The place where Ariadne went to meet Greta was the annex of the Rambouillet Center.
This is where people suspected of being infected with the Black Death are quarantined. Greta was the first confirmed case to be admitted to the annex.
“Can you hear me?”
At Ariadne's voice, the girl who had the window open answered in surprise.
“Miss... I didn’t know you would really come.”
Greta looked at Ariadne, a short, lovely girl, standing in the garden from her windowed room on the second floor of the annex.
The skin with slightly visible freckles would normally have a pink glow.
The girl, who would normally have been cheering those around her with a cheerful voice, was now standing by the window with a pale face, wearing an old shawl, and facing the cold wind.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Ariadne shivered as she asked the question.
She couldn't tell whether she was shivering from the cold wind or from her own hypocrisy.
There's no way she's okay if she has the Black Death.
Greta said she had been suffering from a cold and had her first bout of bloody cough yesterday.
So this girl now has a more than 90% chance of dying within ten days.
“It’s better than I thought. I can move around. Do I look like I’m in a lot of pain?”
Ariadne smiled and shook her head.
“No, not really.”
She thought this was a polite question from a patient concerned about her appearance.
But there was another reason why Greta brought up this story.
“I really appreciate you coming, young lady. Even to a dangerous place...”
“There are people like Greta who are directly involved in the frontlines, but if you say this is dangerous, then I am a shameless person.”
Greta laughed heartily.
“This is my first time meeting a noble lady like you.”
Ariadne thought, “Well, I’m not a nobleman, after all,” but didn’t bother to correct her.
“You know, miss. I wanted to thank you.”
“...What?”
You're going to die soon because of me, and yet you're thanking me.
“You are the first person to tell me that even someone like me can do something.”
Greta was a very smart child. Ariadne could tell right away that she was a smart girl even though she only met her in person for ten minutes.
“My late mother... My father who sold me out, he always called me a useless girl. No, it was just my parents.”
As soon as Ariadne heard Greta's story, she understood what she was talking about.
A girl from a poor family will be subject to nothing but abuse and neglect throughout her life if her parents do not support her.
Unless she can find a good match because of her high status or exceptional beauty, her life will be spent doing simple labor like helping with farm work, doing odd jobs around the house, or supporting an ordinary man and raising his children.
And if it's a girl who does that, it's better to discourage her from a young age so that she listens better.
There is absolutely no need to encourage them by saying "yes, yes" or encouraging them to improve.
“Well... there aren’t many people.”
Ariadne recalled her days at the Bergamo farm for the first time in a long time.
As time passed, the soup had become dull, but now even the memories of those people, who she had hated so much back then, were vague.
She thought of the old woman who had died at the hands of Lucrezia. Her name was Gian Galeazzo.
But Ariadne could still vividly recall the feeling of injustice and resentment that she would risk her life if she could just get revenge.
The driving force in her life was that desire for revenge.
“It’s not like they beat me up because I’m bad. If I really was lacking, I would have accepted it even if it was unfair. But they say that all the people from the Rambouillet Relief Center are lazy, that this is why women are no good, and that I should come back when I’m twenty....”
The most frustrating thing in the world is when you can clearly do something, but cannot even get started because of the arbitrary restrictions of others.
“There were definitely people who said nice things. Oh, of course, if you say nice things, you’re a nobleman.”
Greta smiled wickedly.
“A noble lady who came to do volunteer work said this to me the other day. ‘You’re so pretty, you’ll definitely do well. Find a great groom, like a knight or a merchant! What do you have to worry about when you’re so young? I’m old now, and there’s nothing I can do.’”
It probably refers to the Silver Cross Society that Isabella belonged to.
The Silver Cross Women's Society regularly volunteered at the Rambouillet Relief Center.
Judging by the age, she must be Baroness Loredan.
“Does that lady think that poor people don’t even have mirrors in their homes? No, she knows full well that I don’t look like that even if she looks at me in a brass bowl. And then she makes me sit in front of a temple and when the incredibly pretty blonde noblewoman who came to volunteer with her looks at me closely, she badmouths the lady and says that she's not pretty. It’s so unfunny!”
