Alfonso walked slowly and quickly to the second floor, where Bianca and Ariadne were waiting.
He found his cousin sitting quietly in the waiting room and stroked the hair exposed under her headdress.
“Sorry I’m late. You must have been worried.”
Bianca, completely detached from the fact that there was trouble at the ball, asked in bewilderment.
“Huh? Yes?”
Baroness Giannelli rushed into the powder room.
“Your Highness! I am so glad you came now! Don’t touch her hair! It will get messy!”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Prince Alfonso extended his thick hand to Bianca, his ball partner.
“You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. Well, shall we go?”
Ariadne felt as if the words 'don't worry' were being spoken to her.
At the same time, she felt a sudden pang in her heart as she looked at Alfonso's hand reaching out to Bianca. Realizing this, she panicked.
'What am I thinking...'
The emotion Ariadne felt was intense jealousy.
The fact that Alfonso and Bianca were just good cousins and the determination to never think of Alfonso that way again were useless in the face of her instinctive support.
Meanwhile, Alfonso, who was escorting Bianca, leisurely walked through this floor.
He stopped on the landing leading down to the first floor.
Next to the Prince, who was about half a head taller than an average adult male, stood today's debutante, Princess Bianca, wearing a mask that covered her entire face except for the tip of her chin and makeup that made her look like a peacock with abundant feathers, so that neither her face nor her figure were visible at all.
The first floor ballroom became quiet for a moment at the sight of the Prince standing tall and looking down and the Princess standing next to him, and then everyone bowed in unison.
“See the little sun of the kingdom!”
It was quite a sight to see dozens and hundreds of guests, all dressed in formal attire and dresses, bending their knees at the same time.
Baroness Giannelli of this floor bowed down to her knees in a formal manner, even though no one was watching, or when no one was there, and Ariadne also bowed slightly.
Perhaps it was because she felt sorry for Alfonso and Bianca, who were standing behind them and looking at them, that Raphael, who was present here today as Ariadne's partner, approached her and held out his arm to her.
“My Lady, shall we go too?”
Thanks to Raphael's playful conversation, Ariadne was finally able to force a smile on her face.
“Thank you, Raphael. Let’s go too.”
Raphael walked forward, escorting Ariadne, a soft smile hanging from beneath his silver mask.
But the expression on Ariadne's face that he had seen a moment ago was vivid before his eyes. Her longing gaze follows Alfonso's back.
Countess Clemente de Bartolini stood confidently at the Countess Baljo's charity party, waiting for the guests two hours before, even before the hostess herself.
“Countess Bartolini, you are doing a good job.”
Her childhood lover, the Countess Dipascal, appeared with the Countess Dipascal and greeted her. He also pretended to know her husband.
“Count Bartolini, he have a wonderful wife.”
The white-haired Count smiled kindly and responded to his wife's former lover.
“You are most welcome.”
Count Dipqscal entered the party hall leisurely, leaving behind a triumphant smile.
“Clemente! Long time no see.”
Next was her childhood mistress, Barnedetto Sozak.
Next to her, a young woman who looked completely out of place at a charity party, perhaps a street prostitute, was hanging with more than half her upper body exposed.
Count Bartolini frowned at the sight of a man, not even a Viscount but the son of a Viscount, calling the name of a respectable Countess without hesitation.
Little Barnedetto did not even say hello to Count Bartolini and just burst inside, giggling with the woman next to him.
“Clemente, are you a close friend?”
“...Oh, no!”
Once Clemente denied it, she realized that it was even stranger to call someone by their name.
“..Uh, when I was young, we were close, friends.”
She added hastily.
“...Church, in church...”
Count Bartolini decided not to pursue the matter any further and instead focused on welcoming his guests.
Thinking about the unpleasant things over and over again only made her feel worse. The problem was that there were hardly any guests.
The next guest was also a man who was rude to his wife—unknown to the old Count, he was also Clemente's mistress 3—and there were no more guests after that.
“Oh, Countess Bartolini. I guess the guests are a little late.”
After a long time, Baroness Loredan, a member of the Silver Cross Women's Society, arrived and looked around. The empty hall was sad.
“...That, that’s right...”
“What about the Marchioness Salvati?”
“...She said she was coming...”
The Marchioness of Salvati was presently bowing to Prince Alfonso at the debutante party of the Duchess of Taranto.
“Duke Cesare isn’t coming?! I came to see him!”
“...Hahaha, well...”
Cold sweat ran down Clemente's spine.
'Why isn't anyone coming!'
