Ariadne looked at her shaman grandmother with wide eyes. She would be lying if she said she didn't secretly expect her to say something like, 'Your father will become the Pope at some point.'
But the Moorish old woman shattered Ariadne's expectations.
“Your father has no luck! It’s a miracle that he got here. It’s an even bigger miracle that he escaped from that crazy group of witch hunters.”
Ariadne frowned.
“Oh, what is that? I told you not to be discouraged!”
“Hey, what’s good is good! When someone without luck climbs up, that’s when they start getting hurt!”
The old shaman began a long speech. It was mostly about things like, 'Your father had no luck and somehow managed to become a Cardinal, so your stepmother, who was like a stickler, clung to him and made you suffer for a long time.'
“A person should live according to his capacity!”
The second round of the old woman's sermon began, in which she said that the most difficult thing is to know your own vessel. After talking for a while, the old woman thought of Cardinal de Mare and said:
“It’ll be okay now. My fortune says that old age is comfortable.”
The old priestess looked at Ariadne, who was still sticking out her lips.
“And you have your own husband. Even without relying on your father’s power, you can live comfortably. Why are you so greedy? You have more than that.”
“You say I have a lot?”
Ariadne, who was about to become the daughter of the Pope and advance straight to the position of Princess, but fell down in front of her, asked a question.
“Don’t just look up. Open your eyes wide and look around you. Are there any children around you who have as much as you do?”
Well, that was true. She vaguely remembered her past life as Isabella, who had been strutting around in the front row of the social circle and envying those people. No woman in the Central Continent had as much fame as she did, whether she was a Princess or a noble.
But Ariadne could not be satisfied with this.
'I've even gone as far as regression, so shouldn't I have achieved this much?'
She didn't play by fair game rules. So, isn't it the least she should do to excel? She didn't want to fight with the grandmother, but she couldn't convince her.
Ariadne, who wanted to change the subject, held out her left arm and asked vaguely.
“My husband is going to treat me well? Will he become a King?”
The grandmother said as she mixed talcum powder with water and made a paste like clay, and applied it to Ariadne's hands.
“No, I can’t tell your fortune. I haven’t set up a boundary.”
Ariadne was surprised.
“Aren’t you using sorcery right now? You said you need to put up a barrier to use sorcery. Can you say this without putting up a barrier?!”
“Your hands were dry, so I moisturized them.”
“!”
Grandmother giggled as she looked into Ariadne's rabbit eyes. It was a lie.
“Oh, Grandma!”
“I’m hurt, I’m hurt.”
The old Moorish woman, smiling and waving her hand, told her about Alfonso's future that she had been looking into. She was curious anyway, so she had his fortune told as soon as she heard that the two were paired up.
“Your husband... is strange. He doesn’t have a clear future.”
“Huh? You can’t see it well?”
Ariadne was startled once more. Her grandmother scolded the girl with her rabbit eyes open.
“Why are you surprised again! You’re a total idiot. You can’t even see the future of your supporters, and your husband can’t see it either!”
But the paintings of the two that the old priestess spied on were different. If the fate of Ariadne, the regressor, did not seem completely black, as if looking into an abyss, Alfonso de Carlo's was simply hazy, as if covered in fog.
Unlike Ariadne's, which was an empty void with nothing, Alfonso's fate was not visible, but there was definitely something inside it. Something that was wriggling, squirming, and fluidly writhing.
“Your husband is not born with...”
Alfonso de Carlo's destiny was not to have a throne, much less an imperial one, but now the mood was changing for the worse.
“Let’s just wait and see.”
The old priestess muttered as she refilled the spell on Ariadne's arm.
“A sacred sword-like object has come to find its master. What’s the point of me, an interpreter, following behind, interfering?”
Ariadne's husband wasn't really a concern. He was heading in the right direction, no matter what. As long as he had enough energy, he could do anything. Rather, the grandma was worried about that girl who didn't even know her own fate and was just babbling in front of her.
“You...”
The Moorish old woman tried to nag, but then closed her mouth. Ariadne had escaped the cycle of reincarnation. If she succeeded, she would become one of the 'awakened ones' and ascend to a higher place, but...