The Silver Cross Ladies' story was right. If it was a pretty blonde girl, it would be gossiping about Isabella.
Ariadne laughed in vain. My sister, she gets cursed at there too.
“And then she told me that since you’re so pretty, everything will be fine. I’m not even funny! That’s why I asked.”
Greta made a square mouth shape and imitated the sound of Ebebebe.
“Your Grace, where and what must I do to find the handsome husband you speak of? I am imprisoned in the Rambouillet Center and cannot leave, so please, gracious lady, help me out!”
There was no trace of illness on Greta's face, which was clearly irritated.
“Then she ran away without looking back!”
Sure enough, it's easy to say sweet things. It's even easier to offer shallow consolation.
“Everything is okay, everything will be fine, we love the poor. Many gentlemen talk big, but few actually empty their own pockets to make things better. That’s why I thought you would be the same.”
Greta looked straight at Ariadne.
“I thought you’d come with a piece of bread, show off, throw it around, and then go home praised.”
Ariadne smiled bitterly. If she hadn't had other plans, she wouldn't have sowed grain.
Greta's sharp tongue tease never stopped.
“I had similar thoughts when the grain carts started coming into the relief center after the young lady went. I just thought this hapless noblewoman who shows off so much has a lot of money. She must be spending so much because she has so much money. Her fate is good.”
Greta looked down at Ariadne from the second-floor window.
Ariadne was wearing a wax-coated outer garment and a linen face cloth, like those worn by plague doctors.
These two items were also given to the nurses at the Rambouillet Relief Center.
But the guilt flowing underneath could not be hidden.
Although she had taken off all her jewelry, her ebony hair, flowing like clouds, and her flawless, clear skin were visible.
That kind of skin is something that a housewife who works under the scorching sun could never have.
Among them, the dark green jewel ribbon tied to the black hair really caught Greta's eye.
It is a luxurious item that would be worn only in a royal palace. The shawl visible from the collar is knitted one stitch at a time with the wool of young sheep.
It was a stark contrast to the old, worn-out shawl she had worn.
Ariadne and Greta were only a year or two apart in age. It was impossible not to feel intense jealousy.
“...”
Greta thought about how easy it would be to hate Ariadne.
Among the friends at the relief center who became nurses with her, many hated Ariadne.
A noble lady who is not even a noblewoman is acting all arrogant and putting herself in danger, taking all the praise for herself, and acting all smart and proper without lifting a finger.
Their discontent subsided only briefly once a week when their wages were settled.
But Greta didn't want to insult Ariadne as easily as her friends who used to hang out together.
Because the woman in front of them gave them the possibility of getting out of this damned asylum.
“But... You actually gave us a job. And it was a really good job that people from all over the country were looking for. Even though you gave us a job, it was just menial work or maid work, and we never got a good job like that. Since the relief center was built, there hasn’t been a single one.”
The nurses at the relief center received so many requests for dispatch that they felt like they would need five bodies.
Many children were worried that they would lose their jobs once the pandemic ended, but Greta was one of the more optimistic ones.
San Carlo, no, the Central Continent was a land where plagues never ceased even without the Black Death.
Periodically, something would break out, whether it was cholera, yellow fever, or even a cattle plague. Quarantine experts were always needed.
When Greta was thinking that she would have more job opportunities if she could speak a foreign language, she asked Sancha for advice, and she responds that it was not a big deal.
“Galico, you know? You can learn. Our young lady taught me how to read and write and how to read ledgers.”
Sancha answered with a smile.
The problem is that Greta doesn't have time to learn—more precisely, she just wants to lie down and sleep after work—so finding a teacher is not a problem at all.
Miss Ariadne is not the type of person who spares support for her own people.
“I had a dream.”
The dream of becoming an important person.
She dreams of becoming an infectious disease expert, working all over the Central Continent, where her decisions affect the lives of many people, where her judgment determines national affairs, and where her opinions and insights are respected and admired.
