Ariadne was lost in thought as she walked through the ballroom escorted by Cesare.
In fact, she was not without some concerns about Isabella's remarks.
“I have evidence!”
“Oh, did you happen to steal her diary?”
Ariadne wasn't the type to keep a separate diary.
To her, the correspondence between the ledger and the business correspondence was like a diary.
But if Isabella were to look for something close to a diary in the general sense, it would be the letters she writes to Alfonso, a diary that reveals her intimate feelings.
And the recent ones were not delivered.
Half of it was because she was tired of sending letters that had no answer, but the other half was Ariadne's problem.
Every time she felt swayed by Cesare, she wrote down her feelings in a letter. It was a kind of confession.
"Dear Alfonso, if I tell you what happened today, you won't believe me!
His Majesty Leo III wanted to make me his second wife! Duke Cesare stormed the palace with a sword and barely managed to stop him.
The appointment of the second wife has been changed to the appointment of the Duke of Pisano's fiancée. I have no idea how to resolve this...
Why Duke Cesare did such a thing... well, it's hard to understand. But really, it's true that thanks to him, I was able to escape the crisis.
His Majesty will probably not leave Duke Cesare alone, and I feel sorry for him... My feelings are complicated. (continued)
December 3, 1123,
Your Ariadne. "
"To my beloved Alfonso.
Today, I am not even qualified to give you such adjectives. I am a worthless, godless piece of trash.
Cesare kissed me. I didn't refuse. How could I have done such a thing to you?
What on earth was I thinking? What on earth was I doing in the drizzle?
January 11, 1123.
"Alfonso.
It doesn't seem like much time has passed. I'm afraid of memories fading away.
No, actually, I think you want to forget too much. Why won't you reply? Have you forgotten me?
I always think in my head that there is something wrong with the sea route. Something is wrong with the route the letters travel.
However, while the gold is delivered normally, not a single letter is returned.
As time goes by, I become more and more anxious, and negative thoughts start to creep in. Alfonso has forgotten about me.
With the military funds I sent, you started a new journey with the desert dancer and the female knight on the battlefield.
No, you'd rather have another woman.
Is it that you are just fed up with me without any external temptation? Are you disappointed in me? But even if you are, I have nothing to say. Because I did something to deserve it.
The devil whispers in your mind, telling you to abandon yourself before you are abandoned.
And the devil came to me in human clothes, so familiar and sweet.
I'm kicking it out, I'm kicking it out. But really, I'm not sure if I've done my part.
March 2, 1123.
"Unfaithful."
"Ari?"
Ariadne's reverie was broken by a pleasant tenor voice.
In the 'Lily Room', she had been thinking about Alfonso for two years, but the man now escorting her from the seat next to her was not the golden Prince, but the blazing red Duke.
“What are you thinking about?”
“...It’s nothing.”
She couldn't answer any better than that.
“...I’m just a little tired.”
“Well, it’s understandable that you’d be tired.”
Cesare, who knew nothing, smiled refreshingly. The confrontation with Isabella was tiring for him too.
“Let’s go to the room my mother gave us. It’s right nearby.”
Past the long corridor leading from the 'Lily Room', there was a collection of small rooms that could be used as powder rooms or temporary rest areas for guests.
Being assigned a private room was a great honor because it was proof of one's special relationship with the host of the party, and those who were assigned a room would show their favor by giving up their seats in groups of three or five.
Those who couldn't make it there or were on the periphery were standing in the hallway, hoping that maybe they'd get lucky and be called out spontaneously, or were just people-watching.
There were small gasps as a couple in matching blood-red robes appeared in the hallway.
“Oh my god! It’s Duke Cesare!”
“Next to him is Counteas de Mare!”
“I never thought I’d see them this close!”
Cesare smiled broadly at the people gathered, pretended to know them, took Ariadne by the hand, and led her to the largest and best room assigned to him—or rather, to which he had twisted his mother's wrist.
“Miss, come inside.”
If it were other people, it would be a room that could accommodate at least 8-9 people.
There was an exclamation from those who saw the two of them entering the space alone.
“Those two will be the only ones enjoying such luxury at this ball!”
