Clemente turned around and spoke calmly.
“...A 7-point man? Was my brother that insignificant to you?”
It was doubly scary because her voice was so quiet. She asked quietly, her expression unseen.
“Does Ottavio know that, too?”
Isabella's tone suddenly softened.
“Sister, just a moment.”
But Clemente didn't look back. She strode down the hallway without a moment's hesitation, muttering.
“If you’re so confident, let’s go ask my sister. Is it okay for you to go around like that? Ottavio de Contarini is 7 points, and his wife Isabella is 98 points. Does he admit that he's such a fool that he can’t help but understand that his wife is always hanging around outside!”
“Sister, sister.”
Isabella often followed Clemente at a brisk pace.
“Sister, let’s talk about us. Don’t be like that, okay?”
Clemente's steps became faster as he walked forward with long strides.
“Sister, sister!”
He paid no attention to Isabella's call. Isabella's voice, which was becoming more urgent, was also beginning to fill with evil.
“Sister! Hey! Clemente! Hey, Minipin!”
Clemente didn't even respond to the word "minipin." She was headed to the stables. She was planning to return to the palace in the same clothes she had come in.
As Clemente strode down the porch of the annex, Isabella realized where Clemente was headed. Clemente was planning to enter the palace and blow everything up.
Isabella, whose thoughts reached this point, was startled and grabbed her sister-in-law. Her hand grabbed Clemente's sleeve.
“Hey, are you crazy?! When you open your mouth, are you the only one who has something to say? Come on, let’s dig together!”
But Clemente, panting, shoved Isabella away roughly. Her face was briefly visible as Clemente turned her shoulder sharply to shake her off.
The eyes were turned. Isabella had a feeling. There was nothing there now.
Isabella's mind was racing with calculations. Who will protect me? Shr can't trust my father. Ariadne? That damned girl is the enemy. If she had stabbed her, she would have stabbed her. She wouldn't have helped her. Her brother, Ippolito, whether he was alive or dead, didn't even have a word. What's the point of talking to Ottavio? Oh, damn it. She should have just flattered Count Bartolini.
The thought that she should have gone when DiPascal ran away with him crossed her mind for about three seconds, but it soon disappeared. Isabella couldn’t live like that. Leaving the city and hiding in the countryside, living only for love, was not the kind of life Isabella de Mare could lead.
Then the conclusion finally became clear: Clemente should not be sent.
“Hey. Hey. You stand there. Don’t go. Stand there.”
Isabella quickly looked around while trying to comfort her sister-in-law. This was the annex to the Bartolini family’s garden. There was no one here. Only the maids came and went occasionally to clean the room at mealtimes or in the morning.
Now, Isabella's vision was also empty. There was only a large, dark-skinned man, Agosto, waiting at the entrance, where the servant was waiting.
Isabella's eyes met Agosto's. The whites of his eyes, the only white part of his face, flashed. Isabella decided that Agosto was not a problem. She didn't know whether it was because she trusted his loyalty to her or because she didn't think Agosto was a human being.
And the stairs. There were stairs. Not as high as the main staircase of the de Mare mansion, but high enough to push a person off.
Clemente was standing at the very bottom of a staircase where the railing was starting to drop.
Isabella's voice lowered.
“Sister.”
Clemente should have noticed something ominous in that voice.
Just as Clemente was about to take her first step up the stairs, ignoring Isabella, Isabella's slender, white hand pushed her back from behind.
Clemente stumbled, lost her balance, and didn't have time to look back. Isabella shoved Clemente hard again.
“Ugh!”
Isabella felt a strange sense of foreboding. It was exactly the same as when she had pushed Arabella, but Isabella wasn't exactly conscious of it at the time.
But Isabella was able to push Clemente a little more lightly today than last time, because she hadn't learned any lessons from the incident where she pushed Arabella.
Clemente fell forward on the stairs. She landed hard on the landing, either on her head or her right shoulder.
"Aaah!"
There was no screaming after that.
Boom!
The body was thrown into the air.
Boom!
She rolled down the stairs and landed on the uncarpeted oak floor of the annex.
Crack!
With the last crack of Clemente's body, Isabella looked around. Agosto was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she heard the sound and the sound of people rushing from the main building.
The main door of the annex opened, and the butler of the Bartolini family rushed in. As soon as Isabella saw that someone had come, she let out a scream.
“Gyaaaaaaah! My sister, my sister fell!”