The only people in the hall of the charity party were Clemente's mistresses and members of the Silver Cross Women's Society.
Her husband, who decided that the time for entertaining guests was over, entered the room with a glass of wine in hand.
'Oh my god!'
If even one of the adulterous men moves his tongue wrongly, she is doomed, doomed again!
'Oh, God, please look down on me!'
Should I get my husband to drink a lot? If I get him so drunk that he blacks out, won't he be taken home right away?
While Clemente was racking his brain, Countess Baljo, who had lent her name and venue to the party today, appeared. She too was lost in thought as she looked at the empty hall.
“Bartolini! What is this!”
Countess Baljo gritted her teeth and questioned her.
“You said that the success was a given! Where on earth did Duke Cesare go?”
“...That, that... Uh, if you wait a little longer...”
Clemente knew that Duke Cesare would not show up. Rubina had only said, 'Cesare might come.'
She never gave a definitive answer. All Rubina said was, 'You spread the word and contribute to the success.'
Clemente wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what that meant.
However, what Clemente did not know was who the man who would appear in place of Duke Cesare was.
“Clemente!”
Countess Baljo's eyes widened when she saw the man who appeared at the entrance of the party hall.
Clemente looked up at the voice calling her name, and her eyes didn't stop growing wide. She almost fainted on the spot.
“...Ca, Marquis of Campa...!”
Meanwhile, the Marquis de Campa, who had gained weight and whose skin was covered in pustular acne, was there.
The Marquis of Campa, dressed splendidly in his industrial dress, came to ask how she could invite everyone else but leave him out.
The rumor that Clemente de Bartolini had gathered all the old-time philanderers together spread like wildfire through the sleazy gentlemen's gambling clubs.
Everyone was giggling, expecting something like, 'One more time...?' or 'A wild party with lots of people?' However, the Marquis of Campa himself was the only one who did not receive an invitation.
Even when she heard that her husband was coming to the party, the Marchioness de Campa was excited in another sense. This woman who just left was finally preparing something great!
The party was called 'Charity Party' and it was the maddest woman in San Carlo, Clemente de Bartolini.
The Marquis of Campa, who had mastered every vice in San Carlo, could not miss this opportunity.
The notoriety of being 'the worst bastard in the capital' was his pride.
So, he came running, his toad-like silhouette trembling, prepared to be turned away... The Marquis of Campa was flustered from the moment he entered the party hall.
The atmosphere was truly good and sacred, and the entire party venue was decorated with statues of Yesak's Gon.
Under the bright, clean lights, older ladies in neat dresses were chewing on tasteless health food and talking about heaven.
In between, there are only the occasional ex-lovers of Clemente with shit-eating expressions.
But the Marquis of Campa never had a chance to properly argue.
“Huh, Clemente?”
Because Countess Bartolini rolled her eyes and fell down. The foam at the corner of her mouth was a bonus.
Princess Bianca's debutante ball was a great success. Less than thirty minutes after Prince Alfonso had brought the entire San Carlo society in, Leo III arrived.
He looked at the fruit wine canal that meandered through the ballroom and laughed heartily with great satisfaction.
The presence of many foreign nobles and merchants in attendance, as well as the presence of many new faces at the ball, also contributed to the King's satisfaction.
The social circle of San Carlo had become too boring for Leo III.
The only difficulty was to stop the King from prostrating himself and drinking from the aqueduct during the debutante's fruit toast.
Once they got past that part, everything went smoothly.
When Leo III was so pleased with the long-awaited masked ball that he refused to leave, Rubina was also forced to become a fixture at the ball.
Rubina had no time to worry about anything else right now, as she was keeping an eye on the King, who was looking around at the feast of skirts he was seeing for the first time.
Prince Alfonso couldn't have brought the knights, but it also became impossible for Duchess Rubina to lead the noble ladies under her command to the ball.
The timid Bianca quickly returned to her quarters after making her appearance.
Not only was she under strict nanny supervision, but she also didn't want to get caught wandering around the party while drunk, which she had never tried before, and having her ugly appearance hidden.
Only after everything was roughly sorted out did Ariadne let go of the tension that had been taut as a blade.
She found a corner chair and flopped down, fruit wine in hand.
She downed the fizzy fruit wine in one gulp.
“Ah, it’s bitter.”
It was definitely a sweet drink when she first tasted it, but now she has no idea why it tastes so bitter.
For a moment, something like a tower blocked her view, and it became shadowy.
"Stop."
A thick hand reached out and snatched the glass from her hand. Ariadne looked up reflexively.