“I would cry if I saw couples wandering around the balcony and garden, I would cry.”
“But who else could be so arrogant and proud besides those two?”
“That’s true.”
The Duke of the North, a formally recognized member of the royal family and a powerful mother, and his official fiancée.
It's a perfect situation where there's no one to tackle.
As soon as Cesare entered the room, he closed the door.
Click.
Outside noise was blocked out, and the beautiful interior finally came into view.
Tapestry hanging on the wall, tables and end tables decorated with fresh flowers, a long, delicate silk sofa, a large bed in one corner, and a curtain covering the bed.
As soon as Cesare entered the room, he plopped down on the sofa and took off his cloak and gloves embroidered with laurel and deer designs.
“Ugh, this is kind of bothering me.”
The royal family's emblem inevitably carries some weight.
Cesare was gradually coming of age, having grown out of the days when he had been desperate to possess that sentence.
Inside the room, a fireplace was crackling.
It was a little past the season to light a fireplace, but it was hastily lit at Cesare's special request.
Ariadne never took off her gloves even though the season for wearing them was coming to an end.
Naturally, she always wore winter clothes that matched the gloves, such as a cloak or an overcoat.
Cesare was wondering if Ariadne was in poor health and was suffering from a cold.
Any Casanova must always keep a close eye on the woman's condition.
Cesare advised Ariadne.
“Ari, make yourself comfortable. This is the space you were given.”
Ariadne smiled happily but did not take off her gloves.
Inside the room, drinks and finger foods were already laid out. Cesare, feeling relaxed, picked up a glass of fruit wine.
“Can I drink? It’s a ball.”
Cesare, who knew that Ariadne hated drinking alcohol, asked her permission in advance.
Ariadne nodded. Her head was complicated and she didn't want to argue with Cesare.
Cesare, too, was troubled by various thoughts.
He drank the fruit wine in one gulp and barely managed to hold back the question he had been meaning to ask.
He wasn't drunk enough to ask her that question outright. Instead, he called her over.
“Ari, come here.”
A fireplace was burning beside the long couch. She grumbled slightly as she moved next to Cesare.
“It’s hot in here. It’s right next to the fireplace.”
“Miss, aren’t you cold?”
Cesare questioned.
“That’s why I asked for a separate fireplace.”
He moved to the side, took off the thin shawl that Ariadne was wearing on her shoulders, and hung it on the rail of the chair.
The blood-red dress he had painstakingly chosen was revealed.
“If you’re hot, just take it off.”
It was a dress with layers of tops that looked like tulips.
Ariadne wore three layers of *partlet, a chemise underneath, a *corpique, and a *robe, so even excluding the shawl, she was wearing more than six layers of clothing.
He watched her silently, then took the first partlet off his lips and bit it.
The thin partlets made of lace peeled off easily without much resistance, just as they were made to be.
"Ah."
Ariadne looked up at Cesare, her eyes slightly puzzled, slightly protesting.
But Cesare cut off her protests with a smooth kiss.
“Shhh.”
In fact, she was not without some concerns about Isabella's remarks.
“I have evidence!”
“Oh, did you happen to steal her diary?”
Ariadne wasn't the type to keep a separate diary.
To her, the correspondence between the ledger and the business correspondence was like a diary.
But if Isabella were to look for something close to a diary in the general sense, it would be the letters she writes to Alfonso, a diary that reveals her intimate feelings.
And the recent ones were not delivered.
Half of it was because she was tired of sending letters that had no answer, but the other half was Ariadne's problem.
Every time she felt swayed by Cesare, she wrote down her feelings in a letter. It was a kind of confession.
"Dear Alfonso, if I tell you what happened today, you won't believe me!
His Majesty Leo III wanted to make me his second wife! Duke Cesare stormed the palace with a sword and barely managed to stop him.
The appointment of the second wife has been changed to the appointment of the Duke of Pisano's fiancée. I have no idea how to resolve this...
Why Duke Cesare did such a thing... well, it's hard to understand. But really, it's true that thanks to him, I was able to escape the crisis.