Greta lived in a rural village until her father sold her to an old man for 50 florins, forcing her to come to the capital.
She thought she just had to do odd jobs for the family, but she soon realized that 'odd jobs' also included taking care of an old man who had lost his wife at night.
For Greta, who ran away in such a panic and ended up trapped in the Rambouillet Center, it was actually a dream close to a delusion.
“I don’t want it to end here like this.”
Tears streamed down Greta's eyes.
It was the first time that Greta, who had been cheerful as if contracting the Black Death was someone else's story, showed emotional agitation.
“I had a dream that I could become something. A dream that I could become a great... person.”
Greta was embarrassed even saying the words.
But Miss Ariadne may be the last person Greta talks to before she dies.
So Greta mustered up her courage and said the words.
If everything went as planned, it might have made it into the history books.
'Greta, the first female physician in the Etruscan kingdom'. The title changed slightly each time, but whatever the job, it was more than twenty times in her imagination.
“...If I’m going to die like this, I’ll do something to die.”
Greta took a deep breath and looked at Ariadne.
“I heard that you are trying to spread a plague among the Gallico army. I also heard that you are considering how to do so.”
The girl, whose skin was a mix of freckles and a little acne, as befitting her age, spoke in a sharp tone, pressing down on each word.
“I will go.”
When Ariadne didn't answer right away, Greta added.
“I can do this better than anyone else. I’m now an infectious disease expert. What we do is prevent disease, so if we want to spread it, all we have to do is do the opposite.”
Greta raised her voice to Ariadne, who still had no answer. She seemed anxious, afraid of being rejected.
“I’m young and a girl, so I can easily join the military camp! I’m sure they won’t be on guard!”
Until now, Ariadne had been listening to Greta in silence.
Moonlight poured down from above, casting shadows on Ariadne's face, making it difficult for Greta to gauge her expression. Greta urged her again.
“Let me go! I’ll go! Let me do anything!”
Please let me leave a trace that I was alive.
“...Greta.”
Ariadne looked up at Greta. Her face was streaked with tears.
“I... I just can’t tell you to go.”
This is where people suspected of being infected with the Black Death are quarantined. Greta was the first confirmed case to be admitted to the annex.
“Can you hear me?”
At Ariadne's voice, the girl who had the window open answered in surprise.
“Miss... I didn’t know you would really come.”
Greta looked at Ariadne, a short, lovely girl, standing in the garden from her windowed room on the second floor of the annex.
The skin with slightly visible freckles would normally have a pink glow.
The girl, who would normally have been cheering those around her with a cheerful voice, was now standing by the window with a pale face, wearing an old shawl, and facing the cold wind.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Ariadne shivered as she asked the question.
She couldn't tell whether she was shivering from the cold wind or from her own hypocrisy.
There's no way she's okay if she has the Black Death.
Greta said she had been suffering from a cold and had her first bout of bloody cough yesterday.
So this girl now has a more than 90% chance of dying within ten days.
“It’s better than I thought. I can move around. Do I look like I’m in a lot of pain?”
Ariadne smiled and shook her head.
“No, not really.”
She thought this was a polite question from a patient concerned about her appearance.
But there was another reason why Greta brought up this story.
“I really appreciate you coming, young lady. Even to a dangerous place...”
“There are people like Greta who are directly involved in the frontlines, but if you say this is dangerous, then I am a shameless person.”
Greta laughed heartily.
“This is my first time meeting a noble lady like you.”
Ariadne thought, “Well, I’m not a nobleman, after all,” but didn’t bother to correct her.
“You know, miss. I wanted to thank you.”
“...What?”
You're going to die soon because of me, and yet you're thanking me.
“You are the first person to tell me that even someone like me can do something.”
Greta was a very smart child. Ariadne could tell right away that she was a smart girl even though she only met her in person for ten minutes.
“My late mother... My father who sold me out, he always called me a useless girl. No, it was just my parents.”
As soon as Ariadne heard Greta's story, she understood what she was talking about.
A girl from a poor family will be subject to nothing but abuse and neglect throughout her life if her parents do not support her.
