Princess Bianca's invitation stated that she would be arriving in San Carlo 'next week or so.'
But the invitation itself was written a week ago.
The invitation left Taranto almost at the same time as the Princess and arrived a little before her.
Ariadne hurriedly coordinated a date with the Duke of Taranto, and as a result, a meeting with the Princess was scheduled for the very next day.
So now, Ariadne was on her way to the capital city of the Duke of Taranto with a pounding heart.
In her hand, she held a small, chick-shaped, yellow glass ornament, hastily procured from the workshops of San Carlo.
''There is a Virgin of Narcissus, though.''
The 'Virgin of Narcissus' was a rare painting modeled after Bianca's deceased mother, whom Ariadne had saved during her early return.
The artist who painted the picture at the time, Bernardo of Urbino, had since enjoyed great success and become one of the most successful new artists in the Central Continent.
Although the expansion and renovation of the Trevero Cathedral, which would become his career high point, had not yet begun, the 'Virgin of Narcissus' was still a valuable gift.
However, the reason Ariadne did not take the painting with her was not because Bernardo of Urbino had not yet reached his greatest success, but for another reason.
'If you bring too big a gift from the start, you'll look like a sycophant.'
Unlike her previous life, when she was clumsy at everything, Ariadne now had a thorough understanding of the nature of those in power.
She knew with her eyes closed how to act to win their favor and how to act to get cut off right away.
There were clearly more minor details than just empty talk like, "Sincerity is king."
But it turns out that sincerity is an essential seasoning, like salt.
Without genuine interest and curiosity in the other person, you are not entitled to return affection.
Ariadne smiled slightly as she was escorted out of the carriage by a servant.
'What kind of person is Princess Bianca?'
If Arabella were alive, she would be the same age as Princess Bianca.
Her favorite color was chick-colored with a checkered pattern, a taste that was cuter than Arabella.
'Alfonso also always mentioned that Bianca was a good cousin.'
The image of Princess Bianca was taking shape in Ariadne's mind. The prototype of her imagination was Arabella.
From there, the image of a gentle, cute, yellow chick Princess running towards her was completed.
Ariadne was led into the reception room of the Duke of Taranto with great anticipation.
She waited for Bianca, holding a cup of tea in her hand. After waiting for a while, she heard a noise outside the door.
“Your Highness, you... have to...”
It was the voice of her attendant. But things didn't seem to be going so smoothly.
“I don’t like it...”
Ariadne couldn't hear the exact conversation, but there was definitely resistance from the Princess.
Was the evaluation that she was gentle really true? Her expression was closer to crying or pleading than anger or complaining.
There was a brief commotion outside before the door creaked open.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Countess de Mare.”
A middle-aged woman with brown hair that was starting to fade into gray entered the room first. She was a thin woman with a wiry appearance.
It seemed like she was the Princess's nanny. She apologized without even introducing herself.
“Our Princess is so shy....”
The hem of her skirt was visible outside the reception room door.
It was not the expected chick-colored skirt, but a dark gray dress. Ariadne smiled politely and answered.
“No, no, it’s okay.”
“Just a moment, I’ll try to persuade her again and bring her over.”
The middle-aged woman went out of the room again and tried to appease the Princess. But the Princess was stubborn.
There were whimpers, sobs that weren't even tears, and even a hint of irritation.
About ten minutes later, the Princess's nanny returned to the parlor and apologized to Ariadne.
“I am truly sorry, Countess de Mare. Our Princess does not wish to come in...”
Ariadne could have laughed and passed it over again, but she couldn't contain her curiosity.
“Princess Bianca invited me.”
It was even an invitation with a rather hasty date.
“If she didn’t want to meet me, then why on earth...”
“Oh, no. I sent you the invitation.”
"Yes?"
The nanny, Baroness Giannelli, thrust her chest forward.
“It is a matter of courtesy to meet and greet the person who will serve as your chaperone before the debutante ball begins!”
“Ah...”
Ariadne nodded blankly, her mouth slightly open. Then she understood.
This main character was young and gentle, but her nanny seemed to have a very strong personality.
Baroness Giannelli stuck her head out of the drawing room and urged the Duchess of Taranto again.
“Your Highness, please come inside!”
But the Princess of Taranto, standing in the hallway, did not move an inch.
