten minutes ago."
With a side grin, he added:
"Yes, either with a crushing victory… or an official ejection with applause from the audience."
He looked at her, sighing:
"I still think the vacuum cleaner was a brilliant idea."
Bella glanced at him briefly, then returned her eyes to the match:
"Brilliant… for a comedy show, not a golf championship."
On the course, Amélie made a tough shot but held herself together. She took a deep breath and smiled to herself as if saying: "With honor… with honor…"
Bella watched, half admiring, half pitying:
"Look at her… trying to win honorably. It's painful."
Amory chuckled lightly:
"Very painful… like watching someone choose the stairs instead of the broken elevator."
He leaned back, staring at the sky:
"They locked us out… sat us here… and stopped us from mischief…"
Then he looked at Bella with sparkling eyes:
"But no one can stop us from mocking."
Finally, Bella smiled-a mischievous cartoonish smile-and said quietly:
"This… is our game now."
They resumed watching the match, arm over shoulder, shared boredom, sarcasm ready, waiting for the moment Mr. Liandeg's ego would crumble… even if from afar.
Amélie stood over her shot, staring at the ball as if trying to psych it into the hole:
"Okay… -she muttered, exhaling slowly- now I understand the difficulty of playing without the two maniacs. I would've won honorably… I would've really… if not for this old man turning the course into a traveling circus of tricks."
She clenched her fist slightly, then straightened up, trying to maintain focus, and struck the ball with measured calm.
On the other side, Mr. Liandeg strutted with far too much confidence, muttering to himself while smiling a premature victory smile:
"I will win… yes, I will win on this short course… and everyone will see who the true golf champion is… I… I…
Then-without any logical transition-he suddenly raised his voice:
"And I will be officially recognized as the best golfer in this club!"
A strange silence fell.
Then Amory's voice rang from the stands, dripping with sarcasm:
"Simple question, Duke Liandeg… can't you tell the difference between internal dialogue and shouting out loud? Or has age granted you live broadcasting privileges without permission?"
Liandeg froze in place.
His face gradually turned red, from pink to crimson, then he spun around, shouting:
"Silence! You insolent fool!"
Amory didn't seem the least bit annoyed. He calmly smiled, then raised his hand to his mouth and zipped his lips with an exaggerated cartoonish motion, as if pulling an invisible zipper, then thumbed: completely sealed.
This… was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Liandeg began muttering again, quietly this time, as he approached his ball:
"Rude… disrespectful… generation without manners…"
Bella chuckled softly, a short but genuine laugh, then leaned slightly toward Amory in a joking tone:
"Official admission: that's the best use of the 'zip your lips' move I've ever seen. Performance worthy of applause."
Amory froze for a second, scratched the back of his head sheepishly, and gave a light smile like a child caught being praised unexpectedly.
"Oh… I mean… just a natural reaction."
On the course, Amélie continued playing, trying to focus amidst this auditory madness, while Liandeg's ego slowly eroded-not from losing… but because the audience in the stands had turned every moment into live comedy material.
As the match neared its end, Bella sat watching the course with a relatively vacant expression.
Her eyes on the ball… then nothing.
Then suddenly-a soft gurgle in her stomach.
She sighed quietly, placed her hand on her belly, and whispered:
"This isn't boredom… it's a food emergency."
She looked around aimlessly, until her eyes landed on a scene resembling earthly paradise:
An elegant table, steam rising from tea cups, young women laughing gracefully, and beside them a tall blonde man, relaxed like an aristocratic ad in a magazine.
And on the table… the disaster:
Macarons in soft colors,
Chocolate and vanilla éclairs,
Mille-feuille with delicate layers,
Lemon tarts gleaming with creamy topping,
Buttery croissants,
Little madeleines lined up with innocent precision.
Bella's eyes widened slightly.
"…Ah."
She immediately stood as if making a life-altering decision, straightened confidently-but hadn't even taken two steps when Amory noticed her movement. He turned toward her, raising an eyebrow:
"Where are you going?"
She lightly gestured toward the distant table, in a very practical tone:
"I'm going to organize that little gathering."
He stared in the direction she pointed, then back at her, then at the table again.
He understood within two full seconds.
"…Organize?"
She nodded confidently:
"And execute a quick plan for snacks."
Amory sighed, shaking his head in mock surrender, then warned in theatrical tone:
"Go quickly. The match is almost over, and I don't want to win or lose without your sarcastic commentary."
Bella smiled sideways and raised her hand in an official promise:
"One minute. Or two. Or… depending on the quality of the pastries."
She then turned and walked confidently toward the table,
while Amory watched her for a moment, muttering to himself:
"We're in a war of egos… and she went on a croissant mission, What a loser!."
In the background, the match continued… but the real battle was about to begin at the tea table.
At that elegant table, six young noblewomen sat in perfect harmony:
Soft dresses, calculated laughs, and teacups held as if they were priceless artifacts.
Everything was refined… maybe a bit too much.
Sitting among them was a nobleman in a meticulously tailored dark blue suit, his blonde hair perfectly styled—not a hint of spontaneity.
