“You mean Prince Alfonso didn’t seem to want to marry Grand Duchess Gallico?”
Rubina accepted Ottavio's discovery as a wild imagination.
“If they're just engaged, he can put the question of whether or not they’ll get married on the negotiating table and get more out of it.”
Rubina found herself unknowingly letting out a polite remark at Ottavio's insignificance.
That guy can't see many sides and only sees the cross-section right in front of him. He must be a fool who doesn't know that there are times when you have to reject a marriage you want to have.
“How could he not want to get married? If Prince Alfonso had refused that marriage, he would have gone to war and gotten hit in the head with a blunt object.”
There could be no fool who would turn down the Gallico throne that was offered to him for free.
Rubina was convinced that Leo III would offer to marry her if she asked him to.
Alfonso was also, after all, the son of Leo III. He was also the one who would sit on the throne. The throne in the Hall of the Sun was the seat that would ultimately make that choice.
Anyway, she decided what to do with Ottavio.
Rubina practically created the social status of the young man in front of her with her own hands and was a political comrade of the young man's father.
Besides, Ottavio was also her son's friend. Rubina let her guard down and started acting like a friendly aunt to Ottavio.
“Honey, you were embarrassed when you tried to flirt with the Prince’s one-armed knight?”
However, this statement was not made with an aunt-like feeling. Rubina was very direct and had little interest in the feelings of others except Leo III.
“You only do this after you’ve established yourself.”
Ottavio's face, ears, and even the nape of his neck turned red.
“If you do something similar again in the future, I will find it difficult to defend the new Count Contarini in front of His Majesty.”
Rubina continued to advise in the tone of a tavern owner giving advice to a young, fresh-faced regular.
Rubina's original origins were glimpsed in the image of his 'aunt'.
“If you don’t understand, open your eyes wide and listen carefully. Don’t say nonsense like today.”
Ottavio lowered his head and looked at the floor.
Duchess Rubina didn't give a damn what Ottavio was thinking as he looked at the ground.
She has been in too high a position for too long to care about other people's feelings.
Instead, her thoughts were about her son, Cesare.
If he married Lariesa, he would become the King of Gallico, and she was the kind of person she wanted to give her son.
But on second thought, Cesare had no maternal right to the Gallico throne. Ultimately, it was his own fault, and the Duchess became depressed.
It's a dirty world where once you have a golden spoon, you will always be a golden spoon, and once you have a dirt spoon, you will always be a dirt spoon.
"Honey."
"Yes?"
Ottavio, who was very annoyed by the way the Duchess called him, but was in no position to say anything, answered obediently.
The Duchess spoke, sipping red wine in broad daylight.
“Our Cesare. Why doesn’t he return to the capital? Have you been in touch with him lately?”
Ottavio's expression became troubled. He had not been in contact with Cesare since his relationship with Isabella became such and such.
“That’s... It seems like he's completely absorbed in his rural life. I’m not getting replies very often.”
It was a lie. There could be no reply because Ottavio had not contacted Cesare first since the Isabella incident.
Since Cesare was a man who did not make contact first, contact between the two naturally fell through.
But it seemed like it was a satisfactory answer for Rubina.
This was because it meant that the guy who didn't even reply to his best friend was constantly sending letters to his mother.
“Right? I guess so. Oh, I wonder when he’ll come to the capital. It’s more than time for him to get married.”
“Haha...”
“Wait a minute, isn’t he in love with some peasant girl from Castle Pisano? Isn’t that why he’s not coming?”
Ottavio wanted to answer, 'That man may be a libertine, but he has a little love...'
But his real boss didn't ask for his opinion. Ottavio only gave facts.
“As far as I know, there was nothing like that.”
As of the time they were exchanging letters, Cesare's letters contained no mention of women at all, the least since he was eight years old.
"Yes?"
Rubina briefly wondered what might have happened, but soon gave up. There was no particular solution to worrying about it alone in the capital.
She decided to change the subject to something a little more tangible: social gossip.
“That’s right. I heard you broke off your engagement with your fiancée. What happened? Are you not going to get married?”
“Oh, actually, that is...”
Ottavio and Isabella had a secret wedding just for the two of them. They kept it a secret for fear that anyone would notice.