“Oh, excuse me. I’ll go get her.”
Baroness Giannelli tried to coax Bianca, to appease her, and even to physically drag her away, all without success.
In the end, it was the threat that worked for Princess Bianca.
“If His Highness the Duke and Duchess, who have passed away, were to know that Lady Bianca did not even greet her chaperone in advance, they would be ashamed and think it would humiliate the Duke’s name!”
Only then did Princess Bianca enter the reception room like an ox being led to the slaughterhouse.
Princess Bianca entered the reception room, dragging her feet heavily, one step at a time, and kept her mouth shut, looking only at her feet.
“...”
Ariadne immediately realized why Princess Bianca never met outsiders.
Bianca of Taranto, who was said to be the best bride-to-be in the Central Continent, was... really ugly.
To be exact, she wasn't ugly or unattractive. However, her appearance was the complete opposite of what is commonly considered attractive in high society.
She had inherited a strong portion of the Carlo dynasty's blood through her father's line, and she resembled the men of the Carlo dynasty with her tall stature, thick chest, broad shoulders, and large bone structure.
Although she was only fifteen years old, she was much bigger than most men.
Her overall facial features were similar to Prince Alfonso's but not identical.
Her face was even more rugged and masculine than that of her cousin, with a slightly protruding beak, strong cheekbones, and firm jaw muscles.
What she didn't resemble was the color scheme.
Unlike her cousin, who boasted sweet blond hair that looked like it was made of molten gold, Bianca of Taranto had hair that was too dull to be brown and too bland to be gray.
Her eyes were pitch black, like a rat's, and her skin was a shade of dark gray.
“...Nice to meet you...”
Bianca, wearing a richly embroidered charcoal dressing gown and with her grey-brown hair bleached as close to blonde as possible in the fashion of the Republic of Porto, muttered under her breath.
“Taranto’s... Bianca of Taranto...”
Princess Bianca bit her lips hard after saying this. It seemed as if she was sobbing a little.
Ariadne was startled by the sudden crying and asked in a soft voice.
“Your Highness, are you alright...”
But Bianca looked down at the floor and burst into tears faster than Ariadne could finish her sentence.
“That’s why I said I don’t want to have a debutante party or anything...!”
Camellia, who got doused with shit on her wedding day, never forgot her resentment.
“Camellia, Duchess Rubina is very angry with Isabella, and she is in a bad situation. Do you really have to do this?”
“That’s none of my business.”
“Camellia, I heard that Ottavio also fell in love with Isabella. Are you really going to sue him in the royal court?”
“It’s gotten better. He got sued and had a fight with hia spouse. Now that he’s hired a lawyer, he can get divorce counseling.”
When he promised to make Isabella de Mare and Ottavio de Contarini shed tears of blood, everyone applauded and cheered her on.
But when she actually did it, her sisters-in-law were everywhere trying to stop her.
But if she was going to stop here, she wouldn't have even started.
Even when Isabella was rumored to be the Marquis of Campa's mistress, Camellia was a woman with incredible execution power when it came to revenge.
She borrowed her father's seal, stamped the family seal, and sent a messenger to the Count Contarini family.
Isabella, who had just warmed up, received the bill from the Baron of Castiglione and experienced first-hand what the expression "her hands were trembling" meant.
“Are you crazy? No, you’re completely crazy!”
The certified mail sent by the Baron of Castiglione stated that if the Countess of Contarini did not pay a lump sum of 12,000 ducats by the end of this month, he would denounce them in the royal court.
“If you have money to pay, then do it. Is it possible in this country’s law to shame someone like this for not paying back a small amount of money?!”
What made Isabella so furious was the following content attached to the certified mail.
This is because, behind the request for payment, it was written that an executor would be sent to put a red tag on the property to prevent it from being embezzled at the same time as the accusation.
“Be quiet, it’s noisy inside! What are you talking about?”
Ottavio shouted in a chilling voice.
“If it weren’t for you, it wouldn’t have ended up like this!”
Ottavio meant that Isabella wouldn't have ended up in this situation if she hadn't caused a scene at Camellia's wedding, but Isabella understood that if she hadn't married him, she wouldn't have ended up in this situation.
Isabella faced him, with the veins in her neck standing up.