The Bartolini Counts were turned upside down. Doctors from the capital, who were known to be the best, arrived one after another. Ottavio, who had been drinking and dancing in the palace, was summoned and returned home. The old Count, who had been ill and unable to attend the palace ball and was recuperating in his bedroom, also came out of his room and sat in the large gallery that had been turned into a temporary meeting room.
And Isabella buried her face in her hands in the gallery, her thin shoulders trembling and tears falling.
“Sigh, sigh...! Giovanna was crying on the first floor... My sister hurriedly went to check on the baby, but she misstepped on the stairs...”
The whole family was looking at her. Isabella was more radiant on the main stage. Her acting was perfect. Her flaxen hair tickled her cheeks. The sagging cheeks made her look even paler.
“It’s all my fault! If I had taken better care of the baby, Giovanna wouldn’t have cried in the first place...!”
None of the noblewomen took care of the child themselves, so this was actually a complaint against Count Bartolini, who pretended to be pitiful and did not provide a dedicated nanny. Some maids took turns taking care of the child part-time, but they were also away at that time, so they could not say anything and just hung their heads.
Instead of arguing, Count Bartolini, exhausted and frightened, questioned the doctors.
“Clemente... how is my wife?”
“...She is unconscious. As your sister-in-law, Countess Contarini, said...”
Isabella glanced at the doctor who was speaking when her name was mentioned. He was a middle-aged male doctor. Right, that kind of person would never treat her badly. Isabella felt that the atmosphere was turning in her favor.
“It looks like she tripped and fell down the stairs.”
Done! Isabella secretly cheered.
Agosto, the only witness, sat like a shadow in the far corner of the conference hall. No one even asked Agosto what the situation was like. This was because he was a Moor.
But even if Count Bartolini were to interrogate Agosto, Isabella was confident that Agosto would not give testimony that would land her in the mud.
Only Ottavio glared at Isabella with a discontented expression. Here, Ottavio was the only one who actively suspected Isabella. Ottavio also did not do it because he had a good sense, but because he did not like everything about Isabella.
But even he was cautious in his actions in front of Count Bartolini, who was responsible for all of his livelihood. What if he acted uselessly while his sister was unconscious and got kicked out of this house?
Count Bartolini sighed deeply.
“You guys stay in the mansion all night. Stay there until Clemente wakes up.”
The butler looked at the old Count with puzzled eyes. There were five doctors called here now. But the old Count spoke forcefully.
“All of you.”
Isabella nodded, thinking to herself that her brother-in-law was very affectionate.
'If there are five doctors, it will be difficult for me to sneak in at night and press down on him with a pillow.'
But Isabella wasn't too worried. The experience of success had made her bold. Arabella died on her own without any follow-up action. Clemente would certainly do the same.
At that moment, a maid came running down from the second floor of the main building. She was the servant who served Clemente.
“Your Grace, the Count! Your Grace, the Count!”
All eyes in the grand gallery were focused on Clemente's servant. Isabella smiled with joy as she foresaw the future.
'Speak, speak, the lady is dead...!'
But the scream that burst from the maid's mouth was the exact opposite of Isabella's prediction.
“The lady has woken up!!”
Isabella's eyes widened as if they were going to burst. The old Count sat up abruptly, clutching his waist and groaning.
“Oh my...!”
But he ran up to the second floor, holding onto his waist.
Clak! Clak! Clak!
The sound of the cane clanged busily down the stairs. Isabella looked around, unable to control her expression. To her ears, the sound of the cane sounded like the footsteps of the grim reaper.
'Should I run away? Run away now?'
Where are you going? Steal a horse? Just go somewhere?
But Isabella's terrified plan was never put into action.
“...A 7-point man? Was my brother that insignificant to you?”
It was doubly scary because her voice was so quiet. She asked quietly, her expression unseen.
“Does Ottavio know that, too?”
Isabella's tone suddenly softened.
“Sister, just a moment.”
But Clemente didn't look back. She strode down the hallway without a moment's hesitation, muttering.
“If you’re so confident, let’s go ask my sister. Is it okay for you to go around like that? Ottavio de Contarini is 7 points, and his wife Isabella is 98 points. Does he admit that he's such a fool that he can’t help but understand that his wife is always hanging around outside!”
“Sister, sister.”
Isabella often followed Clemente at a brisk pace.
“Sister, let’s talk about us. Don’t be like that, okay?”
Clemente's steps became faster as he walked forward with long strides.
“Sister, sister!”
He paid no attention to Isabella's call. Isabella's voice, which was becoming more urgent, was also beginning to fill with evil.
“Sister! Hey! Clemente! Hey, Minipin!”