But now that he had received the King's permission to succeed to the earldom and was even included in the three-man cabinet, which was not appropriate for his position, there was no reason to hide it any longer.
Isabella urged Ottavio to tell everyone about their marriage. Ottavio was also anxious to tell everyone.
Even though she was full, Isabella was pretty. He wanted to stamp his family crest on every bastard in the capital and say, “This is my woman!”
“I am already married.”
“What?”
“Due to circumstances, we held a small event with only family members, so please understand that we cannot invite you.”
“Oh my, oh my, oh my.”
Rubina was excited that such a great story came out of a simple question.
“Wasn’t your fiancée incredibly beautiful and rich? What kind of girl stole your heart?”
After saying this, Rubina realized that she could no longer draw on the financial resources of the Castiglione upper house.
She thought that it was money that she should have spent, and if she had blown it, the new Count Contarini should have taken care of providing it himself, so she asked Ottavio brightly.
“Is that girl rich too?”
“That’s not true, but...”
Ottavio also realized why Duchess Rubina was asking this. However, Ottavio took it a little differently.
The thought that Rubina would lower her utility sent shivers down his spine. At the same time, it broke his heart to think that Isabella was being looked down on for not having money.
“She is a wonderful woman. She is smart, witty, and thoughtful. She has great sense, so she will definitely be of help to the Duchess in her work.”
“Hmm...”
“I will bring her here to greet you when I have the chance.”
However, Ottavio, blinded by love, did not dare to confess in front of Duchess Rubina that 'my wife is actually Isabella de Mare, who blew off your son's engagement.'
He unconsciously did the math. You'll know when you see her face when she comes to greet you.
And if the parties are in the same room, Rubina's anger will explode at Isabella, not Ottavio.
This calculation happened very quickly, in a split second.
Ottavio didn't specifically realize that he was thinking this, but he definitely felt a brief moment of relief.
Ottavio recounted to Isabella the conversation he had with Rubina as closely as possible to the original, except for the parts featuring Cesare that he edited out.
“Oh my god! Duchess Rubina scolded you for not acting like that?!”
And Isabella abridged the content most maliciously.
“Oh, right. Did you?”
"Sure!"
Isabella felt a surge of anger. Where the hell is that old woman, waggling her tail and calling another man her honey!
Isabella had a vague idea that "honey" wasn't meant to be used that way, but knowing that and being angry are two completely different things.
“I can’t help you get settled!”
When Isabella became too agitated, Ottavio began to calm his young wife down.
“Bella, don’t be so angry. But it was only thanks to Duchess Rubina that I was included in the three-person cabinet.”
Isabella pouted. Ottavio didn't immediately notice his wife's displeasure and continued to mutter.
“The succession to the earldom was granted by His Majesty the King without any further conditions or delays. These days, they drag it out for years, demanding a ‘show of sincerity’ from the country. The Duchess spoke well to His Majesty, so it was granted right away.”
Isabella's expression grew increasingly worse.
“In a way, it was all thanks to the Duchess that I was able to sort out my relationship with Camellia before ‘Cletus’ came out...”
“Ottavio!”
Wince!
Ottavio just kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t even want to hear that pig’s name!”
“Uh, sorry.”
Isabella pretended to be horrified at the mention of 'Camellia', but in fact, she had no particular feelings for Camellia.
Of course, she was the one who spread the rumor that she was the mistress of the Marquis of Campa, so she was the decisive factor in Cesare's departure.
Just looking at her, she was the kind of girl you would not feel refreshed even if you tore her apart.
But apart from that, Isabella had no reason to feel inferior to Camellia.
Camellia, however pretty, is just a pig. It cannot come close to Isabella, the most beautiful in the capital.
He had also taken Camellia's fiancé away, had broken off the old maid's engagement, and now Isabella herself was the mistress of the Countess Contarini. There was no reason to be afraid of Camellia.
However, Camellia was the magic word that silenced Ottavio.
Whenever Ottavio said something she didn't want to hear, she would shout 'Camellia?!' and Ottavio would become a slut. She was having a lot of fun using this keyword.
“Ouch... I think my stomach hurts. I feel sick.”
“Oh, what should I do with this!”
Ottavio fidgeted and tried to put Isabella at ease.