“Really? Do you regret it? It seems like only yesterday that you were chasing me, crying and saying you loved me. Do you regret marrying Camellia instead of me?”
But when she heard it, it wasn't such a bad idea. The problem was that Camellia didn't accept it.
"Yes!"
Ottavio shouted coolly.
“I regret it, I regret it!”
The Contarini mansion was enormous, but when the young couple screamed at the top of their lungs, the baby three or four rooms away heard them and burst into tears.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
There was a sound like a newborn crying with his Adam's apple shaking. Isabella became even angrier.
“Why is she doing that again!”
“That’s because you screamed! Don’t you worry about becoming a mother?”
“Did I do this alone? Did I give birth to this alone?”
Isabella could not forget the shock she felt when she saw her first daughter's face. The newborn's bright red face looked like a burning sweet potato.
Isabella was a once-in-a-century beauty, and Ottavio was not ugly, but the baby born in the amniotic fluid looked nothing like either mother or father.
The only consolation for Isabella was the fact that the child was her son. She couldn't figure out why she thought it was her son.
When she looked at they baby face, she didn't look like a daughter at all, so she naturally assumed the baby was a son.
However, Isabella's relief, thinking that it was her son, was immediately shattered by the midwife's cries.
“She is a pretty girl, ma’am!”
Isabella remembered the despair of that moment clearly.
Even if her relationship with Ottavio broke down, if she had a son, her position as Countess Contarini would be solid.
But as a daughter, there is no place for her in this family.
Isabella's anxiety was not in vain. Ottavio even shouted at Isabella.
“Marrying someone like you was the biggest mistake of my life!”
"What?"
Isabella responded, her medicine having kicked in.
“Isn’t it a shame that this Isabella de Mare met someone like Ottavio de Contarini, that you regret it?”
“Wow, are you the only one who thinks you’re so great?”
Ottavio shouted in anger.
“Do you think people didn’t stop me? I don’t have to go far. Even my older sister opposed me so much, saying, ‘That’s not her!’”
"What?"
Isabella's eyes narrowed.
“Who stopped you?”
There is no one to stop it.
“Are you talking about Sister Clemente?”
It seems like there will be a way to make money.
But the invitation itself was written a week ago.
The invitation left Taranto almost at the same time as the Princess and arrived a little before her.
Ariadne hurriedly coordinated a date with the Duke of Taranto, and as a result, a meeting with the Princess was scheduled for the very next day.
So now, Ariadne was on her way to the capital city of the Duke of Taranto with a pounding heart.
In her hand, she held a small, chick-shaped, yellow glass ornament, hastily procured from the workshops of San Carlo.
''There is a Virgin of Narcissus, though.''
The 'Virgin of Narcissus' was a rare painting modeled after Bianca's deceased mother, whom Ariadne had saved during her early return.
The artist who painted the picture at the time, Bernardo of Urbino, had since enjoyed great success and become one of the most successful new artists in the Central Continent.
Although the expansion and renovation of the Trevero Cathedral, which would become his career high point, had not yet begun, the 'Virgin of Narcissus' was still a valuable gift.
However, the reason Ariadne did not take the painting with her was not because Bernardo of Urbino had not yet reached his greatest success, but for another reason.
'If you bring too big a gift from the start, you'll look like a sycophant.'
Unlike her previous life, when she was clumsy at everything, Ariadne now had a thorough understanding of the nature of those in power.
She knew with her eyes closed how to act to win their favor and how to act to get cut off right away.
There were clearly more minor details than just empty talk like, "Sincerity is king."
But it turns out that sincerity is an essential seasoning, like salt.
Without genuine interest and curiosity in the other person, you are not entitled to return affection.
Ariadne smiled slightly as she was escorted out of the carriage by a servant.
'What kind of person is Princess Bianca?'
If Arabella were alive, she would be the same age as Princess Bianca.
Her favorite color was chick-colored with a checkered pattern, a taste that was cuter than Arabella.
'Alfonso also always mentioned that Bianca was a good cousin.'
The image of Princess Bianca was taking shape in Ariadne's mind. The prototype of her imagination was Arabella.
From there, the image of a gentle, cute, yellow chick Princess running towards her was completed.
Ariadne was led into the reception room of the Duke of Taranto with great anticipation.