Clemente didn't even respond to the word "minipin." She was headed to the stables. She was planning to return to the palace in the same clothes she had come in.
As Clemente strode down the porch of the annex, Isabella realized where Clemente was headed. Clemente was planning to enter the palace and blow everything up.
Isabella, whose thoughts reached this point, was startled and grabbed her sister-in-law. Her hand grabbed Clemente's sleeve.
“Hey, are you crazy?! When you open your mouth, are you the only one who has something to say? Come on, let’s dig together!”
But Clemente, panting, shoved Isabella away roughly. Her face was briefly visible as Clemente turned her shoulder sharply to shake her off.
The eyes were turned. Isabella had a feeling. There was nothing there now.
Isabella's mind was racing with calculations. Who will protect me? Shr can't trust my father. Ariadne? That damned girl is the enemy. If she had stabbed her, she would have stabbed her. She wouldn't have helped her. Her brother, Ippolito, whether he was alive or dead, didn't even have a word. What's the point of talking to Ottavio? Oh, damn it. She should have just flattered Count Bartolini.
The thought that she should have gone when DiPascal ran away with him crossed her mind for about three seconds, but it soon disappeared. Isabella couldn’t live like that. Leaving the city and hiding in the countryside, living only for love, was not the kind of life Isabella de Mare could lead.
Then the conclusion finally became clear: Clemente should not be sent.
“Hey. Hey. You stand there. Don’t go. Stand there.”
Isabella quickly looked around while trying to comfort her sister-in-law. This was the annex to the Bartolini family’s garden. There was no one here. Only the maids came and went occasionally to clean the room at mealtimes or in the morning.
Now, Isabella's vision was also empty. There was only a large, dark-skinned man, Agosto, waiting at the entrance, where the servant was waiting.
Isabella's eyes met Agosto's. The whites of his eyes, the only white part of his face, flashed. Isabella decided that Agosto was not a problem. She didn't know whether it was because she trusted his loyalty to her or because she didn't think Agosto was a human being.
And the stairs. There were stairs. Not as high as the main staircase of the de Mare mansion, but high enough to push a person off.
Clemente was standing at the very bottom of a staircase where the railing was starting to drop.
Isabella's voice lowered.
“Sister.”
Clemente should have noticed something ominous in that voice.
Just as Clemente was about to take her first step up the stairs, ignoring Isabella, Isabella's slender, white hand pushed her back from behind.
Clemente stumbled, lost her balance, and didn't have time to look back. Isabella shoved Clemente hard again.
“Ugh!”
Isabella felt a strange sense of foreboding. It was exactly the same as when she had pushed Arabella, but Isabella wasn't exactly conscious of it at the time.
But Isabella was able to push Clemente a little more lightly today than last time, because she hadn't learned any lessons from the incident where she pushed Arabella.
Clemente fell forward on the stairs. She landed hard on the landing, either on her head or her right shoulder.
"Aaah!"
There was no screaming after that.
Boom!
The body was thrown into the air.
Boom!
She rolled down the stairs and landed on the uncarpeted oak floor of the annex.
Crack!
With the last crack of Clemente's body, Isabella looked around. Agosto was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she heard the sound and the sound of people rushing from the main building.
The main door of the annex opened, and the butler of the Bartolini family rushed in. As soon as Isabella saw that someone had come, she let out a scream.
“Gyaaaaaaah! My sister, my sister fell!”
***
The Bartolini Counts were turned upside down. Doctors from the capital, who were known to be the best, arrived one after another. Ottavio, who had been drinking and dancing in the palace, was summoned and returned home. The old Count, who had been ill and unable to attend the palace ball and was recuperating in his bedroom, also came out of his room and sat in the large gallery that had been turned into a temporary meeting room.
And Isabella buried her face in her hands in the gallery, her thin shoulders trembling and tears falling.
“Sigh, sigh...! Giovanna was crying on the first floor... My sister hurriedly went to check on the baby, but she misstepped on the stairs...”
The whole family was looking at her. Isabella was more radiant on the main stage. Her acting was perfect. Her flaxen hair tickled her cheeks. The sagging cheeks made her look even paler.
“It’s all my fault! If I had taken better care of the baby, Giovanna wouldn’t have cried in the first place...!”
None of the noblewomen took care of the child themselves, so this was actually a complaint against Count Bartolini, who pretended to be pitiful and did not provide a dedicated nanny. Some maids took turns taking care of the child part-time, but they were also away at that time, so they could not say anything and just hung their heads.
Instead of arguing, Count Bartolini, exhausted and frightened, questioned the doctors.