If things don't work out, her soul will be torn to pieces and become the raw material for the awakened to perform miracles, causing her to suffer forever.
But there was nothing she could do now. Ariadne had been steadily doing social service and teaching low-income children, accumulating good deeds. But the glow in her right hand—the old woman was almost the only one who could see it, apart from Ariadne herself—had no intention of responding at all.
“Yes. That’s it.”
The old woman hit Ariadne on the back.
“Go quickly. Someone else might see.”
“It’s okay. I’m just making up excuses to come see my grandmother outside...”
“Yes, feel free to go out.”
The old woman wished that Ariadne could enjoy and savor this life a little longer, before the day of judgment that was just around the corner.
“Oh, that’s right.”
Grandmother stopped Ariadne as she was about to leave.
“If you see anyone suspicious, be sure to tell me. They’ll probably stand out like you, with a red dot under one eye, a halo on their hand, or something like that.”
"All right."
Today was the day the dress that had been ordered last quarter was delivered to the de Mare mansion. The old woman, realizing that Ariadne's mind was elsewhere, shouted.
“It’s important!”
Ariadne looked at her grandmother in surprise. The only person who treated her like this these days was the old lady priestess. Ariadne was about to lose her temper, but then she felt like she was being scolded by her cousin, so she scratched her head.
“Yes, I’ll definitely tell you.”
'Listen carefully.'
The old woman clicked her tongue. She was such a good child, so even though she glared at her to make her look like she was poisonous, it made her heart ache even more.
'I have to find the half-regressor who cast a spell on her...'
The compulsory invitation to the Thanksgiving Ball was extended to every count and above-class family in San Carlo, meaning that Isabella's family, the Contarini, also received the invitation.
“Hey. Even our ruined mistress receives an invitation like this.”
Ottavio, who had received an invitation not to the Count Bartolini family but to the Countess Contarini and her husband, was angry with his wife.
“My husband is ruined, my father is ruined, my brother is kicked out of the house. I have nothing to show for it, but an invitation comes from the palace. Our Goddess is born, born.”
Isabella kept her mouth shut and said nothing. Unlike Ariadne, who had enjoyed Alfonso's full support despite her father's downfall, the removal of Cardinal de Mare from power was fatal to Isabella.
“You said you’d have to give up your house soon? You always kept talking about your parents’ house, your parents’ house, and now what? You’re going to end up broke for nothing?”
“...Stop it.”
“You don’t have any of the money your brother used to give you. You don’t have a father to look after you. You used to shake your butt around while doing business, but now there’s no one to call you, so what are you going to do?”
“Stop it.”
“I know you’re seeing a guy. Do you think I don’t know?”
Ottavio snorted. He checked Isabella’s expression as he spoke, but his wife didn’t even blink.
Ottavio had no evidence, but his suspicions were overwhelming. He was doubly offended.
'How can you be so shameless and pretend not to know?!'
...And even if Isabella wasn't seeing other men, it didn't matter. The fact that Isabella didn't even flinch made him angry. He wanted to hurt Isabella.
“If you keep doing that, the day you get caught will be your Memorial Day. Now there will be no one to look after you, so you will get a divorce right away!”
Having a lover was a common occurrence, and the Holy See would not allow a divorce for such a thing, but it didn't matter.
“No, how can you divorce a woman who doesn’t have a family? Just kill her off by applying family law! Only Princesses born to nobles do things like chivalry and courtly love. If a commoner like you who got married and rose to fame overnight gets caught cheating, you’ll be beaten to death, and you’ll have nothing to say!”
Given the circumstances of their marriage, Isabella would never have reached her full potential by marrying Ottavio. But it didn't matter. If she were to swear at him, Isabella would be terrified, and Ottavio would want to see the woman's squeaky-sweet little slut.
“Oh my!”
But Isabella got up from her seat, swearing at him and all.
“You incompetent brat who can’t even stand up, you have so much to say? Do you want to see me go to the HolybSee court and say that my husband is not good and that I am a fugitive?!”
Isabella had no such thing as giving in gracefully. Ottavio, who was momentarily startled by Isabella's momentum, shouted in anger as well. Embarrassed at having been intimidated for a moment, he raised his voice twice as loudly.