She waited for Bianca, holding a cup of tea in her hand. After waiting for a while, she heard a noise outside the door.
“Your Highness, you... have to...”
It was the voice of her attendant. But things didn't seem to be going so smoothly.
“I don’t like it...”
Ariadne couldn't hear the exact conversation, but there was definitely resistance from the Princess.
Was the evaluation that she was gentle really true? Her expression was closer to crying or pleading than anger or complaining.
There was a brief commotion outside before the door creaked open.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Countess de Mare.”
A middle-aged woman with brown hair that was starting to fade into gray entered the room first. She was a thin woman with a wiry appearance.
It seemed like she was the Princess's nanny. She apologized without even introducing herself.
“Our Princess is so shy....”
The hem of her skirt was visible outside the reception room door.
It was not the expected chick-colored skirt, but a dark gray dress. Ariadne smiled politely and answered.
“No, no, it’s okay.”
“Just a moment, I’ll try to persuade her again and bring her over.”
The middle-aged woman went out of the room again and tried to appease the Princess. But the Princess was stubborn.
There were whimpers, sobs that weren't even tears, and even a hint of irritation.
About ten minutes later, the Princess's nanny returned to the parlor and apologized to Ariadne.
“I am truly sorry, Countess de Mare. Our Princess does not wish to come in...”
Ariadne could have laughed and passed it over again, but she couldn't contain her curiosity.
“Princess Bianca invited me.”
It was even an invitation with a rather hasty date.
“If she didn’t want to meet me, then why on earth...”
“Oh, no. I sent you the invitation.”
"Yes?"
The nanny, Baroness Giannelli, thrust her chest forward.
“It is a matter of courtesy to meet and greet the person who will serve as your chaperone before the debutante ball begins!”
“Ah...”
Ariadne nodded blankly, her mouth slightly open. Then she understood.
This main character was young and gentle, but her nanny seemed to have a very strong personality.
Baroness Giannelli stuck her head out of the drawing room and urged the Duchess of Taranto again.
“Your Highness, please come inside!”
But the Princess of Taranto, standing in the hallway, did not move an inch.
“Oh, excuse me. I’ll go get her.”
Baroness Giannelli tried to coax Bianca, to appease her, and even to physically drag her away, all without success.
In the end, it was the threat that worked for Princess Bianca.
“If His Highness the Duke and Duchess, who have passed away, were to know that Lady Bianca did not even greet her chaperone in advance, they would be ashamed and think it would humiliate the Duke’s name!”
Only then did Princess Bianca enter the reception room like an ox being led to the slaughterhouse.
Princess Bianca entered the reception room, dragging her feet heavily, one step at a time, and kept her mouth shut, looking only at her feet.
“...”
Ariadne immediately realized why Princess Bianca never met outsiders.
Bianca of Taranto, who was said to be the best bride-to-be in the Central Continent, was... really ugly.
To be exact, she wasn't ugly or unattractive. However, her appearance was the complete opposite of what is commonly considered attractive in high society.
She had inherited a strong portion of the Carlo dynasty's blood through her father's line, and she resembled the men of the Carlo dynasty with her tall stature, thick chest, broad shoulders, and large bone structure.
Although she was only fifteen years old, she was much bigger than most men.
Her overall facial features were similar to Prince Alfonso's but not identical.
Her face was even more rugged and masculine than that of her cousin, with a slightly protruding beak, strong cheekbones, and firm jaw muscles.
What she didn't resemble was the color scheme.
Unlike her cousin, who boasted sweet blond hair that looked like it was made of molten gold, Bianca of Taranto had hair that was too dull to be brown and too bland to be gray.
Her eyes were pitch black, like a rat's, and her skin was a shade of dark gray.
“...Nice to meet you...”
Bianca, wearing a richly embroidered charcoal dressing gown and with her grey-brown hair bleached as close to blonde as possible in the fashion of the Republic of Porto, muttered under her breath.
“Taranto’s... Bianca of Taranto...”
Princess Bianca bit her lips hard after saying this. It seemed as if she was sobbing a little.
Ariadne was startled by the sudden crying and asked in a soft voice.
“Your Highness, are you alright...”
But Bianca looked down at the floor and burst into tears faster than Ariadne could finish her sentence.
