The late spring sunlight poured into the room, blindingly.
The Ducal Palace of Taranto was a sun-drenched mansion that occupied an entire hill in the heart of Bocca della Giano.
It was built several generations ago, when the Duke was not the owner of the Taranto estate, but a very close collaborator of the de Carlo family.
This old house, with its honest granite frame rather than the more popular marble, was large, solid, and warm.
Ariadne felt that this mansion really resembled Alfonso.
It was a somewhat hasty belief, recognized on the first visit and confirmed on the second, but this type of impression is usually the first impression that lasts until the end.
“We’ve met a few times in the past.”
Behind the Prince, who opened his mouth with difficulty, there was a wide-open window.
The reception room, which faces southwest, was particularly exposed to sunlight, even in the mansion of the Duke of Taranto, where sunlight was felt all over the body.
“I didn’t have a chance to talk to you separately.”
The eyes were dazzling. Alfonso's hair, which he had returned from Yesak, was closer in color to desert sand than to golden thread.
His hair also seemed to have faded as if his skin had been tanned by the scorching desert sun.
With his body growing larger than before and his voice becoming more heavy and deep, he seemed like a completely different person at first glance.
That fact always pained Ariadne.
Because it made her have the baseless illusion that the man she loved was no longer in this world.
But today's Alfonso resembles the boy Prince from a few years ago.
It was impossible to tell whether it was his golden hair, bathed in the sun of San Carlo, or hia occasional bright smile, which contributed more.
“How have you been? Are you feeling well?”
Alfonso's expression was hard to read because of the backlight. Nevertheless, Ariadne was certain.
Alfonso's eyes would be burning hot. That would be the Alfonso she knew.
But Ariadne, who was under Alfonso's fierce gaze, lowered her head.
Knowing and answering were two different things. She couldn't think of anything to say.
She was not a naive young lady who was shy in front of the Prince. There was clearly a reason for this instinctive feeling of wanting to avoid things.
'...Alfonso. What on earth are you thinking?'
The question should have been more refined. In fact, she didn't care what he thought. She just wanted Alfonso to want her.
However, there was a question of 'how' he wanted it. Raphael clearly said that Alfonso was married to the Princess of Lariesa.
If that were true, Alfonso would not be in a position to treat her like this.
Of course, there was one exception: if Prince Alfonso had decided to openly follow in his father's footsteps, then everything would make sense.
'That's not...'
It was natural that she didn't want to. No woman wants to be the government of the man she loves. But that was actually a minor issue.
Above all, Ariadne did not want to confirm that Alfonso had become that kind of person.
She didn't want to disappoint him. Ariadne had been seeing Alfonso for a very long time.
He, who had been her sister's husband in a previous life, taught Ariadne that there were such men in the world.
He didn't make all the choices that Cesare made. Watching Alfonso, she first learned that there are people who can do that.
If the upright Prince she thought was the only one in the world turned out to be someone like his father, she would feel like an adventurer who realized that the bluebird she had been searching for her entire life was gone.
Disappointment in people hurts the most.
'If Raphael is not wrong...'
Raphael returned in high spirits and shouted, 'Prince Alfonso is already married to the Princess of Lariesa.'
But even after that, there was no talk of a wedding, no mention of a Princess coming from abroad, no, there was not even an official declaration of marriage.
Was the engagement distorted into a marriage? Is there something wrong with the wedding vows?
It could just be that the wedding preparations were taking too long, but deep down Ariadne didn't believe that Alfonso was a married man.
It was a belief that was separate from the facts because it was an image that contradicted what she knew about Alfonso de Carlo.
But even if such a dreamlike hope had become reality, Alfonso's approach was scary.
'...Will you really want me after you find out everything I've done?'
Ariadne was not perfect. As soon as Alfonso left, she was betrothed to his brother.
They kept saying it was just a superficial engagement, but in the end, it became a sticky relationship filled with hatred, tears, and feelings.