His Majesty will probably not leave Duke Cesare alone, and I feel sorry for him... My feelings are complicated. (continued)
December 3, 1123,
Your Ariadne. "
"To my beloved Alfonso.
Today, I am not even qualified to give you such adjectives. I am a worthless, godless piece of trash.
Cesare kissed me. I didn't refuse. How could I have done such a thing to you?
What on earth was I thinking? What on earth was I doing in the drizzle?
January 11, 1123.
"Alfonso.
It doesn't seem like much time has passed. I'm afraid of memories fading away.
No, actually, I think you want to forget too much. Why won't you reply? Have you forgotten me?
I always think in my head that there is something wrong with the sea route. Something is wrong with the route the letters travel.
However, while the gold is delivered normally, not a single letter is returned.
As time goes by, I become more and more anxious, and negative thoughts start to creep in. Alfonso has forgotten about me.
With the military funds I sent, you started a new journey with the desert dancer and the female knight on the battlefield.
No, you'd rather have another woman.
Is it that you are just fed up with me without any external temptation? Are you disappointed in me? But even if you are, I have nothing to say. Because I did something to deserve it.
The devil whispers in your mind, telling you to abandon yourself before you are abandoned.
And the devil came to me in human clothes, so familiar and sweet.
I'm kicking it out, I'm kicking it out. But really, I'm not sure if I've done my part.
March 2, 1123.
"Unfaithful."
"Ari?"
Ariadne's reverie was broken by a pleasant tenor voice.
In the 'Lily Room', she had been thinking about Alfonso for two years, but the man now escorting her from the seat next to her was not the golden Prince, but the blazing red Duke.
“What are you thinking about?”
“...It’s nothing.”
She couldn't answer any better than that.
“...I’m just a little tired.”
“Well, it’s understandable that you’d be tired.”
Cesare, who knew nothing, smiled refreshingly. The confrontation with Isabella was tiring for him too.
“Let’s go to the room my mother gave us. It’s right nearby.”
Past the long corridor leading from the 'Lily Room', there was a collection of small rooms that could be used as powder rooms or temporary rest areas for guests.
Being assigned a private room was a great honor because it was proof of one's special relationship with the host of the party, and those who were assigned a room would show their favor by giving up their seats in groups of three or five.
Those who couldn't make it there or were on the periphery were standing in the hallway, hoping that maybe they'd get lucky and be called out spontaneously, or were just people-watching.
There were small gasps as a couple in matching blood-red robes appeared in the hallway.
“Oh my god! It’s Duke Cesare!”
“Next to him is Counteas de Mare!”
“I never thought I’d see them this close!”
Cesare smiled broadly at the people gathered, pretended to know them, took Ariadne by the hand, and led her to the largest and best room assigned to him—or rather, to which he had twisted his mother's wrist.
“Miss, come inside.”
If it were other people, it would be a room that could accommodate at least 8-9 people.
There was an exclamation from those who saw the two of them entering the space alone.
“Those two will be the only ones enjoying such luxury at this ball!”
“I would cry if I saw couples wandering around the balcony and garden, I would cry.”
“But who else could be so arrogant and proud besides those two?”
“That’s true.”
The Duke of the North, a formally recognized member of the royal family and a powerful mother, and his official fiancée.
It's a perfect situation where there's no one to tackle.
As soon as Cesare entered the room, he closed the door.
Click.
Outside noise was blocked out, and the beautiful interior finally came into view.
Tapestry hanging on the wall, tables and end tables decorated with fresh flowers, a long, delicate silk sofa, a large bed in one corner, and a curtain covering the bed.
As soon as Cesare entered the room, he plopped down on the sofa and took off his cloak and gloves embroidered with laurel and deer designs.
“Ugh, this is kind of bothering me.”
The royal family's emblem inevitably carries some weight.
Cesare was gradually coming of age, having grown out of the days when he had been desperate to possess that sentence.
Inside the room, a fireplace was crackling.
It was a little past the season to light a fireplace, but it was hastily lit at Cesare's special request.
Ariadne never took off her gloves even though the season for wearing them was coming to an end.
Naturally, she always wore winter clothes that matched the gloves, such as a cloak or an overcoat.
