Ottavio felt as if his nerves were snapping.
His beautiful wife is about to come face to face with the very handsome punk she was once so naively fooled by - or so Ottavio still believes.
That alone was horrible. What if my wife looks at him again? What if she compares his face to his and thinks, “My husband is so ugly.”
If that were all the troubles he had in life, it would be bearable, but now Ottavio was on the verge of bankruptcy.
'Damn Remuin merchant!'
When Count Contarini was there, he was a man who acted like a tongue in the mouth.
But as soon as the owner of the house changed, he disappeared, embezzled all the money, and ran away.
“Not only did he embezzle the principal and interest he had lent to others, but he also sold the name of the Count Contarini family to borrow money from his business partners. All the moneylenders in San Carlo are crying out for the Contarini family to repay their debts.”
It was a big gamble planned and carried out.
'Damn Lemuin! You untrustworthy merchants! Anyone who doesn't believe in the Yesak religion is trash! Those who are as rich as merchants shouldn't be associated with each other!'
He was barely able to carry out his daily tasks, on the verge of going crazy.
If it weren't for the meeting of the Lesser Curia Regis, presided over by the King himself, he would have been crying at home and chewing on the blanket.
So when Ottavio encountered Cesare, he was not at all prepared to face him.
“!”
When Ottavio de Contarini encountered Cesare de Carlo, he stood frozen like a statue in the palace hallway.
It was right after the Lesser Curia Regis meeting. Whenever he went into that meeting, Ottavio had nothing to say, but he didn't want to look like an idiot, so he would just look around and say something nonsensical, then wrap his head in self-loathing.
For a moment, Ottavio's hair turned white, his vision went black, and finally, his whole body began to tremble.
'They say enemies meet on a single-log bridge...!'
Ottavio had a rather solemn expression on his face. He and Cesare had a very complicated relationship.
If Cesare were just an enemy, he could just draw his sword and stab him. But Cesare was a long-time friend, enemy, and the son of a King.
While Ottavio was wandering around unable to do anything, Cesare noticed him and spoke to him first.
"Hey."
It was a womanly tone of voice as if he hadn't seen him in ten days. That carefree expression was so unlucky that Ottavio wanted to hit him.
But what he said next was even more interesting. He smiled and said hello.
“Did you come to the hole?”
“This kid!”
An enraged Ottavio threw a punch.
Bam!
A blow to his jaw traveled up his hand. It was a dead blow. Cesare staggered back sharply after being hit in the face.
But Ottavio couldn't shake off an uneasy feeling. It seemed as if Cesare had hit him on purpose.
As expected, Cesare wiped his chapped lips and glared at Ottavio with bloodshot eyes.
He immediately swung his bloody fist at Ottavio's face.
Bam!!
Cesare's fist struck Ottavio in the face. This was a proper punch. Stars flew out before his eyes and Ottavio fell backwards.
Boom!
The sound of Ottavio's buttocks falling reverberated through the palace halls.
It was unbearably shameful. He couldn't beat that bastard up with his fists after he touched his woman.
Ottavio mustered all his strength to get up and rushed at Cesare again like a madman, throwing punches.
Bam!!
This time, he went in properly. Cesare staggered three or four steps and then slammed into the palace wall in an ugly manner.
Ottavio was sure that if there had been no wall, Cesare would have fallen on the floor.
But Ottavio's confidence did not last long, because Cesare pounced again, climbing on Ottavio and beating him.
The two clung to each other for a while and fought desperately.
At first, he rushed at him with the intent to kill him, but later they fought back and forth. He used his fists, kicked him, and even headbutted him.
Then, at some point, they collapsed on the floor from exhaustion and burst into loud laughter without anyone saying anything first.
“Haha, hahaha, hahahahaha!”
“Poohahahahahahaha!”
They laughed at each other's antics, they laughed because they were embarrassed, and they laughed because the situation was funny. The laughter just wouldn't stop.
The laughter that started with a burst of laughter continued for a long time and even turned into gasping for breath.
Cesare, who had been giggling for a while, tapped Ottavio on the shoulder while he was lying down.
"Hey."
Ottavio looked around. Cesare was lying on the floor, smiling, his handsome eyes narrowing.
“I missed you.”
Ottavio, who was visually impaired, felt the lump in his heart melt away at that moment. No, he thought it had melted away.