The two were sitting in the rocking carriage, and he put his hand under Isabella's buttocks to make them a little more comfortable.
“Where are you touching!”
“Uh, sorry.”
At Isabella's outburst, Ottavio bowed his head and apologized.
“Then, shall we get off here and rest for a bit?”
The two were on their way to the countryside in a carriage to take Isabella out for a change of pace.
Isabella was reluctant to appear in society for various reasons.
Ottavio thought it was because his wife was cautious and timid, but in reality, it was simply because she was pregnant and had gained weight, and did not want to see the people she had known before.
“What do you do when you meet someone you know?”
Isabella frowned.
“No one I know would come to a place like this. It’s near the west pier.”
“West Pier?”
Isabella's eyes sparkled.
The west dock is where ships from overseas anchor. Naturally, the docks are lined with stalls of foreign merchants, selling all sorts of unusual items.
The Moorish merchant who once sold Isabella a breastplate was also a man who sold goods obtained from the western docks to the young ladies of noble families.
“...There’s nothing I can do. Let’s take a break for a bit.”
Isabella only hesitated until she was able to get out of the carriage, supported by Ottavio.
After that, she ran to the west dock at an incredible speed that made it hard to believe she was pregnant.
“Wow, it’s really pretty!”
It had been a long time since something like this had happened. Isabella had not spent her money so lavishly since her mother had died.
But now she was Countess Contarini. She was still ill and had not yet fully taken over the ledger, but it was only a matter of time.
And at the moment it didn't really matter, because whatever Isabella pressed for, Ottavio would get it.
“Buy me this!”
Isabella's amethyst eyes sparkled with life. The first thing she picked up was an amethyst ring two shades deeper than her eyes.
“Huh? Hmm? Hahahahaha!”
Ottavio filled the gap with a big laugh until he checked the price list.
He desperately read the handwriting on the ring with his flounder eyes, confirmed that it was '60 ducats' (about 60 million won), paid the money to the merchant, and received the ring.
“Wow! Thank you! My husband is the best!”
“Hahahahaha...”
Isabella noticed that there was something odd about Ottavio's behavior, but she couldn't understand why.
Of course, the amethyst ring was expensive, but it was not a price that was difficult for the Count Contarini family, who were even included in the three-person cabinet, to pay.
'Isn't it money that can be made with just one magic trick? Even if you're still a rookie and can't do it because you're worried about what others think, wouldn't your father have done it all?'
Isabella, who was rolling her head, saw a newly docked ship.
Moorish slaves were disembarking from the ship one after another. Her eyes lit up once more.
“Ottavio! Ottavio! Buy me that, buy me that!”
Recently, it has become very popular among the ladies of the capital to take along Moorish slaves.
The noble lady with the exotic maid who fanned her in the summer was the envy of all.
“Uh, yeah?”
Moorish slaves started at 200 ducats (about 200 million won). Ottavio barely managed to swallow the words, “That’s too expensive,” that was on the tip of his tongue.
The merchant, sensing Isabella's gaze, approached her with a broad smile.
“Oh my, ma’am, you have very high standards! A Moorish slave of the highest quality!”
He added, glancing at Ottavio.
“Everyone says that Moorish slaves are expensive, but considering that you have to pay a lifetime salary to a servant from the Central Continent, they’re not really that expensive! Right!”
Isabella was already deeply engrossed in her shopping. She scanned the slaves passing by with a critic's eye.
Only Ottavio was fidgeting. Please, don't let anything go to your liking...!
“I chose it.”
But the heavens were not on Ottavio's side.
“Uh, huh?”
“Madam! Which child would you like? Our children are all well-educated, gentle, and strong, so whoever you choose will be satisfied...”
Isabella listened to the merchant's words with one ear and let them go out the other, and pointed with her finger at the deck of the ship. What she was pointing at was someone who had not yet come down.
“I want to be that person.”
He was a tall, well-built man, with smooth, obsidian-like skin that hung precariously over bulging muscles.
He was wearing a quilted robe similar to a priest's garment made of colorful silk with cotton stuffed inside, and unusually, he was wearing a black blindfold over his left eye.
At Isabella's pointing finger, the man on deck slowly removed the blindfold. He lowered the blindfold and turned his upper body toward Isabella.
His right eye was a normal black pupil, but his left eye, visible from under the blindfold, was the color of blood red.