“Clemente... how is my wife?”
“...She is unconscious. As your sister-in-law, Countess Contarini, said...”
Isabella glanced at the doctor who was speaking when her name was mentioned. He was a middle-aged male doctor. Right, that kind of person would never treat her badly. Isabella felt that the atmosphere was turning in her favor.
“It looks like she tripped and fell down the stairs.”
Done! Isabella secretly cheered.
Agosto, the only witness, sat like a shadow in the far corner of the conference hall. No one even asked Agosto what the situation was like. This was because he was a Moor.
But even if Count Bartolini were to interrogate Agosto, Isabella was confident that Agosto would not give testimony that would land her in the mud.
Only Ottavio glared at Isabella with a discontented expression. Here, Ottavio was the only one who actively suspected Isabella. Ottavio also did not do it because he had a good sense, but because he did not like everything about Isabella.
But even he was cautious in his actions in front of Count Bartolini, who was responsible for all of his livelihood. What if he acted uselessly while his sister was unconscious and got kicked out of this house?
Count Bartolini sighed deeply.
“You guys stay in the mansion all night. Stay there until Clemente wakes up.”
The butler looked at the old Count with puzzled eyes. There were five doctors called here now. But the old Count spoke forcefully.
“All of you.”
Isabella nodded, thinking to herself that her brother-in-law was very affectionate.
'If there are five doctors, it will be difficult for me to sneak in at night and press down on him with a pillow.'
But Isabella wasn't too worried. The experience of success had made her bold. Arabella died on her own without any follow-up action. Clemente would certainly do the same.
At that moment, a maid came running down from the second floor of the main building. She was the servant who served Clemente.
“Your Grace, the Count! Your Grace, the Count!”
All eyes in the grand gallery were focused on Clemente's servant. Isabella smiled with joy as she foresaw the future.
'Speak, speak, the lady is dead...!'
But the scream that burst from the maid's mouth was the exact opposite of Isabella's prediction.
“The lady has woken up!!”
Isabella's eyes widened as if they were going to burst. The old Count sat up abruptly, clutching his waist and groaning.
“Oh my...!”
But he ran up to the second floor, holding onto his waist.
Clak! Clak! Clak!
The sound of the cane clanged busily down the stairs. Isabella looked around, unable to control her expression. To her ears, the sound of the cane sounded like the footsteps of the grim reaper.
'Should I run away? Run away now?'
Where are you going? Steal a horse? Just go somewhere?
But Isabella's terrified plan was never put into action.
Bam!
Her wrist was grabbed by a very vicious hand. Isabella looked up at the owner of the hand as the pain surged. It was her husband, Ottavio.
“Madam, let’s go up and ask about your sister.”
It was a sentence that was tightly packed with each and every word, as if he had intuited something.
“My wife. You were so worried about your sister's well-being. You have to see her wake up yourself.”
Isabella was taken upstairs by her husband without saying a word of protest, looking pale.
“Oh! Clemente!”
In Clemente's bedroom, where Isabella had been dragged like an ox to the slaughter, the old Count Bartolini was embracing the young Countess Bartolini.
“I was afraid you would go before me!”
The maids who were looking after her also held towels soaked in cold water and wiped away their tears. A loving husband and loyal subordinate. It was a touching scene. However, Countess Bartolini had something more important to do than take care of her husband, who was overwhelmed with emotion.
“Isabella!”
Clemente cried out in a shrill voice. Everyone looked at Isabella. Meanwhile, Clemente shouted.
“That bitch pushed me!”
Her wrist was grabbed by a very vicious hand. Isabella looked up at the owner of the hand as the pain surged. It was her husband, Ottavio.
“Madam, let’s go up and ask about your sister.”
It was a sentence that was tightly packed with each and every word, as if he had intuited something.
“My wife. You were so worried about your sister's well-being. You have to see her wake up yourself.”
Isabella was taken upstairs by her husband without saying a word of protest, looking pale.
“Oh! Clemente!”
In Clemente's bedroom, where Isabella had been dragged like an ox to the slaughter, the old Count Bartolini was embracing the young Countess Bartolini.
“I was afraid you would go before me!”
The maids who were looking after her also held towels soaked in cold water and wiped away their tears. A loving husband and loyal subordinate. It was a touching scene. However, Countess Bartolini had something more important to do than take care of her husband, who was overwhelmed with emotion.
“Isabella!”
Clemente cried out in a shrill voice. Everyone looked at Isabella. Meanwhile, Clemente shouted.
“That bitch pushed me!”
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