She had truly loved Cesare at least once in her past and present life.
It's not that she disliked Alfonso.
However, it was not that she was trying to push Alfonso away out of guilt, as she had told Sancha, or simply because she felt sorry for Alfonso.
Ariadne simply did not want to board the chariot of happiness, ascend to the edge of the entrance to heaven, and then plummet to the ground and crash down on the surface.
She didn't want to get hurt. It was a cowardly turn away.
'I didn't know you were this kind of woman.'
The imaginary Alfonso spits out coldly and turns around. He pushes away the hand Ariadne is holding.
All that is visible is Alfonso's broad back, which can never be hugged again.
'You pretended to be nice, but in the end, a relationship with my stepbrother was something you wanted all along.'
No! That's not what I wanted! I never pretended to be nice!
She tried to scream, but her throat was so tight that no sound came out.
'Go back to Cesare. He's the only man you've ever loved in two lives.'
No!
'That's what the letter you wrote said. You forgot about me and gave him your lips, but you were seriously contemplating whether or not to give your body to him.'
After Isabella stole the letters she had written to Alfonso but had not sent, Ariadne burned all the remaining letters in the house. Now no one could see them.
No, even before they get there, there's no way Alfonso would know about her past life.
But the delusion ran wild like a wild horse, paying no attention to the truth.
'I will start anew by meeting a pure and innocent girl with no past. A woman of high status, fit for the position of a Princess and, in the future, a Queen. A person who can give birth to a successor to my royal family. Have we met before? Say hello. The mother of my future child, Lariesa.'
There was not even a cry of 'no' here. Her objectivity was suffocating her.
"Ari?"
And at the sound of her familiar name being called, she opened her eyes wide.
"Are you okay?"
Alfonso's large, blue-gray eyes looked down at her from across the table.
His pupils were unusually large compared to others, reminiscent of the eyes of a puppy or a calf. The moment Ariadne looked into his eyes, she felt a strange sense of stability.
She opened her mouth slightly with a blank expression. Alfonso, who thought that Ariadne was offended by the title, made an awkward excuse.
“No, that. I called Countess de Mare several times, but there was no answer.”
Ariadne let out a long sigh. It was a sigh of relief.
“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”
She blinked a few times. Her eyes were very dry. Her mouth was dry, too. She fumbled for something to drink.
But to Alfonso's eyes, Ariadne's face, with her lush eyelashes fluttering, seemed to be filled with deep thought.
“What’s wrong, Ari?”
Alfonso handed Ariadne the new cup of water that was in front of him and asked.
When he thought she was feeling down, he found himself using the kindest tone he could muster.
“I can solve most problems.”
In fact, even the most difficult problems could be solved. Prince Alfonso has 800 heavy knights under his command.
He was the most powerful single unit within the Etruscan kingdom. He was a man who could do anything, although it was difficult to clean up after himself.
“No, nothing happened.”
How do I tell you that I'm afraid you'll be disappointed in me?
“I can't get help from the lower level.”
The Ducal Palace of Taranto was a sun-drenched mansion that occupied an entire hill in the heart of Bocca della Giano.
It was built several generations ago, when the Duke was not the owner of the Taranto estate, but a very close collaborator of the de Carlo family.
This old house, with its honest granite frame rather than the more popular marble, was large, solid, and warm.
Ariadne felt that this mansion really resembled Alfonso.
It was a somewhat hasty belief, recognized on the first visit and confirmed on the second, but this type of impression is usually the first impression that lasts until the end.
“We’ve met a few times in the past.”
Behind the Prince, who opened his mouth with difficulty, there was a wide-open window.
The reception room, which faces southwest, was particularly exposed to sunlight, even in the mansion of the Duke of Taranto, where sunlight was felt all over the body.
“I didn’t have a chance to talk to you separately.”
The eyes were dazzling. Alfonso's hair, which he had returned from Yesak, was closer in color to desert sand than to golden thread.
