“He confessed that he has a very, very special relationship with the Prince.”
Sancha clicked her tongue. Ariadne bit the tip of her tongue.
As soon as the story of the 'Prince' came up, she asked back, 'Have you heard the story?'
It's almost as if something is certain and they're just checking to see if there are any rumors or not.
Ariadne felt ashamed and sank deeper into the water.
“Am I right?”
She denied it violently, tossing her head underwater. Her black hair swayed like an aquatic creature in the bathtub.
“No, there was nothing.”
Sancha did not listen to the young lady's protests.
“What’s not to say? The day you met the Prince at the castle, your face was really shining.”
Sancha lifted Ariadne's right arm.
“It’s the same today when the carriage overturned and you went to meet the Duke of Taranto’s agent.”
She wiped every nook and cranny of Ariadne's arm while hitting her verbally at the same time.
“Isn’t it because if Guitada is canceled, you won’t have another chance to see the Prince’s face?”
Ariadne's face turned bright red. She looked like she had a lot to say, but she didn't deny it.
Ariadne and Sancha's relationship was one of never telling lies no matter what happened.
“Ugh. Just be honest.”
Ariadne sighed deeply.
“It’s not that simple.”
If anyone asks Ariadne if she hates Alfonso, she doesn't at all.
She loved every minute and every second she had spent with her old lover, her Golden Prince, as clear as the morning air. But if you ask her if she would do anything to be with him again, she would not.
“Alfonso... He deserves someone better than me.”
That doesn't change the fact that she still loves him, but whatever.
Sancha filled a sponge with soap and put her hands into the bathtub. She found Ariadne's chest and torso in the water and gently scrubbed them clean.
It seems that Ariadne wanted to cheer up. But as she wiped, she must have gotten angry, because Sancha straightened her back and shouted.
“Why is this sudden victory?”
Sancha went back to the other side of the bathtub.
“Are you doing this because of your status?”
Ariadne sighed. Of course, there was the issue of status. But that wasn't enough to convince Sancha. Sancha spoke passionately.
“You were a Princess a few years ago, and now you’re suddenly the daughter of a Cardinal. Things have gotten better since then. Why are you suddenly being so reckless now when you were so reckless back then?”
This time it was the turn to wipe the left arm. Sancha pulled Ariadne's left arm out somewhat combatively and shouted.
“They say that the arms bend inward, but in my eyes, you have nothing lacking in the Prince! Look at this. Even your hands are all better. Can’t you see anything today?”
There was not a single blemish on Ariadne's left hand that could be seen by Sancha.
Her flawless, smooth, milky skin, combined with her long, strong pink nails, made her look like a work of art.
“It’s been years! It’s so nice to see your pretty hands again!”
Ariadne forced a smile.
If there was one exception to the rule of no lying between Ariadne and Sancha, it was the secret of their return.
“Really? That gypsy old lady’s medicine seems to be quite effective.”
Sancha was looking at Ariadne's smooth left hand with wonder.
“It’s not like it’s ‘quite effective’? How did it get better so quickly from something so bad? If I sold it, I’d be a millionaire!”
But the Moorish old woman did not 'heal' Ariadne's scars. She merely played a trick on her for a moment.
Ariadne's eyes vividly saw the scar on her left hand, or rather, her left arm, red as blood.
Last full moon, the old Moorish woman gave Ariadne a strong order.
"This is witchcraft. It is not a cure. It is invisible to others. But it is visible to you. Never forget that.”
“Is the difference... That important? Isn’t the result the same, that it’s invisible to others?”
The Moorish old woman clicked her tongue. No matter how clever the Western barbarians may seem, their ignorance is ultimately sky-high.
She had no idea where to start teaching.
She was young... no. Instead of educating the immature barbarian who had lived twice, she first set up axes in various directions.
Next, it was time to offer the prepared incense as an offering. Offering the offering was the beginning of the sacrifice, that is, the content of the prayer.
The song she sang today was a prayer offered to the spirits that had originally lived on this earth on this busy full moon when all the 'awakened ones' were busy.
"This is a sorcery that draws on the foundation of the earth, but honestly, I don’t know how much power the native gods of the western barbarian lands will be able to lend.”
Ariadne didn't know what to say in response, so she just kept her mouth shut.
Since they're already immigrated, there's no need to constantly look down on people by calling them barbarians.