Ottavio, momentarily overcome with emotion, soon bumped into Cesare and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Bastard."
The two burst into laughter once again. It felt like their tightly packed hearts had been cleared. They lay on the floor and hugged each other tightly.
Ottavio's reconciliation with Cesare did not make Isabella's tea parties any more bearable or joyful.
Ottavio was upset about the business of the Remuin merchant and resented Isabella.
His excellent education and the upbringing he received as an aristocrat may have prevented him from openly saying things like, "I should have just married Camellia instead of marrying someone like you," but that didn't stop him from thinking such thoughts and acting on them from time to time.
“Are you really going to wear those clothes?”
“...Honey. I’ve already changed my clothes for the fifth time.”
“Why are all your closets like that? Don’t you have any clothes that don’t have a low neckline?”
“Stop arguing. What the hell is going on here?”
Isabella was wearing a gray dress that, by San Carlo standards, would have reached all the way to her neck.
“Your chest line is completely visible!”
Ottavio also didn't like the silhouette that was visible under the fabric.
“What the hell are you putting so much stuff in your chest on a cliff? Why don’t you throw away that weird chest cover? You’re so vulgar!”
“Stop talking about that!”
Isabella was tempted to protest that the bodice was for the Duchess of Rubina and not for Cesare and that Cesare already knew there was nothing here and would not be tempted by a bodice.
But she knew that if she did that, she would have to fight for three days and nights without being able to sleep, so she barely resisted the temptation.
Original sin is truly a terrible thing. It makes honest communication, the cornerstone of trust between couples, impossible.
All Isabella had prepared for Duchess Rubina was a breast covering.
However, Duchess Rubina had prepared a more terrifying ultimate move. It was a move that took a lot of preparation, work and thought.
“Count Contarini, thank you for taking the difficult step.”
Leo III had not yet said a word, but Duchess Rubina rose from her seat and warmly welcomed the young Count Contarini.
Dressed in splendid attire, she secretly kept Isabella in check and acted friendly to Ottavio.
She acted so friendly that even though she was wearing gloves, she shook the young man's hands, even though she was an old married woman with her common-law husband, to the point that Ottavio was taken aback.
“I have prepared a special guest for you today. I would like to make sure you meet Count Contarini.”
A, a special guest? Ottavio was secretly looking forward to it, given Rubina's expression of affection.
Perhaps someone who can handle the affairs of the Remuin merchant? A leader with great influence among the Lemuins, or someone who can catch and bring back a Remuin who has run away.
Ouch!
“Bring her in.”
But the creature that entered the room with Duchess Rubina's clapping was a world away from what Ottavio had imagined.
Deborah, one of Rubina's maids, entered the King's reception room holding a cushion aloft.
The maid's arms trembled as if they were weighing a considerable amount.
On top of it sat a French bulldog with a squat face in a majestic pose.
The large dog, seemingly oblivious to the hardships of its human companion, remained motionless, its front legs rigid and its buttocks comfortably resting on the cushion.
He even wore a veil on his head. He was truly an Emperor.
“Hello. This is my dog, Bella Bella.”
Isabella's expression darkened when she heard the puppy's name. Rubina glanced at Isabella and smiled with satisfaction as she continued.
“I was worried about my little child growing up, but I couldn’t give her a name. Then this morning, an inspiration suddenly came to me and I gave her one. Isn’t it pretty?”
It was almost like confirming that the dog was named after Isabella.
However, the fool sitting next to Isabella clapped his hands in response, whether he understood what she meant or not.
“The dog’s name is similar to my wife’s! ‘Bella Bella’ sounds much cuter than ‘Isabella’!”
The French bulldog's ugly nose twitched proudly as if it had heard the compliment. Rubina picked up the dog, placed it on her lap, and petted it lovingly.
“She’s a little new, but she’s pretty when she’s dressed up. They say clothes make the man.”
Isabella was so distracted by the veil that she didn't even notice it, but the giant gray French bulldog was also wearing what looked like a lace dress.
The rustling white organza was reminiscent of the dresses that Isabella would have worn when she was de Mare.
“Look at this. She’s wearing a tiara.”
Duchess Rubina took off the dog's veil.
A pink sapphire tiara shone brilliantly on the head of a giant gray French bulldog. Ottavio's eyes grew wide as if they were going to pop out.