“I’m going to kick that cheating wife out, I’m going to kick you out of my house!”
“That guy who can’t even act like a man has developed a delusion of persecution and is barking all the time. Should I just shut up?”
Isabella poured out belittling remarks about Ottavio's masculinity. At one point, Ottavio covered his ears with both hands and screamed.
“Ugh!”
As expected, Ottavio de Contarani was not the vessel to contain Isabella de Mare. And Isabella, who had neither blood nor tears, considered this her victory.
"Ha!"
She stormed out of the room, stamping her feet like an angry mare.
Boom!
Ottavio started screaming alone in the empty room, then started rolling around, pulling out his hair.
“AAAAAHHHH!!”
Although she came out of the room with dignity, Isabella had nowhere to go. Although she immediately suppressed Ottavio, she was still afraid of the future.
Indeed, Ottavio was right. As soon as Ippolito went wrong, those who had really wanted to meet her for business stopped coming, and the few who remained began to ignore her letters as soon as Cardinal de Mare went wrong.
Lately, even Leticia hadn't contacted her. Isabella was terrified at the thought that she might really be left alone in the world.
“Sob, sob sob...”
Isabella eventually burst into tears, standing huddled in the hallway of Clemente's house, her shoulders shaking.
Ottavio had long since taken her mistress's ring. The money she had been getting from Ippolito and the money she had been elegantly borrowing from Leticia were all gone. She had no home, no money, and no friends, and there was nowhere she could go.
'What if Ottavio really kicks me out?'
She thought of her sister-in-law Clemente, who was glaring at her with her white eyes. Clemente would think that if Ottavio were to make a fuss, this would be the moment. She would run faster than anyone else and try to chase Isabella away.
She wished Count Bartolini had taken her side, but he was in poor health these days and always stayed in his bedroom. She never had time to get close to him.
She had no one on her side.
Isabella cried loudly. It was fortunate that no one was watching. Isabella had to be always beautiful and always superior, but it was impossible to reconcile the gap between reality and ideals.
“Sob, sob sob sob...”
Tears were the best way to melt away anxiety and tension. Isabella, who had been sobbing for a long time, suddenly felt an unfamiliar scent enveloping her.
She lifted her head slightly. There was not much to see. She could see the man’s arms wrapped around her. His skin was pitch black like obsidian. It was Agosto.
Isabella had never imagined that her skin would ever touch Agosto's. A Moorish slave—not a slave, really—was not even on her list of surnames.
But his smooth black skin was warm and soft. It was the human body temperature.
Agosto silently offered his shoulder. Isabella hugged him without thinking about the front or the back and cried loudly. Today, it's here.
In some ways, it could have been a warm scene of the marginalized comforting each other. However, Isabella's life did not turn out that way.
A crooked smile appeared on Agosto's lips as he finally received treatment that was slightly better than dinner stew.
Ippolito ran along the forest path without thinking. It was the northernmost part of the Etruscan kingdom.
'Isn't that the estate of the guy who almost became my brother-in-law?'
The westernmost point, the northernmost point. The apex, where the head of the Etruscan kingdom began. It was Cesare's Duchy of Pisano.
There was room for debate as to which sister's husband he would become, but in any case, isn't it true that he was infinitely close to being a brother-in-law?
Ippolito felt an indescribable discomfort at the fact that he could not immediately run to the castle of Ginelli, the center of Pisano's territory, and tell his master to come out and serve him, his wife's older brother.
'If only that could happen.'
The assassins on his tail were indeed tenacious. They set out from San Carlo and went together as if playing hide-and-seek on the way up to the Pisano estate. When Ippolito abandoned the mule and started riding barefoot to overcome the power difference between the mule and the horse, they chased him all the way to the mountain range.
'You crazy, crazy bastard. You're a fucking leech with nothing better to do.'
Still, it was only a little further on. After passing the Pisano domain, he would pass through a small amount of Gallico land and then the kingdom of Salamanta, where there was a mountain fortress where his father, the Ironclad Variati, was stationed.
Ippolito looked out at the start of the rugged Prenoyac Mountains and thought.
'Father, the son is leaving soon.'