Unless she can find a good match because of her high status or exceptional beauty, her life will be spent doing simple labor like helping with farm work, doing odd jobs around the house, or supporting an ordinary man and raising his children.
And if it's a girl who does that, it's better to discourage her from a young age so that she listens better.
There is absolutely no need to encourage them by saying "yes, yes" or encouraging them to improve.
“Well... there aren’t many people.”
Ariadne recalled her days at the Bergamo farm for the first time in a long time.
As time passed, the soup had become dull, but now even the memories of those people, who she had hated so much back then, were vague.
She thought of the old woman who had died at the hands of Lucrezia. Her name was Gian Galeazzo.
But Ariadne could still vividly recall the feeling of injustice and resentment that she would risk her life if she could just get revenge.
The driving force in her life was that desire for revenge.
“It’s not like they beat me up because I’m bad. If I really was lacking, I would have accepted it even if it was unfair. But they say that all the people from the Rambouillet Relief Center are lazy, that this is why women are no good, and that I should come back when I’m twenty....”
The most frustrating thing in the world is when you can clearly do something, but cannot even get started because of the arbitrary restrictions of others.
“There were definitely people who said nice things. Oh, of course, if you say nice things, you’re a nobleman.”
Greta smiled wickedly.
“A noble lady who came to do volunteer work said this to me the other day. ‘You’re so pretty, you’ll definitely do well. Find a great groom, like a knight or a merchant! What do you have to worry about when you’re so young? I’m old now, and there’s nothing I can do.’”
It probably refers to the Silver Cross Society that Isabella belonged to.
The Silver Cross Women's Society regularly volunteered at the Rambouillet Relief Center.
Judging by the age, she must be Baroness Loredan.
“Does that lady think that poor people don’t even have mirrors in their homes? No, she knows full well that I don’t look like that even if she looks at me in a brass bowl. And then she makes me sit in front of a temple and when the incredibly pretty blonde noblewoman who came to volunteer with her looks at me closely, she badmouths the lady and says that she's not pretty. It’s so unfunny!”
The Silver Cross Ladies' story was right. If it was a pretty blonde girl, it would be gossiping about Isabella.
Ariadne laughed in vain. My sister, she gets cursed at there too.
“And then she told me that since you’re so pretty, everything will be fine. I’m not even funny! That’s why I asked.”
Greta made a square mouth shape and imitated the sound of Ebebebe.
“Your Grace, where and what must I do to find the handsome husband you speak of? I am imprisoned in the Rambouillet Center and cannot leave, so please, gracious lady, help me out!”
There was no trace of illness on Greta's face, which was clearly irritated.
“Then she ran away without looking back!”
Sure enough, it's easy to say sweet things. It's even easier to offer shallow consolation.
“Everything is okay, everything will be fine, we love the poor. Many gentlemen talk big, but few actually empty their own pockets to make things better. That’s why I thought you would be the same.”
Greta looked straight at Ariadne.
“I thought you’d come with a piece of bread, show off, throw it around, and then go home praised.”
Ariadne smiled bitterly. If she hadn't had other plans, she wouldn't have sowed grain.
Greta's sharp tongue tease never stopped.
“I had similar thoughts when the grain carts started coming into the relief center after the young lady went. I just thought this hapless noblewoman who shows off so much has a lot of money. She must be spending so much because she has so much money. Her fate is good.”
Greta looked down at Ariadne from the second-floor window.
Ariadne was wearing a wax-coated outer garment and a linen face cloth, like those worn by plague doctors.
These two items were also given to the nurses at the Rambouillet Relief Center.
But the guilt flowing underneath could not be hidden.
Although she had taken off all her jewelry, her ebony hair, flowing like clouds, and her flawless, clear skin were visible.
That kind of skin is something that a housewife who works under the scorching sun could never have.
Among them, the dark green jewel ribbon tied to the black hair really caught Greta's eye.
It is a luxurious item that would be worn only in a royal palace. The shawl visible from the collar is knitted one stitch at a time with the wool of young sheep.