Cesare was wondering if Ariadne was in poor health and was suffering from a cold.
Any Casanova must always keep a close eye on the woman's condition.
Cesare advised Ariadne.
“Ari, make yourself comfortable. This is the space you were given.”
Ariadne smiled happily but did not take off her gloves.
Inside the room, drinks and finger foods were already laid out. Cesare, feeling relaxed, picked up a glass of fruit wine.
“Can I drink? It’s a ball.”
Cesare, who knew that Ariadne hated drinking alcohol, asked her permission in advance.
Ariadne nodded. Her head was complicated and she didn't want to argue with Cesare.
Cesare, too, was troubled by various thoughts.
He drank the fruit wine in one gulp and barely managed to hold back the question he had been meaning to ask.
He wasn't drunk enough to ask her that question outright. Instead, he called her over.
“Ari, come here.”
A fireplace was burning beside the long couch. She grumbled slightly as she moved next to Cesare.
“It’s hot in here. It’s right next to the fireplace.”
“Miss, aren’t you cold?”
Cesare questioned.
“That’s why I asked for a separate fireplace.”
He moved to the side, took off the thin shawl that Ariadne was wearing on her shoulders, and hung it on the rail of the chair.
The blood-red dress he had painstakingly chosen was revealed.
“If you’re hot, just take it off.”
It was a dress with layers of tops that looked like tulips.
Ariadne wore three layers of *partlet, a chemise underneath, a *corpique, and a *robe, so even excluding the shawl, she was wearing more than six layers of clothing.
He watched her silently, then took the first partlet off his lips and bit it.
The thin partlets made of lace peeled off easily without much resistance, just as they were made to be.
"Ah."
Ariadne looked up at Cesare, her eyes slightly puzzled, slightly protesting.
But Cesare cut off her protests with a smooth kiss.
“Shhh.”
Red lips came in. His lips were dry and a little warmer than usual.
The sweet and refreshing taste of the fruit wine he had just had lingered in the air.
While his lips were bewildering Ariadne's mind, his right hand moved purposefully and removed the second partlet.
She shook her head and tried to push Cesare's hand away, but his kisses pursued her persistently.
While giving her a moment to breathe, Cesare whispered a sigh between his lips.
“Don’t think about it.”
His breath tickled her earlobes and the nape of her neck.
“We will get married, and you will be my wife and the mistress of the Pisano estate.”
It was a promise she had never heard of before in her life. However, it was also an empty promise that Cesare had issued so frequently in her previous life.
Ariadne carefully pushed Cesare away. It was a hand that even she hesitated with, unsure of herself, but a rejection was a rejection.
"...Don’t do this.”
But Cesare, who would normally have backed down at this point, was persistent today.
Perhaps it was because of the story of Prince Alfonso, the half-brother whom he had forgotten.
He just laughed it off, telling her not to talk nonsense in front of Isabella.
But once the anxiety raised its head, it wouldn't subside on its own. He wanted to be sure.
“...Ari, do you love me?”
Ariadne couldn't answer.
“...”
A deathly silence fell on the enchanting atmosphere where body temperature met body temperature.
Cesare tried to keep his expression straight, but Ariadne sensed the disappointment, or rather despair, in his aquamarine eyes.
The despair of a soul so fragile that its very existence seems ready to collapse.
She couldn't turn away from those eyes. But it wasn't something she could answer with love.
So instead, she followed Cesare's strategy: she covered his mouth with her lips, cutting off any further comments.
“Ha...!”
Cesare was helplessly crushed by her unprecedentedly aggressive advances.
His mind went blank and all thoughts flew away. He began to indulge in her lips without thinking.
“Ugh...!”
A thick mood filled the room. Cesare pursued Ariadne with impulsive abandon.
Kissing wasn't the only thing he was passionate about.
As their lips passionately met, the third partlet disappeared into Corpique's mouth.
Cesare, who had stripped off the last layer of protection, felt along her side with his right hand, searching for the button that held Corpique in place.
He looked down at Ariadne, his lips parting for a moment.
Ariadne, looking up at Cesare wearing only a corpique and not a single partlet, was indescribably charming.