Ippolito's heart swelled with pride, not knowing how much he would suffer in those mountains.
But the Moorish old woman shattered Ariadne's expectations.
“Your father has no luck! It’s a miracle that he got here. It’s an even bigger miracle that he escaped from that crazy group of witch hunters.”
Ariadne frowned.
“Oh, what is that? I told you not to be discouraged!”
“Hey, what’s good is good! When someone without luck climbs up, that’s when they start getting hurt!”
The old shaman began a long speech. It was mostly about things like, 'Your father had no luck and somehow managed to become a Cardinal, so your stepmother, who was like a stickler, clung to him and made you suffer for a long time.'
“A person should live according to his capacity!”
The second round of the old woman's sermon began, in which she said that the most difficult thing is to know your own vessel. After talking for a while, the old woman thought of Cardinal de Mare and said:
“It’ll be okay now. My fortune says that old age is comfortable.”
The old priestess looked at Ariadne, who was still sticking out her lips.
“And you have your own husband. Even without relying on your father’s power, you can live comfortably. Why are you so greedy? You have more than that.”
“You say I have a lot?”
Ariadne, who was about to become the daughter of the Pope and advance straight to the position of Princess, but fell down in front of her, asked a question.
“Don’t just look up. Open your eyes wide and look around you. Are there any children around you who have as much as you do?”
Well, that was true. She vaguely remembered her past life as Isabella, who had been strutting around in the front row of the social circle and envying those people. No woman in the Central Continent had as much fame as she did, whether she was a Princess or a noble.
But Ariadne could not be satisfied with this.
'I've even gone as far as regression, so shouldn't I have achieved this much?'
She didn't play by fair game rules. So, isn't it the least she should do to excel? She didn't want to fight with the grandmother, but she couldn't convince her.
Ariadne, who wanted to change the subject, held out her left arm and asked vaguely.
“My husband is going to treat me well? Will he become a King?”
The grandmother said as she mixed talcum powder with water and made a paste like clay, and applied it to Ariadne's hands.
“No, I can’t tell your fortune. I haven’t set up a boundary.”
Ariadne was surprised.
“Aren’t you using sorcery right now? You said you need to put up a barrier to use sorcery. Can you say this without putting up a barrier?!”
“Your hands were dry, so I moisturized them.”
“!”
Grandmother giggled as she looked into Ariadne's rabbit eyes. It was a lie.
“Oh, Grandma!”
“I’m hurt, I’m hurt.”
The old Moorish woman, smiling and waving her hand, told her about Alfonso's future that she had been looking into. She was curious anyway, so she had his fortune told as soon as she heard that the two were paired up.
“Your husband... is strange. He doesn’t have a clear future.”
“Huh? You can’t see it well?”
Ariadne was startled once more. Her grandmother scolded the girl with her rabbit eyes open.
“Why are you surprised again! You’re a total idiot. You can’t even see the future of your supporters, and your husband can’t see it either!”
But the paintings of the two that the old priestess spied on were different. If the fate of Ariadne, the regressor, did not seem completely black, as if looking into an abyss, Alfonso de Carlo's was simply hazy, as if covered in fog.
Unlike Ariadne's, which was an empty void with nothing, Alfonso's fate was not visible, but there was definitely something inside it. Something that was wriggling, squirming, and fluidly writhing.
“Your husband is not born with...”
Alfonso de Carlo's destiny was not to have a throne, much less an imperial one, but now the mood was changing for the worse.
“Let’s just wait and see.”
The old priestess muttered as she refilled the spell on Ariadne's arm.
“A sacred sword-like object has come to find its master. What’s the point of me, an interpreter, following behind, interfering?”
Ariadne's husband wasn't really a concern. He was heading in the right direction, no matter what. As long as he had enough energy, he could do anything. Rather, the grandma was worried about that girl who didn't even know her own fate and was just babbling in front of her.
“You...”
The Moorish old woman tried to nag, but then closed her mouth. Ariadne had escaped the cycle of reincarnation. If she succeeded, she would become one of the 'awakened ones' and ascend to a higher place, but...
If things don't work out, her soul will be torn to pieces and become the raw material for the awakened to perform miracles, causing her to suffer forever.