He spoke confidently, tossed out light jokes, and occasionally dropped a clever flirtatious line…
The result: either bursts of laughter or sudden, carefully staged blushing.
"No, no, this joke is dangerous… I might be accused of ruining the royal court's reputation,"
he said with a side smile.
The outcome?
Collective laughter. One almost spilled her tea. Total success.
Moments later, a seventh young woman joined the table.
They welcomed her immediately, pulled out a chair, offered her a madeleine as if it were a formal initiation ritual.
As she caught her breath, she noticed a group of nobles across the way and tilted her head curiously:
"What's happening over there?"
A blonde woman stirring her spoon answered:
"A golf match. Between Duke Liandeg… and Miss Amélie."
The black-haired young woman's eyes widened slightly, and she immediately pieced it together:
"Oh… so Bella is there too, right?"
Then, jokingly:
"Honestly, if she weren't married… I'd suspect Bella and Amélie are dating. They're never apart."
Everyone laughed.
A brown-haired girl raised a finger as if correcting a historical fact:
"No, no. Bella herself stated in a show that she's not into women. Completely straight."
Another blonde sighed dramatically, hand on her chest:
"Such a loss… men are lucky. At least they have a chance, but us? Zero."
The blonde man chimed in, laughing and raising his cup:
"You're right… but in reality, even men have no chance. She's married now."
Then, in a quieter tone:
"And honestly? She's a rare example of loyalty. She doesn't cheat, doesn't look back… but that makes people wonder:
What really caused her first marriage to fail?"
The young women exchanged glances.
One said softly:
"She didn't disclose. She kept it private between her and her ex-husband… Mr. William."
Another furrowed her brow thoughtfully:
"William… isn't he the wealthy man who sells jewelry? Diamonds, gemstones… all of that?"
"Yes," said a third, "he used to provide jewelry to her company during their marriage without any cost, and strangely, their business partnership didn't end even after the divorce."
A fourth girl leaned forward eagerly:
"But… what does he look like? I've never seen him. Only heard the name."
Another smiled dreamily, then, like a secret agent, pulled out her phone quickly:
"Wait… wait… I'll show you."
She searched, tapped rapidly, full focus.
"Ah! Found him!"
She turned the phone toward the girl beside her.
A second of silence. Then…
"Wow… it seems Miss Bella really has exquisite taste in choosing husbands. She only picks men of the highest caliber."
In the picture: a tall man, broad shoulders, a built physique visible under a sleek black suit,
black hair combed to the side,
sharp, cold features,
hazel eyes piercing through the screen.
He was exiting a restaurant, as if the camera had caught him in a candid moment… yet perfectly.
A hush fell over the table.
Even the blonde man stopped smiling.
Then one of the young women murmured:
"…Okay. Now I understand."
And so, at an innocent tea table,
a distant golf match
turned into an informal trial of Bella's terrifyingly excellent taste in men.
As the chatter and laughter mingled over teacups, Bella quietly approached, stopping behind the blonde young woman who had moments earlier praised her enthusiastically.
The blonde suddenly noticed a shadow falling on the table.
She froze mid-sentence. Slowly, she turned…
And the moment she saw Bella standing behind her, calm and confident, she said politely and charmingly, as if entering a royal salon:
"Excuse me… may I join you?"
The blonde's face immediately flushed.
She froze for a second. Then suddenly regained composure as if someone had pressed the "reset" button.
"O–of course! We're honored! Please!"
She said quickly, pulling out a chair herself as if afraid Bella might change her mind.
Bella sat down and immediately blended into the atmosphere:
Spontaneous laughter, witty comments, light jokes…
Within less than a minute, she seemed like she'd been part of the table from the very start.
Then one of the women asked, her curiosity clear:
"In your opinion… who will win? Mr. Liandeg or Miss Amélie?"
Bella smiled slightly, then answered with confident honesty:
"I trust Amélie to win."
A light relief spread…
But she added quietly, sincerely:
"However, I cannot lie. Mr. Liandeg… is skilled."
Eyes widened.
"Really? We didn't think so!"
Bella leaned slightly and whispered softly, almost confessing a deep secret:
"Skilled at cheating… not at the game."
She bit her lip to keep from laughing as the women exchanged astonished glances.
Then, as she lifted her gaze, she noticed the blonde man sitting with them.
She narrowed her eyes slightly… focus. Memory working.
"Wait…"
she said suddenly.
"I think I've seen you before."
The man straightened slightly in his seat, polite:
"Really?"
"Yes, on the first day after the dinner party."
She gestured with her hand:
"Near those large trees… and you were with another man."
He smiled lightly, in a courteous tone:
"I thought you had forgotten."
Then placed his hand on his chest in greeting:
"My name is Julian de Montreval."
He added calmly:
"And I am the brother of James de Montreval… Baron de Valois."
The women exchanged glances again.
A noble name.
A respected title.
Bella merely gave a gentle smile and said:
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Julian."
Inside, she thought with quiet amusement:
"Looks like I landed at a far more entertaining table than I expected… and the tea is just the beginning."
To be continued…