The old Moorish woman paid no attention to what Ariadne thought, and for a long time she muttered, murmured, and danced, took her bearings, and ran about, feeling the air, and at the end, she smiled very broadly.
"Thank you!"
The old gypsy bowed deeply and lowered her cane with a 'clank' sound.
For a moment everything stopped, and Ariadne could tell that the prayer was over.
“Okay, that’s it.”
The old woman handed her staff to Ariadne and said, Ariadne took it absentmindedly.
“As long as the power of the native gods remains, the mark on your left arm will be invisible to others.”
Ariadne looked at her left arm, but nothing happened.
“That power of God... When does it start and how long does it last?”
The pagan gods... Aren't they already ruined? In the Central Continent, even the pagans are a sect of the Yesak Church, so there aren't any believers who worship the completely unfamiliar pagans...?
The old priestess smiled when she saw Ariadne's desperate expression.
“Don’t worry so seriously! The power of the native god can be used even without a sect or followers. It’s just not strong.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And it takes longer than you think. It’ll take about a month. If you offer a sacrifice again at the end of each month, it’ll be filled again… If I’m busy, I might have to skip it sometimes, but don’t worry too much.”
Ariadne finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“But don’t let your guard down too much!”
This is a bit annoying.
“No, what rhythm are you telling me to follow?”
The old Moorish woman also had much to say.
“That’s because you don’t know the way of moderation!”
“What the hell is it? I’ve never heard of it before!”
“That’s because you’re ignorant!”
As the old woman showed signs of swinging her staff as before, Ariadne quickly dodged to the side. The old woman continued her explanation, grumbling.
“Every time it’s shown, the native god has to use his divine power to cover it up. So, if possible, wrap it around with gloves or something and make sure it’s not shown outside.”
“Ah...”
“If one person sees it, 1 divine power is consumed. If 30 people see it, 30 divine power is consumed. If 20,000 people see it, 20,000 divine power is consumed. So, make sure to cover it up in crowded places.”
“I know what the structure is.”
Ariadne, who had been excited about running around in midsummer in a thin muslin dress without gloves, felt a little discouraged.
Since this system could not afford to waste anything, gloves still had to be a necessity.
The old woman felt so sorry for her that she added some consolation.
“If there’s something that requires showing off your arms, do it as a gathering of just a few close friends. If possible, set a date right after I offer my condolences.”
If this were their hometown, this kind of illusive magic spell would have lasted for half a year, but the grandmother, who kept on making the same meaningless noises, did not forget to leave a warning.
“The stain on your arm is like a meter of your karma. It is always visible to your eyes.”
“...”
“Remember, if you forget your own karma, you forget everything.”
...And those who forget the past will never succeed.
Ariadne answered reluctantly.
“I will always keep that in mind.”
The number of people she has killed. The weight of her sins. The karma she must bear.
So Ariadne couldn't reach out to Alfonso first. She would have spilled too much blood to be with him.
And among the blood she had spilled was the blood of Alfonso in her past life.
Sancha asked Ariadne to come and visit her because she had fallen out of her carriage, but there was someone else who actually needed to be visited.
“Ahhh! Aahhh!”
Isabella had been in labor for 42 straight hours, but she still had the energy to scream.
'That's also... It's poisonous...'
Minipin, Countess Bartolini, who had visited her parents' home for the first time in a long time, stood outside the maternity ward with her arms folded and shook her head.
They had been told by the midwife four hours earlier, 'If the baby doesn't come today, you need to prepare yourself mentally.'
Ottavio stood with his face pressed against the wall, a gloomy expression on his face.
Since they were descendants of a noble family of Counts, there were some subjects they could not bring themselves to talk about.
But at least Clemente thought it would be better for Isabella to be dead.
'If Camellia's wedding had been just a month late...'
If that had been the case, Ottavio, now single, could have run to her and apologized in tears, and become a family-in-law to the Castiglione family.
If that had been the case, none of this troublesome situation would have occurred.
Of course, this wouldn't have happened if the wonderful younger brother in front of her hadn't been so obsessed with the woman's face that he hadn't brought that crazy woman home.
“Rub your hands and feet!”
“Bring me hot water!”
"The Countess has lost her temper!”
There was finally some action inside the delivery room. The maids coming and going had unpleasant expressions and the atmosphere was serious.
She finally felt like today was the day Isabella would be held in the arms of the gods.