Rubina accepted Ottavio's discovery as a wild imagination.
“If they're just engaged, he can put the question of whether or not they’ll get married on the negotiating table and get more out of it.”
Rubina found herself unknowingly letting out a polite remark at Ottavio's insignificance.
That guy can't see many sides and only sees the cross-section right in front of him. He must be a fool who doesn't know that there are times when you have to reject a marriage you want to have.
“How could he not want to get married? If Prince Alfonso had refused that marriage, he would have gone to war and gotten hit in the head with a blunt object.”
There could be no fool who would turn down the Gallico throne that was offered to him for free.
Rubina was convinced that Leo III would offer to marry her if she asked him to.
Alfonso was also, after all, the son of Leo III. He was also the one who would sit on the throne. The throne in the Hall of the Sun was the seat that would ultimately make that choice.
Anyway, she decided what to do with Ottavio.
Rubina practically created the social status of the young man in front of her with her own hands and was a political comrade of the young man's father.
Besides, Ottavio was also her son's friend. Rubina let her guard down and started acting like a friendly aunt to Ottavio.
“Honey, you were embarrassed when you tried to flirt with the Prince’s one-armed knight?”
However, this statement was not made with an aunt-like feeling. Rubina was very direct and had little interest in the feelings of others except Leo III.
“You only do this after you’ve established yourself.”
Ottavio's face, ears, and even the nape of his neck turned red.
“If you do something similar again in the future, I will find it difficult to defend the new Count Contarini in front of His Majesty.”
Rubina continued to advise in the tone of a tavern owner giving advice to a young, fresh-faced regular.
Rubina's original origins were glimpsed in the image of his 'aunt'.
“If you don’t understand, open your eyes wide and listen carefully. Don’t say nonsense like today.”
Ottavio lowered his head and looked at the floor.
Duchess Rubina didn't give a damn what Ottavio was thinking as he looked at the ground.
She has been in too high a position for too long to care about other people's feelings.
Instead, her thoughts were about her son, Cesare.
If he married Lariesa, he would become the King of Gallico, and she was the kind of person she wanted to give her son.
But on second thought, Cesare had no maternal right to the Gallico throne. Ultimately, it was his own fault, and the Duchess became depressed.
It's a dirty world where once you have a golden spoon, you will always be a golden spoon, and once you have a dirt spoon, you will always be a dirt spoon.
"Honey."
"Yes?"
Ottavio, who was very annoyed by the way the Duchess called him, but was in no position to say anything, answered obediently.
The Duchess spoke, sipping red wine in broad daylight.
“Our Cesare. Why doesn’t he return to the capital? Have you been in touch with him lately?”
Ottavio's expression became troubled. He had not been in contact with Cesare since his relationship with Isabella became such and such.
“That’s... It seems like he's completely absorbed in his rural life. I’m not getting replies very often.”
It was a lie. There could be no reply because Ottavio had not contacted Cesare first since the Isabella incident.
Since Cesare was a man who did not make contact first, contact between the two naturally fell through.
But it seemed like it was a satisfactory answer for Rubina.
This was because it meant that the guy who didn't even reply to his best friend was constantly sending letters to his mother.
“Right? I guess so. Oh, I wonder when he’ll come to the capital. It’s more than time for him to get married.”
“Haha...”
“Wait a minute, isn’t he in love with some peasant girl from Castle Pisano? Isn’t that why he’s not coming?”
Ottavio wanted to answer, 'That man may be a libertine, but he has a little love...'
But his real boss didn't ask for his opinion. Ottavio only gave facts.
“As far as I know, there was nothing like that.”
As of the time they were exchanging letters, Cesare's letters contained no mention of women at all, the least since he was eight years old.
"Yes?"
Rubina briefly wondered what might have happened, but soon gave up. There was no particular solution to worrying about it alone in the capital.
She decided to change the subject to something a little more tangible: social gossip.
“That’s right. I heard you broke off your engagement with your fiancée. What happened? Are you not going to get married?”
“Oh, actually, that is...”
Ottavio and Isabella had a secret wedding just for the two of them. They kept it a secret for fear that anyone would notice.
But now that he had received the King's permission to succeed to the earldom and was even included in the three-man cabinet, which was not appropriate for his position, there was no reason to hide it any longer.