His hair also seemed to have faded as if his skin had been tanned by the scorching desert sun.
With his body growing larger than before and his voice becoming more heavy and deep, he seemed like a completely different person at first glance.
That fact always pained Ariadne.
Because it made her have the baseless illusion that the man she loved was no longer in this world.
But today's Alfonso resembles the boy Prince from a few years ago.
It was impossible to tell whether it was his golden hair, bathed in the sun of San Carlo, or hia occasional bright smile, which contributed more.
“How have you been? Are you feeling well?”
Alfonso's expression was hard to read because of the backlight. Nevertheless, Ariadne was certain.
Alfonso's eyes would be burning hot. That would be the Alfonso she knew.
But Ariadne, who was under Alfonso's fierce gaze, lowered her head.
Knowing and answering were two different things. She couldn't think of anything to say.
She was not a naive young lady who was shy in front of the Prince. There was clearly a reason for this instinctive feeling of wanting to avoid things.
'...Alfonso. What on earth are you thinking?'
The question should have been more refined. In fact, she didn't care what he thought. She just wanted Alfonso to want her.
However, there was a question of 'how' he wanted it. Raphael clearly said that Alfonso was married to the Princess of Lariesa.
If that were true, Alfonso would not be in a position to treat her like this.
Of course, there was one exception: if Prince Alfonso had decided to openly follow in his father's footsteps, then everything would make sense.
'That's not...'
It was natural that she didn't want to. No woman wants to be the government of the man she loves. But that was actually a minor issue.
Above all, Ariadne did not want to confirm that Alfonso had become that kind of person.
She didn't want to disappoint him. Ariadne had been seeing Alfonso for a very long time.
He, who had been her sister's husband in a previous life, taught Ariadne that there were such men in the world.
He didn't make all the choices that Cesare made. Watching Alfonso, she first learned that there are people who can do that.
If the upright Prince she thought was the only one in the world turned out to be someone like his father, she would feel like an adventurer who realized that the bluebird she had been searching for her entire life was gone.
Disappointment in people hurts the most.
'If Raphael is not wrong...'
Raphael returned in high spirits and shouted, 'Prince Alfonso is already married to the Princess of Lariesa.'
But even after that, there was no talk of a wedding, no mention of a Princess coming from abroad, no, there was not even an official declaration of marriage.
Was the engagement distorted into a marriage? Is there something wrong with the wedding vows?
It could just be that the wedding preparations were taking too long, but deep down Ariadne didn't believe that Alfonso was a married man.
It was a belief that was separate from the facts because it was an image that contradicted what she knew about Alfonso de Carlo.
But even if such a dreamlike hope had become reality, Alfonso's approach was scary.
'...Will you really want me after you find out everything I've done?'
Ariadne was not perfect. As soon as Alfonso left, she was betrothed to his brother.
They kept saying it was just a superficial engagement, but in the end, it became a sticky relationship filled with hatred, tears, and feelings.
She had truly loved Cesare at least once in her past and present life.
It's not that she disliked Alfonso.
However, it was not that she was trying to push Alfonso away out of guilt, as she had told Sancha, or simply because she felt sorry for Alfonso.
Ariadne simply did not want to board the chariot of happiness, ascend to the edge of the entrance to heaven, and then plummet to the ground and crash down on the surface.
She didn't want to get hurt. It was a cowardly turn away.
'I didn't know you were this kind of woman.'
The imaginary Alfonso spits out coldly and turns around. He pushes away the hand Ariadne is holding.
All that is visible is Alfonso's broad back, which can never be hugged again.
'You pretended to be nice, but in the end, a relationship with my stepbrother was something you wanted all along.'
No! That's not what I wanted! I never pretended to be nice!
She tried to scream, but her throat was so tight that no sound came out.
'Go back to Cesare. He's the only man you've ever loved in two lives.'
No!
'That's what the letter you wrote said. You forgot about me and gave him your lips, but you were seriously contemplating whether or not to give your body to him.'