His beautiful wife is about to come face to face with the very handsome punk she was once so naively fooled by - or so Ottavio still believes.
That alone was horrible. What if my wife looks at him again? What if she compares his face to his and thinks, “My husband is so ugly.”
If that were all the troubles he had in life, it would be bearable, but now Ottavio was on the verge of bankruptcy.
'Damn Remuin merchant!'
When Count Contarini was there, he was a man who acted like a tongue in the mouth.
But as soon as the owner of the house changed, he disappeared, embezzled all the money, and ran away.
“Not only did he embezzle the principal and interest he had lent to others, but he also sold the name of the Count Contarini family to borrow money from his business partners. All the moneylenders in San Carlo are crying out for the Contarini family to repay their debts.”
It was a big gamble planned and carried out.
'Damn Lemuin! You untrustworthy merchants! Anyone who doesn't believe in the Yesak religion is trash! Those who are as rich as merchants shouldn't be associated with each other!'
He was barely able to carry out his daily tasks, on the verge of going crazy.
If it weren't for the meeting of the Lesser Curia Regis, presided over by the King himself, he would have been crying at home and chewing on the blanket.
So when Ottavio encountered Cesare, he was not at all prepared to face him.
“!”
When Ottavio de Contarini encountered Cesare de Carlo, he stood frozen like a statue in the palace hallway.
It was right after the Lesser Curia Regis meeting. Whenever he went into that meeting, Ottavio had nothing to say, but he didn't want to look like an idiot, so he would just look around and say something nonsensical, then wrap his head in self-loathing.
For a moment, Ottavio's hair turned white, his vision went black, and finally, his whole body began to tremble.
'They say enemies meet on a single-log bridge...!'
Ottavio had a rather solemn expression on his face. He and Cesare had a very complicated relationship.
If Cesare were just an enemy, he could just draw his sword and stab him. But Cesare was a long-time friend, enemy, and the son of a King.
While Ottavio was wandering around unable to do anything, Cesare noticed him and spoke to him first.
"Hey."
It was a womanly tone of voice as if he hadn't seen him in ten days. That carefree expression was so unlucky that Ottavio wanted to hit him.
But what he said next was even more interesting. He smiled and said hello.
“Did you come to the hole?”
“This kid!”
An enraged Ottavio threw a punch.
Bam!
A blow to his jaw traveled up his hand. It was a dead blow. Cesare staggered back sharply after being hit in the face.
But Ottavio couldn't shake off an uneasy feeling. It seemed as if Cesare had hit him on purpose.
As expected, Cesare wiped his chapped lips and glared at Ottavio with bloodshot eyes.
He immediately swung his bloody fist at Ottavio's face.
Bam!!
Cesare's fist struck Ottavio in the face. This was a proper punch. Stars flew out before his eyes and Ottavio fell backwards.
Boom!
The sound of Ottavio's buttocks falling reverberated through the palace halls.
It was unbearably shameful. He couldn't beat that bastard up with his fists after he touched his woman.
Ottavio mustered all his strength to get up and rushed at Cesare again like a madman, throwing punches.
Bam!!
This time, he went in properly. Cesare staggered three or four steps and then slammed into the palace wall in an ugly manner.
Ottavio was sure that if there had been no wall, Cesare would have fallen on the floor.
But Ottavio's confidence did not last long, because Cesare pounced again, climbing on Ottavio and beating him.
The two clung to each other for a while and fought desperately.
At first, he rushed at him with the intent to kill him, but later they fought back and forth. He used his fists, kicked him, and even headbutted him.
Then, at some point, they collapsed on the floor from exhaustion and burst into loud laughter without anyone saying anything first.
“Haha, hahaha, hahahahaha!”
“Poohahahahahahaha!”
They laughed at each other's antics, they laughed because they were embarrassed, and they laughed because the situation was funny. The laughter just wouldn't stop.
The laughter that started with a burst of laughter continued for a long time and even turned into gasping for breath.
Cesare, who had been giggling for a while, tapped Ottavio on the shoulder while he was lying down.
"Hey."
Ottavio looked around. Cesare was lying on the floor, smiling, his handsome eyes narrowing.
“I missed you.”
Ottavio, who was visually impaired, felt the lump in his heart melt away at that moment. No, he thought it had melted away.