The chest that was pushed down on the chair and pushed up onto the corpique by gravity was very beautiful.
He didn't want to show it to anyone. He wanted to keep it exclusive forever.
“...Forget about Alfonso. I’ll make you happy.”
He kissed her lips again.
"I love you."
Ariadne looked up at Cesare from her recliner. The present and the past intersected.
In the past, Cesare had easily subdued Ariadne, who was only his fiancée.
Living in his house and having no one to trust among her parents or siblings, the young Ariadne of her previous life was helpless against the smooth touch of Cesare, and soon gave herself over completely.
The nightmare from that moment flashed through Ariadne's mind.
However, the way Cesare treated her at that time and the way Cesare treated her now were completely different.
He muttered, stroking her hair and the nape of her neck with his left hand.
“I want to live in the same house as you, have you next to me, and have you bear my children.”
Cesare, who forced her to chew birth control pills, Cesare, who always told her to follow him one step behind, Cesare, who said he was a waste for her, who had an ugly face and only had a body to show for him.
Is it really okay to think that he no longer exists?
Two more buttons on Corpique's shirt were undone.
“Cesare, this is...”
This may be her last chance to protect herself.
Ariadne appealed, pushing away Cesare's right hand. There were a few tears in her eyes from fear.
“I still...”
Cesare sat half-mounted on top of Ariadne, who was lying reclining on the couch, and stared blankly down at her face for a long time.
The current Ariadne looked like a small baby bird.
She was helpless, completely at his mercy, delicate and beautiful.
If he were to subdue her by force, it would be quite possible.
Ariadne pushed away Cesare's hands again, this time with both hands. Her expression was one of longing.
“This is a little...”
Cesare fought fiercely with his inner idiot. He really wanted to ask Ariadne.
How far did you go with Alfonso, how far did you allow him to go?
Cesare didn't care about other men even as much as a pebble on his foot, but he cared about one man, Alfonso, to the point of going crazy.
He wanted to push her, conquer her, and scream at her if she resisted.
He asked her if she gave him permission. If she loved him, she should raise the white flag and open the gates.
“Please...”
Her moist eyes followed Cesare's gaze.
Her eyelashes were slightly wet with tears, and her green eyes looked more baby-like than usual, with pupils dilated, perhaps out of fear.
“Ari...”
...He eventually fought and won against the ugly desires within him.
He swallowed dryly, and instead of taking off Ariadne's corpique, he grabbed her gloved hand that was blocking his own.
Her neck and face were flushed with excitement, nervousness, or both.
Cesare kissed her lightly on the lips.
It was meant to be that day, but Ariadne was startled and trembled at the additional physical contact.
Cesare felt a little miserable at the sight of her being afraid of him.
What did I do that makes you so scared? Just because it's your first time?
Cesare had dated many women over the years. Some of them were married, but there were also countless virgins.
But Ariadne was by far the first woman to react like this.
Then, because of his notoriety? ...Was it really that bad?
Cesare, wondering inwardly what the problem might have been, pulled at the red silk glove that covered Ariadne's left hand from her left elbow instead of her corpique.
Ariadne's face turned pale for a moment.
He spoke without noticing her expression because he was so absorbed in his own thoughts.
“I won’t touch you anymore today. Take off your gloves and make yourself comfortable. It’s hot.”
His words and her shrill screams intersected at the same time.
“Don't touch me!”
Cesare questioned for a moment.
Why are you so angry at a glove, not even Corpique?
"What?"
And he kept pulling on her gloves by inertia because he was not convinced by Ariadne's words.
Her left glove was more than halfway removed, exposing her elbow.
Ouch!!
Sparks flew before Cesare's eyes. He had been slapped.
"What?"
And he kept pulling on her gloves by inertia because he was not convinced by Ariadne's words.
Her left glove was more than halfway removed, exposing her elbow.
Ouch!!
Sparks flew before Cesare's eyes. He had been slapped.
* Partlet: A chest cover that covers the chest and neck to hide a wide, fine square neckline.
* Corpique: A type of corset, a garment worn on the upper body that supports the entire torso.
* Robe: The outermost part of a dress worn by women in the late 14th century or early 15th century.
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