After Isabella stole the letters she had written to Alfonso but had not sent, Ariadne burned all the remaining letters in the house. Now no one could see them.
No, even before they get there, there's no way Alfonso would know about her past life.
But the delusion ran wild like a wild horse, paying no attention to the truth.
'I will start anew by meeting a pure and innocent girl with no past. A woman of high status, fit for the position of a Princess and, in the future, a Queen. A person who can give birth to a successor to my royal family. Have we met before? Say hello. The mother of my future child, Lariesa.'
There was not even a cry of 'no' here. Her objectivity was suffocating her.
"Ari?"
And at the sound of her familiar name being called, she opened her eyes wide.
"Are you okay?"
Alfonso's large, blue-gray eyes looked down at her from across the table.
His pupils were unusually large compared to others, reminiscent of the eyes of a puppy or a calf. The moment Ariadne looked into his eyes, she felt a strange sense of stability.
She opened her mouth slightly with a blank expression. Alfonso, who thought that Ariadne was offended by the title, made an awkward excuse.
“No, that. I called Countess de Mare several times, but there was no answer.”
Ariadne let out a long sigh. It was a sigh of relief.
“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”
She blinked a few times. Her eyes were very dry. Her mouth was dry, too. She fumbled for something to drink.
But to Alfonso's eyes, Ariadne's face, with her lush eyelashes fluttering, seemed to be filled with deep thought.
“What’s wrong, Ari?”
Alfonso handed Ariadne the new cup of water that was in front of him and asked.
When he thought she was feeling down, he found himself using the kindest tone he could muster.
“I can solve most problems.”
In fact, even the most difficult problems could be solved. Prince Alfonso has 800 heavy knights under his command.
He was the most powerful single unit within the Etruscan kingdom. He was a man who could do anything, although it was difficult to clean up after himself.
“No, nothing happened.”
How do I tell you that I'm afraid you'll be disappointed in me?
“I can't get help from the lower level.”
How can I tell you that I am worried because I wish you would only look at me and love me, close your eyes to my past, and welcome me, who is lacking, as your government rather than your government?
It wasn't a story to be told in human skin.
And it wasn't a problem that the 800th Heavy Knights Division could solve. Even she didn't know where to start to untie the thread.
Actually, she could have just asked.
'Alfonso, did you marry Lariesa?'
But she wanted to never know. She wish time would just stop like this. Today, too, she doesn't have the courage.
“Really, it’s okay.”
As Ariadne's specifications and Alfonso's face darkened slightly, the door to the reception room opened.
The maids of the Duke of Taranto appeared through the open door.
They began to come in, pushing tea trays one after another. The senior maid at the front bowed her head and said,
“The General Manager says he will be a little late because he has to pick up some paperwork. He asked me to tell you to get them first. Today’s tea is hibiscus tea imported from the coast of Hejaz, and on the first tray is a basil tomato cheese sandwich that goes well with it. The second tray is...”
The maids left the drawing room, leaving a mountain of fragrant tea and pretty tea-foods in front of Ariadne and Alfonso.
Ariadne took off her gloves to pick up her tea food, which was mostly finger food. It had been a long time since she had taken off her gloves outside the house.
'Because of this, I used to decline all invitations to tea parties.'
She was deeply moved. At the same time, she was cautious about whether she could really do it.
But there was the assurance of the old Moorish woman and the admiration of Sancha. Even if she could not believe his own eyes, she could trust those two.
Ariadne's long, slender fingers were free from her gloves. It was the first time in a long time that she felt the fresh air outside.
Her left hand came up onto the table to hold the napkin, while her right hand stretched out toward the tea sandwich.
Alfonso's eyes were fixed on Ariadne's hand. His pupils shook without mercy.
“Ariadne.”
Ariadne looked at Alfonso. His voice was so grave that she felt she had to follow it.
“Why are your hands like that?”
"...!”
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