“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!”
Sancha clicked her tongue. Ariadne bit the tip of her tongue.
As soon as the story of the 'Prince' came up, she asked back, 'Have you heard the story?'
It's almost as if something is certain and they're just checking to see if there are any rumors or not.
Ariadne felt ashamed and sank deeper into the water.
“Am I right?”
She denied it violently, tossing her head underwater. Her black hair swayed like an aquatic creature in the bathtub.
“No, there was nothing.”
Sancha did not listen to the young lady's protests.
“What’s not to say? The day you met the Prince at the castle, your face was really shining.”
Sancha lifted Ariadne's right arm.
“It’s the same today when the carriage overturned and you went to meet the Duke of Taranto’s agent.”
She wiped every nook and cranny of Ariadne's arm while hitting her verbally at the same time.
“Isn’t it because if Guitada is canceled, you won’t have another chance to see the Prince’s face?”
Ariadne's face turned bright red. She looked like she had a lot to say, but she didn't deny it.
Ariadne and Sancha's relationship was one of never telling lies no matter what happened.
“Ugh. Just be honest.”
Ariadne sighed deeply.
“It’s not that simple.”
If anyone asks Ariadne if she hates Alfonso, she doesn't at all.
She loved every minute and every second she had spent with her old lover, her Golden Prince, as clear as the morning air. But if you ask her if she would do anything to be with him again, she would not.
“Alfonso... He deserves someone better than me.”
That doesn't change the fact that she still loves him, but whatever.
Sancha filled a sponge with soap and put her hands into the bathtub. She found Ariadne's chest and torso in the water and gently scrubbed them clean.
It seems that Ariadne wanted to cheer up. But as she wiped, she must have gotten angry, because Sancha straightened her back and shouted.
“Why is this sudden victory?”
Sancha went back to the other side of the bathtub.
“Are you doing this because of your status?”
Ariadne sighed. Of course, there was the issue of status. But that wasn't enough to convince Sancha. Sancha spoke passionately.
“You were a Princess a few years ago, and now you’re suddenly the daughter of a Cardinal. Things have gotten better since then. Why are you suddenly being so reckless now when you were so reckless back then?”
This time it was the turn to wipe the left arm. Sancha pulled Ariadne's left arm out somewhat combatively and shouted.
“They say that the arms bend inward, but in my eyes, you have nothing lacking in the Prince! Look at this. Even your hands are all better. Can’t you see anything today?”
There was not a single blemish on Ariadne's left hand that could be seen by Sancha.
Her flawless, smooth, milky skin, combined with her long, strong pink nails, made her look like a work of art.
“It’s been years! It’s so nice to see your pretty hands again!”
Ariadne forced a smile.
If there was one exception to the rule of no lying between Ariadne and Sancha, it was the secret of their return.
“Really? That gypsy old lady’s medicine seems to be quite effective.”
Sancha was looking at Ariadne's smooth left hand with wonder.
“It’s not like it’s ‘quite effective’? How did it get better so quickly from something so bad? If I sold it, I’d be a millionaire!”
But the Moorish old woman did not 'heal' Ariadne's scars. She merely played a trick on her for a moment.
Ariadne's eyes vividly saw the scar on her left hand, or rather, her left arm, red as blood.
Last full moon, the old Moorish woman gave Ariadne a strong order.
"This is witchcraft. It is not a cure. It is invisible to others. But it is visible to you. Never forget that.”
“Is the difference... That important? Isn’t the result the same, that it’s invisible to others?”
The Moorish old woman clicked her tongue. No matter how clever the Western barbarians may seem, their ignorance is ultimately sky-high.
She had no idea where to start teaching.
She was young... no. Instead of educating the immature barbarian who had lived twice, she first set up axes in various directions.
Next, it was time to offer the prepared incense as an offering. Offering the offering was the beginning of the sacrifice, that is, the content of the prayer.
The song she sang today was a prayer offered to the spirits that had originally lived on this earth on this busy full moon when all the 'awakened ones' were busy.
"This is a sorcery that draws on the foundation of the earth, but honestly, I don’t know how much power the native gods of the western barbarian lands will be able to lend.”
Ariadne didn't know what to say in response, so she just kept her mouth shut.
Since they're already immigrated, there's no need to constantly look down on people by calling them barbarians.