But there was nothing she could do now. Ariadne had been steadily doing social service and teaching low-income children, accumulating good deeds. But the glow in her right hand—the old woman was almost the only one who could see it, apart from Ariadne herself—had no intention of responding at all.
“Yes. That’s it.”
The old woman hit Ariadne on the back.
“Go quickly. Someone else might see.”
“It’s okay. I’m just making up excuses to come see my grandmother outside...”
“Yes, feel free to go out.”
The old woman wished that Ariadne could enjoy and savor this life a little longer, before the day of judgment that was just around the corner.
“Oh, that’s right.”
Grandmother stopped Ariadne as she was about to leave.
“If you see anyone suspicious, be sure to tell me. They’ll probably stand out like you, with a red dot under one eye, a halo on their hand, or something like that.”
"All right."
Today was the day the dress that had been ordered last quarter was delivered to the de Mare mansion. The old woman, realizing that Ariadne's mind was elsewhere, shouted.
“It’s important!”
Ariadne looked at her grandmother in surprise. The only person who treated her like this these days was the old lady priestess. Ariadne was about to lose her temper, but then she felt like she was being scolded by her cousin, so she scratched her head.
“Yes, I’ll definitely tell you.”
'Listen carefully.'
The old woman clicked her tongue. She was such a good child, so even though she glared at her to make her look like she was poisonous, it made her heart ache even more.
'I have to find the half-regressor who cast a spell on her...'
***
The compulsory invitation to the Thanksgiving Ball was extended to every count and above-class family in San Carlo, meaning that Isabella's family, the Contarini, also received the invitation.
“Hey. Even our ruined mistress receives an invitation like this.”
Ottavio, who had received an invitation not to the Count Bartolini family but to the Countess Contarini and her husband, was angry with his wife.
“My husband is ruined, my father is ruined, my brother is kicked out of the house. I have nothing to show for it, but an invitation comes from the palace. Our Goddess is born, born.”
Isabella kept her mouth shut and said nothing. Unlike Ariadne, who had enjoyed Alfonso's full support despite her father's downfall, the removal of Cardinal de Mare from power was fatal to Isabella.
“You said you’d have to give up your house soon? You always kept talking about your parents’ house, your parents’ house, and now what? You’re going to end up broke for nothing?”
“...Stop it.”
“You don’t have any of the money your brother used to give you. You don’t have a father to look after you. You used to shake your butt around while doing business, but now there’s no one to call you, so what are you going to do?”
“Stop it.”
“I know you’re seeing a guy. Do you think I don’t know?”
Ottavio snorted. He checked Isabella’s expression as he spoke, but his wife didn’t even blink.
Ottavio had no evidence, but his suspicions were overwhelming. He was doubly offended.
'How can you be so shameless and pretend not to know?!'
...And even if Isabella wasn't seeing other men, it didn't matter. The fact that Isabella didn't even flinch made him angry. He wanted to hurt Isabella.
“If you keep doing that, the day you get caught will be your Memorial Day. Now there will be no one to look after you, so you will get a divorce right away!”
Having a lover was a common occurrence, and the Holy See would not allow a divorce for such a thing, but it didn't matter.
“No, how can you divorce a woman who doesn’t have a family? Just kill her off by applying family law! Only Princesses born to nobles do things like chivalry and courtly love. If a commoner like you who got married and rose to fame overnight gets caught cheating, you’ll be beaten to death, and you’ll have nothing to say!”
Given the circumstances of their marriage, Isabella would never have reached her full potential by marrying Ottavio. But it didn't matter. If she were to swear at him, Isabella would be terrified, and Ottavio would want to see the woman's squeaky-sweet little slut.
“Oh my!”
But Isabella got up from her seat, swearing at him and all.
“You incompetent brat who can’t even stand up, you have so much to say? Do you want to see me go to the HolybSee court and say that my husband is not good and that I am a fugitive?!”
Isabella had no such thing as giving in gracefully. Ottavio, who was momentarily startled by Isabella's momentum, shouted in anger as well. Embarrassed at having been intimidated for a moment, he raised his voice twice as loudly.
“I’m going to kick that cheating wife out, I’m going to kick you out of my house!”