Ottavio, momentarily overcome with emotion, soon bumped into Cesare and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Bastard."
The two burst into laughter once again. It felt like their tightly packed hearts had been cleared. They lay on the floor and hugged each other tightly.
***
Ottavio's reconciliation with Cesare did not make Isabella's tea parties any more bearable or joyful.
Ottavio was upset about the business of the Remuin merchant and resented Isabella.
His excellent education and the upbringing he received as an aristocrat may have prevented him from openly saying things like, "I should have just married Camellia instead of marrying someone like you," but that didn't stop him from thinking such thoughts and acting on them from time to time.
“Are you really going to wear those clothes?”
“...Honey. I’ve already changed my clothes for the fifth time.”
“Why are all your closets like that? Don’t you have any clothes that don’t have a low neckline?”
“Stop arguing. What the hell is going on here?”
Isabella was wearing a gray dress that, by San Carlo standards, would have reached all the way to her neck.
“Your chest line is completely visible!”
Ottavio also didn't like the silhouette that was visible under the fabric.
“What the hell are you putting so much stuff in your chest on a cliff? Why don’t you throw away that weird chest cover? You’re so vulgar!”
“Stop talking about that!”
Isabella was tempted to protest that the bodice was for the Duchess of Rubina and not for Cesare and that Cesare already knew there was nothing here and would not be tempted by a bodice.
But she knew that if she did that, she would have to fight for three days and nights without being able to sleep, so she barely resisted the temptation.
Original sin is truly a terrible thing. It makes honest communication, the cornerstone of trust between couples, impossible.
All Isabella had prepared for Duchess Rubina was a breast covering.
However, Duchess Rubina had prepared a more terrifying ultimate move. It was a move that took a lot of preparation, work and thought.
“Count Contarini, thank you for taking the difficult step.”
Leo III had not yet said a word, but Duchess Rubina rose from her seat and warmly welcomed the young Count Contarini.
Dressed in splendid attire, she secretly kept Isabella in check and acted friendly to Ottavio.
She acted so friendly that even though she was wearing gloves, she shook the young man's hands, even though she was an old married woman with her common-law husband, to the point that Ottavio was taken aback.
“I have prepared a special guest for you today. I would like to make sure you meet Count Contarini.”
A, a special guest? Ottavio was secretly looking forward to it, given Rubina's expression of affection.
Perhaps someone who can handle the affairs of the Remuin merchant? A leader with great influence among the Lemuins, or someone who can catch and bring back a Remuin who has run away.
Ouch!
“Bring her in.”
But the creature that entered the room with Duchess Rubina's clapping was a world away from what Ottavio had imagined.
Deborah, one of Rubina's maids, entered the King's reception room holding a cushion aloft.
The maid's arms trembled as if they were weighing a considerable amount.
On top of it sat a French bulldog with a squat face in a majestic pose.
The large dog, seemingly oblivious to the hardships of its human companion, remained motionless, its front legs rigid and its buttocks comfortably resting on the cushion.
He even wore a veil on his head. He was truly an Emperor.
“Hello. This is my dog, Bella Bella.”
Isabella's expression darkened when she heard the puppy's name. Rubina glanced at Isabella and smiled with satisfaction as she continued.
“I was worried about my little child growing up, but I couldn’t give her a name. Then this morning, an inspiration suddenly came to me and I gave her one. Isn’t it pretty?”
It was almost like confirming that the dog was named after Isabella.
However, the fool sitting next to Isabella clapped his hands in response, whether he understood what she meant or not.
“The dog’s name is similar to my wife’s! ‘Bella Bella’ sounds much cuter than ‘Isabella’!”
The French bulldog's ugly nose twitched proudly as if it had heard the compliment. Rubina picked up the dog, placed it on her lap, and petted it lovingly.
“She’s a little new, but she’s pretty when she’s dressed up. They say clothes make the man.”
Isabella was so distracted by the veil that she didn't even notice it, but the giant gray French bulldog was also wearing what looked like a lace dress.
The rustling white organza was reminiscent of the dresses that Isabella would have worn when she was de Mare.
“Look at this. She’s wearing a tiara.”
Duchess Rubina took off the dog's veil.
A pink sapphire tiara shone brilliantly on the head of a giant gray French bulldog. Ottavio's eyes grew wide as if they were going to pop out.
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