Isabella urged Ottavio to tell everyone about their marriage. Ottavio was also anxious to tell everyone.
Even though she was full, Isabella was pretty. He wanted to stamp his family crest on every bastard in the capital and say, “This is my woman!”
“I am already married.”
“What?”
“Due to circumstances, we held a small event with only family members, so please understand that we cannot invite you.”
“Oh my, oh my, oh my.”
Rubina was excited that such a great story came out of a simple question.
“Wasn’t your fiancée incredibly beautiful and rich? What kind of girl stole your heart?”
After saying this, Rubina realized that she could no longer draw on the financial resources of the Castiglione upper house.
She thought that it was money that she should have spent, and if she had blown it, the new Count Contarini should have taken care of providing it himself, so she asked Ottavio brightly.
“Is that girl rich too?”
“That’s not true, but...”
Ottavio also realized why Duchess Rubina was asking this. However, Ottavio took it a little differently.
The thought that Rubina would lower her utility sent shivers down his spine. At the same time, it broke his heart to think that Isabella was being looked down on for not having money.
“She is a wonderful woman. She is smart, witty, and thoughtful. She has great sense, so she will definitely be of help to the Duchess in her work.”
“Hmm...”
“I will bring her here to greet you when I have the chance.”
However, Ottavio, blinded by love, did not dare to confess in front of Duchess Rubina that 'my wife is actually Isabella de Mare, who blew off your son's engagement.'
He unconsciously did the math. You'll know when you see her face when she comes to greet you.
And if the parties are in the same room, Rubina's anger will explode at Isabella, not Ottavio.
This calculation happened very quickly, in a split second.
Ottavio didn't specifically realize that he was thinking this, but he definitely felt a brief moment of relief.
***
Ottavio recounted to Isabella the conversation he had with Rubina as closely as possible to the original, except for the parts featuring Cesare that he edited out.
“Oh my god! Duchess Rubina scolded you for not acting like that?!”
And Isabella abridged the content most maliciously.
“Oh, right. Did you?”
"Sure!"
Isabella felt a surge of anger. Where the hell is that old woman, waggling her tail and calling another man her honey!
Isabella had a vague idea that "honey" wasn't meant to be used that way, but knowing that and being angry are two completely different things.
“I can’t help you get settled!”
When Isabella became too agitated, Ottavio began to calm his young wife down.
“Bella, don’t be so angry. But it was only thanks to Duchess Rubina that I was included in the three-person cabinet.”
Isabella pouted. Ottavio didn't immediately notice his wife's displeasure and continued to mutter.
“The succession to the earldom was granted by His Majesty the King without any further conditions or delays. These days, they drag it out for years, demanding a ‘show of sincerity’ from the country. The Duchess spoke well to His Majesty, so it was granted right away.”
Isabella's expression grew increasingly worse.
“In a way, it was all thanks to the Duchess that I was able to sort out my relationship with Camellia before ‘Cletus’ came out...”
“Ottavio!”
Wince!
Ottavio just kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t even want to hear that pig’s name!”
“Uh, sorry.”
Isabella pretended to be horrified at the mention of 'Camellia', but in fact, she had no particular feelings for Camellia.
Of course, she was the one who spread the rumor that she was the mistress of the Marquis of Campa, so she was the decisive factor in Cesare's departure.
Just looking at her, she was the kind of girl you would not feel refreshed even if you tore her apart.
But apart from that, Isabella had no reason to feel inferior to Camellia.
Camellia, however pretty, is just a pig. It cannot come close to Isabella, the most beautiful in the capital.
He had also taken Camellia's fiancé away, had broken off the old maid's engagement, and now Isabella herself was the mistress of the Countess Contarini. There was no reason to be afraid of Camellia.
However, Camellia was the magic word that silenced Ottavio.
Whenever Ottavio said something she didn't want to hear, she would shout 'Camellia?!' and Ottavio would become a slut. She was having a lot of fun using this keyword.
“Ouch... I think my stomach hurts. I feel sick.”
“Oh, what should I do with this!”
Ottavio fidgeted and tried to put Isabella at ease.
The two were sitting in the rocking carriage, and he put his hand under Isabella's buttocks to make them a little more comfortable.