“That guy who can’t even act like a man has developed a delusion of persecution and is barking all the time. Should I just shut up?”
Isabella poured out belittling remarks about Ottavio's masculinity. At one point, Ottavio covered his ears with both hands and screamed.
“Ugh!”
As expected, Ottavio de Contarani was not the vessel to contain Isabella de Mare. And Isabella, who had neither blood nor tears, considered this her victory.
"Ha!"
She stormed out of the room, stamping her feet like an angry mare.
Boom!
Ottavio started screaming alone in the empty room, then started rolling around, pulling out his hair.
“AAAAAHHHH!!”
***
Although she came out of the room with dignity, Isabella had nowhere to go. Although she immediately suppressed Ottavio, she was still afraid of the future.
Indeed, Ottavio was right. As soon as Ippolito went wrong, those who had really wanted to meet her for business stopped coming, and the few who remained began to ignore her letters as soon as Cardinal de Mare went wrong.
Lately, even Leticia hadn't contacted her. Isabella was terrified at the thought that she might really be left alone in the world.
“Sob, sob sob...”
Isabella eventually burst into tears, standing huddled in the hallway of Clemente's house, her shoulders shaking.
Ottavio had long since taken her mistress's ring. The money she had been getting from Ippolito and the money she had been elegantly borrowing from Leticia were all gone. She had no home, no money, and no friends, and there was nowhere she could go.
'What if Ottavio really kicks me out?'
She thought of her sister-in-law Clemente, who was glaring at her with her white eyes. Clemente would think that if Ottavio were to make a fuss, this would be the moment. She would run faster than anyone else and try to chase Isabella away.
She wished Count Bartolini had taken her side, but he was in poor health these days and always stayed in his bedroom. She never had time to get close to him.
She had no one on her side.
Isabella cried loudly. It was fortunate that no one was watching. Isabella had to be always beautiful and always superior, but it was impossible to reconcile the gap between reality and ideals.
“Sob, sob sob sob...”
Tears were the best way to melt away anxiety and tension. Isabella, who had been sobbing for a long time, suddenly felt an unfamiliar scent enveloping her.
She lifted her head slightly. There was not much to see. She could see the man’s arms wrapped around her. His skin was pitch black like obsidian. It was Agosto.
Isabella had never imagined that her skin would ever touch Agosto's. A Moorish slave—not a slave, really—was not even on her list of surnames.
But his smooth black skin was warm and soft. It was the human body temperature.
Agosto silently offered his shoulder. Isabella hugged him without thinking about the front or the back and cried loudly. Today, it's here.
In some ways, it could have been a warm scene of the marginalized comforting each other. However, Isabella's life did not turn out that way.
A crooked smile appeared on Agosto's lips as he finally received treatment that was slightly better than dinner stew.
***
Ippolito ran along the forest path without thinking. It was the northernmost part of the Etruscan kingdom.
'Isn't that the estate of the guy who almost became my brother-in-law?'
The westernmost point, the northernmost point. The apex, where the head of the Etruscan kingdom began. It was Cesare's Duchy of Pisano.
There was room for debate as to which sister's husband he would become, but in any case, isn't it true that he was infinitely close to being a brother-in-law?
Ippolito felt an indescribable discomfort at the fact that he could not immediately run to the castle of Ginelli, the center of Pisano's territory, and tell his master to come out and serve him, his wife's older brother.
'If only that could happen.'
The assassins on his tail were indeed tenacious. They set out from San Carlo and went together as if playing hide-and-seek on the way up to the Pisano estate. When Ippolito abandoned the mule and started riding barefoot to overcome the power difference between the mule and the horse, they chased him all the way to the mountain range.
'You crazy, crazy bastard. You're a fucking leech with nothing better to do.'
Still, it was only a little further on. After passing the Pisano domain, he would pass through a small amount of Gallico land and then the kingdom of Salamanta, where there was a mountain fortress where his father, the Ironclad Variati, was stationed.
Ippolito looked out at the start of the rugged Prenoyac Mountains and thought.
'Father, the son is leaving soon.'
Ippolito's heart swelled with pride, not knowing how much he would suffer in those mountains.
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