“That’s why I said I don’t want to have a debutante party or anything...!”
***
Camellia, who got doused with shit on her wedding day, never forgot her resentment.
“Camellia, Duchess Rubina is very angry with Isabella, and she is in a bad situation. Do you really have to do this?”
“That’s none of my business.”
“Camellia, I heard that Ottavio also fell in love with Isabella. Are you really going to sue him in the royal court?”
“It’s gotten better. He got sued and had a fight with hia spouse. Now that he’s hired a lawyer, he can get divorce counseling.”
When he promised to make Isabella de Mare and Ottavio de Contarini shed tears of blood, everyone applauded and cheered her on.
But when she actually did it, her sisters-in-law were everywhere trying to stop her.
But if she was going to stop here, she wouldn't have even started.
Even when Isabella was rumored to be the Marquis of Campa's mistress, Camellia was a woman with incredible execution power when it came to revenge.
She borrowed her father's seal, stamped the family seal, and sent a messenger to the Count Contarini family.
Isabella, who had just warmed up, received the bill from the Baron of Castiglione and experienced first-hand what the expression "her hands were trembling" meant.
“Are you crazy? No, you’re completely crazy!”
The certified mail sent by the Baron of Castiglione stated that if the Countess of Contarini did not pay a lump sum of 12,000 ducats by the end of this month, he would denounce them in the royal court.
“If you have money to pay, then do it. Is it possible in this country’s law to shame someone like this for not paying back a small amount of money?!”
What made Isabella so furious was the following content attached to the certified mail.
This is because, behind the request for payment, it was written that an executor would be sent to put a red tag on the property to prevent it from being embezzled at the same time as the accusation.
“Be quiet, it’s noisy inside! What are you talking about?”
Ottavio shouted in a chilling voice.
“If it weren’t for you, it wouldn’t have ended up like this!”
Ottavio meant that Isabella wouldn't have ended up in this situation if she hadn't caused a scene at Camellia's wedding, but Isabella understood that if she hadn't married him, she wouldn't have ended up in this situation.
Isabella faced him, with the veins in her neck standing up.
“Really? Do you regret it? It seems like only yesterday that you were chasing me, crying and saying you loved me. Do you regret marrying Camellia instead of me?”
But when she heard it, it wasn't such a bad idea. The problem was that Camellia didn't accept it.
"Yes!"
Ottavio shouted coolly.
“I regret it, I regret it!”
The Contarini mansion was enormous, but when the young couple screamed at the top of their lungs, the baby three or four rooms away heard them and burst into tears.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
There was a sound like a newborn crying with his Adam's apple shaking. Isabella became even angrier.
“Why is she doing that again!”
“That’s because you screamed! Don’t you worry about becoming a mother?”
“Did I do this alone? Did I give birth to this alone?”
Isabella could not forget the shock she felt when she saw her first daughter's face. The newborn's bright red face looked like a burning sweet potato.
Isabella was a once-in-a-century beauty, and Ottavio was not ugly, but the baby born in the amniotic fluid looked nothing like either mother or father.
The only consolation for Isabella was the fact that the child was her son. She couldn't figure out why she thought it was her son.
When she looked at they baby face, she didn't look like a daughter at all, so she naturally assumed the baby was a son.
However, Isabella's relief, thinking that it was her son, was immediately shattered by the midwife's cries.
“She is a pretty girl, ma’am!”
Isabella remembered the despair of that moment clearly.
Even if her relationship with Ottavio broke down, if she had a son, her position as Countess Contarini would be solid.
But as a daughter, there is no place for her in this family.
Isabella's anxiety was not in vain. Ottavio even shouted at Isabella.
“Marrying someone like you was the biggest mistake of my life!”
"What?"
Isabella responded, her medicine having kicked in.
“Isn’t it a shame that this Isabella de Mare met someone like Ottavio de Contarini, that you regret it?”
“Wow, are you the only one who thinks you’re so great?”
Ottavio shouted in anger.
“Do you think people didn’t stop me? I don’t have to go far. Even my older sister opposed me so much, saying, ‘That’s not her!’”
"What?"
Isabella's eyes narrowed.
“Who stopped you?”
There is no one to stop it.
“Are you talking about Sister Clemente?”
It seems like there will be a way to make money.
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