“If alcohol tastes bitter, stop drinking. I’m not accepting it today.”
He found his cousin sitting quietly in the waiting room and stroked the hair exposed under her headdress.
“Sorry I’m late. You must have been worried.”
Bianca, completely detached from the fact that there was trouble at the ball, asked in bewilderment.
“Huh? Yes?”
Baroness Giannelli rushed into the powder room.
“Your Highness! I am so glad you came now! Don’t touch her hair! It will get messy!”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Prince Alfonso extended his thick hand to Bianca, his ball partner.
“You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. Well, shall we go?”
Ariadne felt as if the words 'don't worry' were being spoken to her.
At the same time, she felt a sudden pang in her heart as she looked at Alfonso's hand reaching out to Bianca. Realizing this, she panicked.
'What am I thinking...'
The emotion Ariadne felt was intense jealousy.
The fact that Alfonso and Bianca were just good cousins and the determination to never think of Alfonso that way again were useless in the face of her instinctive support.
Meanwhile, Alfonso, who was escorting Bianca, leisurely walked through this floor.
He stopped on the landing leading down to the first floor.
Next to the Prince, who was about half a head taller than an average adult male, stood today's debutante, Princess Bianca, wearing a mask that covered her entire face except for the tip of her chin and makeup that made her look like a peacock with abundant feathers, so that neither her face nor her figure were visible at all.
The first floor ballroom became quiet for a moment at the sight of the Prince standing tall and looking down and the Princess standing next to him, and then everyone bowed in unison.
“See the little sun of the kingdom!”
It was quite a sight to see dozens and hundreds of guests, all dressed in formal attire and dresses, bending their knees at the same time.
Baroness Giannelli of this floor bowed down to her knees in a formal manner, even though no one was watching, or when no one was there, and Ariadne also bowed slightly.
Perhaps it was because she felt sorry for Alfonso and Bianca, who were standing behind them and looking at them, that Raphael, who was present here today as Ariadne's partner, approached her and held out his arm to her.
“My Lady, shall we go too?”
Thanks to Raphael's playful conversation, Ariadne was finally able to force a smile on her face.
“Thank you, Raphael. Let’s go too.”
Raphael walked forward, escorting Ariadne, a soft smile hanging from beneath his silver mask.
But the expression on Ariadne's face that he had seen a moment ago was vivid before his eyes. Her longing gaze follows Alfonso's back.
***
Countess Clemente de Bartolini stood confidently at the Countess Baljo's charity party, waiting for the guests two hours before, even before the hostess herself.
“Countess Bartolini, you are doing a good job.”
Her childhood lover, the Countess Dipascal, appeared with the Countess Dipascal and greeted her. He also pretended to know her husband.
“Count Bartolini, he have a wonderful wife.”
The white-haired Count smiled kindly and responded to his wife's former lover.
“You are most welcome.”
Count Dipqscal entered the party hall leisurely, leaving behind a triumphant smile.
“Clemente! Long time no see.”
Next was her childhood mistress, Barnedetto Sozak.
Next to her, a young woman who looked completely out of place at a charity party, perhaps a street prostitute, was hanging with more than half her upper body exposed.
Count Bartolini frowned at the sight of a man, not even a Viscount but the son of a Viscount, calling the name of a respectable Countess without hesitation.
Little Barnedetto did not even say hello to Count Bartolini and just burst inside, giggling with the woman next to him.
“Clemente, are you a close friend?”
“...Oh, no!”
Once Clemente denied it, she realized that it was even stranger to call someone by their name.
“..Uh, when I was young, we were close, friends.”
She added hastily.
“...Church, in church...”
Count Bartolini decided not to pursue the matter any further and instead focused on welcoming his guests.
Thinking about the unpleasant things over and over again only made her feel worse. The problem was that there were hardly any guests.
The next guest was also a man who was rude to his wife—unknown to the old Count, he was also Clemente's mistress 3—and there were no more guests after that.
“Oh, Countess Bartolini. I guess the guests are a little late.”
After a long time, Baroness Loredan, a member of the Silver Cross Women's Society, arrived and looked around. The empty hall was sad.
“...That, that’s right...”
“What about the Marchioness Salvati?”
“...She said she was coming...”
The Marchioness of Salvati was presently bowing to Prince Alfonso at the debutante party of the Duchess of Taranto.
“Duke Cesare isn’t coming?! I came to see him!”
“...Hahaha, well...”
Cold sweat ran down Clemente's spine.
'Why isn't anyone coming!'
The only people in the hall of the charity party were Clemente's mistresses and members of the Silver Cross Women's Society.