The old Moorish woman paid no attention to what Ariadne thought, and for a long time she muttered, murmured, and danced, took her bearings, and ran about, feeling the air, and at the end, she smiled very broadly.
"Thank you!"
The old gypsy bowed deeply and lowered her cane with a 'clank' sound.
For a moment everything stopped, and Ariadne could tell that the prayer was over.
“Okay, that’s it.”
The old woman handed her staff to Ariadne and said, Ariadne took it absentmindedly.
“As long as the power of the native gods remains, the mark on your left arm will be invisible to others.”
Ariadne looked at her left arm, but nothing happened.
“That power of God... When does it start and how long does it last?”
The pagan gods... Aren't they already ruined? In the Central Continent, even the pagans are a sect of the Yesak Church, so there aren't any believers who worship the completely unfamiliar pagans...?
The old priestess smiled when she saw Ariadne's desperate expression.
“Don’t worry so seriously! The power of the native god can be used even without a sect or followers. It’s just not strong.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And it takes longer than you think. It’ll take about a month. If you offer a sacrifice again at the end of each month, it’ll be filled again… If I’m busy, I might have to skip it sometimes, but don’t worry too much.”
Ariadne finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“But don’t let your guard down too much!”
This is a bit annoying.
“No, what rhythm are you telling me to follow?”
The old Moorish woman also had much to say.
“That’s because you don’t know the way of moderation!”
“What the hell is it? I’ve never heard of it before!”
“That’s because you’re ignorant!”
As the old woman showed signs of swinging her staff as before, Ariadne quickly dodged to the side. The old woman continued her explanation, grumbling.
“Every time it’s shown, the native god has to use his divine power to cover it up. So, if possible, wrap it around with gloves or something and make sure it’s not shown outside.”
“Ah...”
“If one person sees it, 1 divine power is consumed. If 30 people see it, 30 divine power is consumed. If 20,000 people see it, 20,000 divine power is consumed. So, make sure to cover it up in crowded places.”
“I know what the structure is.”
Ariadne, who had been excited about running around in midsummer in a thin muslin dress without gloves, felt a little discouraged.
Since this system could not afford to waste anything, gloves still had to be a necessity.
The old woman felt so sorry for her that she added some consolation.
“If there’s something that requires showing off your arms, do it as a gathering of just a few close friends. If possible, set a date right after I offer my condolences.”
If this were their hometown, this kind of illusive magic spell would have lasted for half a year, but the grandmother, who kept on making the same meaningless noises, did not forget to leave a warning.
“The stain on your arm is like a meter of your karma. It is always visible to your eyes.”
“...”
“Remember, if you forget your own karma, you forget everything.”
...And those who forget the past will never succeed.
Ariadne answered reluctantly.
“I will always keep that in mind.”
The number of people she has killed. The weight of her sins. The karma she must bear.
So Ariadne couldn't reach out to Alfonso first. She would have spilled too much blood to be with him.
And among the blood she had spilled was the blood of Alfonso in her past life.
***
Sancha asked Ariadne to come and visit her because she had fallen out of her carriage, but there was someone else who actually needed to be visited.
“Ahhh! Aahhh!”
Isabella had been in labor for 42 straight hours, but she still had the energy to scream.
'That's also... It's poisonous...'
Minipin, Countess Bartolini, who had visited her parents' home for the first time in a long time, stood outside the maternity ward with her arms folded and shook her head.
They had been told by the midwife four hours earlier, 'If the baby doesn't come today, you need to prepare yourself mentally.'
Ottavio stood with his face pressed against the wall, a gloomy expression on his face.
Since they were descendants of a noble family of Counts, there were some subjects they could not bring themselves to talk about.
But at least Clemente thought it would be better for Isabella to be dead.
'If Camellia's wedding had been just a month late...'
If that had been the case, Ottavio, now single, could have run to her and apologized in tears, and become a family-in-law to the Castiglione family.
If that had been the case, none of this troublesome situation would have occurred.
Of course, this wouldn't have happened if the wonderful younger brother in front of her hadn't been so obsessed with the woman's face that he hadn't brought that crazy woman home.
“Rub your hands and feet!”
“Bring me hot water!”
"The Countess has lost her temper!”
There was finally some action inside the delivery room. The maids coming and going had unpleasant expressions and the atmosphere was serious.
She finally felt like today was the day Isabella would be held in the arms of the gods.
“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!”
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