“Where are you touching!”
“Uh, sorry.”
At Isabella's outburst, Ottavio bowed his head and apologized.
“Then, shall we get off here and rest for a bit?”
The two were on their way to the countryside in a carriage to take Isabella out for a change of pace.
Isabella was reluctant to appear in society for various reasons.
Ottavio thought it was because his wife was cautious and timid, but in reality, it was simply because she was pregnant and had gained weight, and did not want to see the people she had known before.
“What do you do when you meet someone you know?”
Isabella frowned.
“No one I know would come to a place like this. It’s near the west pier.”
“West Pier?”
Isabella's eyes sparkled.
The west dock is where ships from overseas anchor. Naturally, the docks are lined with stalls of foreign merchants, selling all sorts of unusual items.
The Moorish merchant who once sold Isabella a breastplate was also a man who sold goods obtained from the western docks to the young ladies of noble families.
“...There’s nothing I can do. Let’s take a break for a bit.”
Isabella only hesitated until she was able to get out of the carriage, supported by Ottavio.
After that, she ran to the west dock at an incredible speed that made it hard to believe she was pregnant.
“Wow, it’s really pretty!”
It had been a long time since something like this had happened. Isabella had not spent her money so lavishly since her mother had died.
But now she was Countess Contarini. She was still ill and had not yet fully taken over the ledger, but it was only a matter of time.
And at the moment it didn't really matter, because whatever Isabella pressed for, Ottavio would get it.
“Buy me this!”
Isabella's amethyst eyes sparkled with life. The first thing she picked up was an amethyst ring two shades deeper than her eyes.
“Huh? Hmm? Hahahahaha!”
Ottavio filled the gap with a big laugh until he checked the price list.
He desperately read the handwriting on the ring with his flounder eyes, confirmed that it was '60 ducats' (about 60 million won), paid the money to the merchant, and received the ring.
“Wow! Thank you! My husband is the best!”
“Hahahahaha...”
Isabella noticed that there was something odd about Ottavio's behavior, but she couldn't understand why.
Of course, the amethyst ring was expensive, but it was not a price that was difficult for the Count Contarini family, who were even included in the three-person cabinet, to pay.
'Isn't it money that can be made with just one magic trick? Even if you're still a rookie and can't do it because you're worried about what others think, wouldn't your father have done it all?'
Isabella, who was rolling her head, saw a newly docked ship.
Moorish slaves were disembarking from the ship one after another. Her eyes lit up once more.
“Ottavio! Ottavio! Buy me that, buy me that!”
Recently, it has become very popular among the ladies of the capital to take along Moorish slaves.
The noble lady with the exotic maid who fanned her in the summer was the envy of all.
“Uh, yeah?”
Moorish slaves started at 200 ducats (about 200 million won). Ottavio barely managed to swallow the words, “That’s too expensive,” that was on the tip of his tongue.
The merchant, sensing Isabella's gaze, approached her with a broad smile.
“Oh my, ma’am, you have very high standards! A Moorish slave of the highest quality!”
He added, glancing at Ottavio.
“Everyone says that Moorish slaves are expensive, but considering that you have to pay a lifetime salary to a servant from the Central Continent, they’re not really that expensive! Right!”
Isabella was already deeply engrossed in her shopping. She scanned the slaves passing by with a critic's eye.
Only Ottavio was fidgeting. Please, don't let anything go to your liking...!
“I chose it.”
But the heavens were not on Ottavio's side.
“Uh, huh?”
“Madam! Which child would you like? Our children are all well-educated, gentle, and strong, so whoever you choose will be satisfied...”
Isabella listened to the merchant's words with one ear and let them go out the other, and pointed with her finger at the deck of the ship. What she was pointing at was someone who had not yet come down.
“I want to be that person.”
He was a tall, well-built man, with smooth, obsidian-like skin that hung precariously over bulging muscles.
He was wearing a quilted robe similar to a priest's garment made of colorful silk with cotton stuffed inside, and unusually, he was wearing a black blindfold over his left eye.
At Isabella's pointing finger, the man on deck slowly removed the blindfold. He lowered the blindfold and turned his upper body toward Isabella.
His right eye was a normal black pupil, but his left eye, visible from under the blindfold, was the color of blood red.
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