Her husband, who decided that the time for entertaining guests was over, entered the room with a glass of wine in hand.
'Oh my god!'
If even one of the adulterous men moves his tongue wrongly, she is doomed, doomed again!
'Oh, God, please look down on me!'
Should I get my husband to drink a lot? If I get him so drunk that he blacks out, won't he be taken home right away?
While Clemente was racking his brain, Countess Baljo, who had lent her name and venue to the party today, appeared. She too was lost in thought as she looked at the empty hall.
“Bartolini! What is this!”
Countess Baljo gritted her teeth and questioned her.
“You said that the success was a given! Where on earth did Duke Cesare go?”
“...That, that... Uh, if you wait a little longer...”
Clemente knew that Duke Cesare would not show up. Rubina had only said, 'Cesare might come.'
She never gave a definitive answer. All Rubina said was, 'You spread the word and contribute to the success.'
Clemente wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what that meant.
However, what Clemente did not know was who the man who would appear in place of Duke Cesare was.
“Clemente!”
Countess Baljo's eyes widened when she saw the man who appeared at the entrance of the party hall.
Clemente looked up at the voice calling her name, and her eyes didn't stop growing wide. She almost fainted on the spot.
“...Ca, Marquis of Campa...!”
Meanwhile, the Marquis de Campa, who had gained weight and whose skin was covered in pustular acne, was there.
The Marquis of Campa, dressed splendidly in his industrial dress, came to ask how she could invite everyone else but leave him out.
The rumor that Clemente de Bartolini had gathered all the old-time philanderers together spread like wildfire through the sleazy gentlemen's gambling clubs.
Everyone was giggling, expecting something like, 'One more time...?' or 'A wild party with lots of people?' However, the Marquis of Campa himself was the only one who did not receive an invitation.
Even when she heard that her husband was coming to the party, the Marchioness de Campa was excited in another sense. This woman who just left was finally preparing something great!
The party was called 'Charity Party' and it was the maddest woman in San Carlo, Clemente de Bartolini.
The Marquis of Campa, who had mastered every vice in San Carlo, could not miss this opportunity.
The notoriety of being 'the worst bastard in the capital' was his pride.
So, he came running, his toad-like silhouette trembling, prepared to be turned away... The Marquis of Campa was flustered from the moment he entered the party hall.
The atmosphere was truly good and sacred, and the entire party venue was decorated with statues of Yesak's Gon.
Under the bright, clean lights, older ladies in neat dresses were chewing on tasteless health food and talking about heaven.
In between, there are only the occasional ex-lovers of Clemente with shit-eating expressions.
But the Marquis of Campa never had a chance to properly argue.
“Huh, Clemente?”
Because Countess Bartolini rolled her eyes and fell down. The foam at the corner of her mouth was a bonus.
***
Princess Bianca's debutante ball was a great success. Less than thirty minutes after Prince Alfonso had brought the entire San Carlo society in, Leo III arrived.
He looked at the fruit wine canal that meandered through the ballroom and laughed heartily with great satisfaction.
The presence of many foreign nobles and merchants in attendance, as well as the presence of many new faces at the ball, also contributed to the King's satisfaction.
The social circle of San Carlo had become too boring for Leo III.
The only difficulty was to stop the King from prostrating himself and drinking from the aqueduct during the debutante's fruit toast.
Once they got past that part, everything went smoothly.
When Leo III was so pleased with the long-awaited masked ball that he refused to leave, Rubina was also forced to become a fixture at the ball.
Rubina had no time to worry about anything else right now, as she was keeping an eye on the King, who was looking around at the feast of skirts he was seeing for the first time.
Prince Alfonso couldn't have brought the knights, but it also became impossible for Duchess Rubina to lead the noble ladies under her command to the ball.
The timid Bianca quickly returned to her quarters after making her appearance.
Not only was she under strict nanny supervision, but she also didn't want to get caught wandering around the party while drunk, which she had never tried before, and having her ugly appearance hidden.
Only after everything was roughly sorted out did Ariadne let go of the tension that had been taut as a blade.
She found a corner chair and flopped down, fruit wine in hand.
She downed the fizzy fruit wine in one gulp.
“Ah, it’s bitter.”
It was definitely a sweet drink when she first tasted it, but now she has no idea why it tastes so bitter.
For a moment, something like a tower blocked her view, and it became shadowy.
"Stop."
A thick hand reached out and snatched the glass from her hand. Ariadne looked up reflexively.
“If alcohol tastes bitter, stop drinking. I’m not accepting it today.”
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