It was a stark contrast to the old, worn-out shawl she had worn.
Ariadne and Greta were only a year or two apart in age. It was impossible not to feel intense jealousy.
“...”
Greta thought about how easy it would be to hate Ariadne.
Among the friends at the relief center who became nurses with her, many hated Ariadne.
A noble lady who is not even a noblewoman is acting all arrogant and putting herself in danger, taking all the praise for herself, and acting all smart and proper without lifting a finger.
Their discontent subsided only briefly once a week when their wages were settled.
But Greta didn't want to insult Ariadne as easily as her friends who used to hang out together.
Because the woman in front of them gave them the possibility of getting out of this damned asylum.
“But... You actually gave us a job. And it was a really good job that people from all over the country were looking for. Even though you gave us a job, it was just menial work or maid work, and we never got a good job like that. Since the relief center was built, there hasn’t been a single one.”
The nurses at the relief center received so many requests for dispatch that they felt like they would need five bodies.
Many children were worried that they would lose their jobs once the pandemic ended, but Greta was one of the more optimistic ones.
San Carlo, no, the Central Continent was a land where plagues never ceased even without the Black Death.
Periodically, something would break out, whether it was cholera, yellow fever, or even a cattle plague. Quarantine experts were always needed.
When Greta was thinking that she would have more job opportunities if she could speak a foreign language, she asked Sancha for advice, and she responds that it was not a big deal.
“Galico, you know? You can learn. Our young lady taught me how to read and write and how to read ledgers.”
Sancha answered with a smile.
The problem is that Greta doesn't have time to learn—more precisely, she just wants to lie down and sleep after work—so finding a teacher is not a problem at all.
Miss Ariadne is not the type of person who spares support for her own people.
“I had a dream.”
The dream of becoming an important person.
She dreams of becoming an infectious disease expert, working all over the Central Continent, where her decisions affect the lives of many people, where her judgment determines national affairs, and where her opinions and insights are respected and admired.
Greta lived in a rural village until her father sold her to an old man for 50 florins, forcing her to come to the capital.
She thought she just had to do odd jobs for the family, but she soon realized that 'odd jobs' also included taking care of an old man who had lost his wife at night.
For Greta, who ran away in such a panic and ended up trapped in the Rambouillet Center, it was actually a dream close to a delusion.
“I don’t want it to end here like this.”
Tears streamed down Greta's eyes.
It was the first time that Greta, who had been cheerful as if contracting the Black Death was someone else's story, showed emotional agitation.
“I had a dream that I could become something. A dream that I could become a great... person.”
Greta was embarrassed even saying the words.
But Miss Ariadne may be the last person Greta talks to before she dies.
So Greta mustered up her courage and said the words.
If everything went as planned, it might have made it into the history books.
'Greta, the first female physician in the Etruscan kingdom'. The title changed slightly each time, but whatever the job, it was more than twenty times in her imagination.
“...If I’m going to die like this, I’ll do something to die.”
Greta took a deep breath and looked at Ariadne.
“I heard that you are trying to spread a plague among the Gallico army. I also heard that you are considering how to do so.”
The girl, whose skin was a mix of freckles and a little acne, as befitting her age, spoke in a sharp tone, pressing down on each word.
“I will go.”
When Ariadne didn't answer right away, Greta added.
“I can do this better than anyone else. I’m now an infectious disease expert. What we do is prevent disease, so if we want to spread it, all we have to do is do the opposite.”
Greta raised her voice to Ariadne, who still had no answer. She seemed anxious, afraid of being rejected.
“I’m young and a girl, so I can easily join the military camp! I’m sure they won’t be on guard!”
Until now, Ariadne had been listening to Greta in silence.
Moonlight poured down from above, casting shadows on Ariadne's face, making it difficult for Greta to gauge her expression. Greta urged her again.
“Let me go! I’ll go! Let me do anything!”
Please let me leave a trace that I was alive.
“...Greta.”
Ariadne looked up at Greta. Her face was streaked with tears.
“I... I just can’t tell you to go.”
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