Thanks to the intervention of Sir Manfredi, Alfonso was able to escape from the room where Ariadne was lying.
He stood in the hallway for a moment, trying to compose himself. Alfonso gave Ariadne his bedroom. It was a familiar space, a place he had slept alone in since childhood, a place he could not remember.
In that familiar hallway, in that familiar space, Alfonso closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall. Thick tears fell.
He sent away his first child, a child he could not protect.
Although he pretended not to care in front of Ariadne, it was the fruit of their love that had never been born.
'I should have done better...'
If he had followed her immediately when he heard that Ariadne had entered the Palazzo Carlo, if he had not taken her for granted, if he had not sent her alone to Isabella, would it have been all right?
Or, if he had negotiated with his father in advance to secure Ariadne the status of a legitimate Princess, if he had brought Rubina down and given Ariadne the management of Palazzo Carlo, wouldn't Countess Contarini have even dared to attack?
Self-reproach came rushing in like a river.
Of course, it wasn't all sadness. There was definitely anger, too. The rage he unleashed like a tidal wave toward Isabella is a prime example.
But more than the anger he felt toward those who had harmed his unborn child, the sadness he felt for the child's passing away before he could even come into this world was greater. His sledgehammer strike against Isabella felt momentarily refreshing, but then a sense of futility followed. This emptiness only grew with each passing moment. Seeing someone's blood wouldn't bring his dead child back to life. Only the blood on his hands left a gritty, putrid stench.
Sir Manfredi quietly bowed his head. He was in the same space as him, yet he didn't make a sound.
But Cardinal de Mare, who had just come into contact with Alfonso in the hallway on his way in to see his daughter, was not accustomed to such consideration.
“Ahem!”
There was a cough. Prince Alfonso, recognizing it as his father-in-law's voice, raised his head. His eyes were tear-soaked, a grayish-blue. He had no power to hide them. His handsome, sun-kissed features were paler than usual.
The Cardinal, wearing the clothes of a layman, came in staggering and tapped Alfonso on the back.
“The Prince has suffered a lot.”
And he began to walk inward again, not even looking back. He offered no words of comfort. Beyond that, the Cardinal had nothing else to say.
The second son-in-law beat his eldest daughter for the sake of his younger daughter. It wasn't just any beating; it was so severe that people started gossiping that she might have developed a disability.
Would he even question his second son-in-law right here and now about why he beat his first daughter? Not only his eldest daughter, but his second daughter's was at stake for him. It's unlikely, but what if he pushes his second son-in-law for his eldest daughter's sake and he ends up harassing his younger daughter?
Moreover, Prince Alfonso had not yet requested further disciplinary action against Isabella. If she had been accused of royal murder, the situation could have escalated.
'If you can get away with taking a few hits, that's actually a cheaper way to stop it.'
Cardinal de Mare couldn't let go of his eldest daughter. No matter how grave her wrongdoing, no, even if she came to kill him with her own hands, he couldn't simply treat Isabella as an enemy and cut her off.
That was the bond between parent and child. No one had given it to him, but it was a flawed pearl he had created for nearly sixty years, huddled like a wounded oyster.
'It's all my fault, it's all my fault...'
And above all, he couldn't rebuke Alfonso for acting to protect Ariadne, because he knew why Ariadne had gone to see Isabella.
'What did this worthless father say...'
Of course, Cardinal de Mare couldn't know the subtle and complex truth behind Ariadne's true feelings. But he could trace it back to the superficial aspect of her second daughter's anger, which had exploded on his behalf.
'What could this worthless father do, sacrificing the most precious thing a woman could have...'
The second daughter, already in a precarious position, was a woman of few means. Even if she had children, public opinion would be wary of divorcing the Prince and bringing in a new Princess from the royal family, and his son-in-law would be powerless to act.
His nose felt tingly. Love should be a downward love. Ariadne shouldn't be protecting him; he should be protecting Ariadne. Every time his body ached and his vision faded, he wanted to cry out, in a weak voice, for her to take care of him, to be filial, but Simon de Mare steeled his will not to let that happen.
The Cardinal decided to take matters into his own hands. He would not ask Ariadne to rescue Isabella.
Knock knock.
Ariadne was startled by a knock on the door. It must have been Cardinal de Mare coming in.
Just as she had been reluctant to face Alfonso, she also had no desire to face Cardinal de Mare. But it wasn't quite the same.
In Alfonso's case, she was afraid of a virtual rebuke, but in her relationship with the Cardinal, she was fighting against her own expectations.
She was afraid that she wouldn't hear the words she wanted, and she didn't even want to look at it because she thought she wouldn't like it if it wasn't just the right amount of sweetness she wanted.
“I wasn’t originally this weak.”
She repeated it out loud.
“I was a person who set one goal and ran towards it.”
A relentless runner, willing to burn herself to the ground, using even herself as a tool to achieve her goals. Instead, she's a gambler, grasping every objective for herself. Perhaps that's why she was so tired.
The door opened quietly, and her father came in.
“...Hey.”
Ariadne took a deep breath. And then something completely different from what she had expected came out of his mouth.
“Have you been looking for your sister?”
The words were so cold and unbelievable that it was hard to believe they came from her own mouth. Ariadne was startled.
The Cardinal smiled awkwardly. He shook his head.
“Why won’t you meet me?”
"Sorry."
Cardinal de Mare said weakly.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
He thought for a moment and then spoke.
“It’s gotten really chilly outside. Everyone’s wearing cloaks...”
There was no daily life to share between this woman and her husband. It wasn't like that in the first place. Nor were there any childhood memories to reminisce about. Ariadne's lips pursed into a single line.
“Isn’t it cold in the palace? It’s considerably colder than at home.”
“Is that all you have to say to me?”
“...I’m sorry.”
It was a sudden turn of events. Ariadne stared at her father, her eyes wide.
“Father, I’m sorry...”
Cardinal de Mare spoke slowly to the surprised Ariadne.
“I heard you lost your child.”
The slow pace of his speech was purely due to his struggle to find the words, a rare occurrence for a Cardinal known for his eloquence.
“I can’t even imagine how much sorrow that must have caused a young mother.”
He remained silent for a moment, then finally opened his mouth.
“They said that this happened because you were trying to help me... I really am a useless grandfather, a useless father, and I can’t possibly hold my head up in front of you...”
Tears welled up in Ariadne's eyes, but she didn't even know why she was crying.
“Father, why are you like this?”
The Cardinal suddenly said.
“I promise.”
He said something Ariadne had never expected.
“I won’t bring up your sister in front of you.”
The Cardinal reaffirmed his resolve.
“I would never bother you with something like that.”
Ariadne actually wanted more than that. She wanted him to cut Isabella off completely, to tell her that the woman who harmed his grandson wasn't even his daughter, and that they could hold hands and gaze down at the burning corpses in the square. That was her honest intention. She wanted it all.
But even if she couldn't fully accept it in her heart, she knew in her head that Cardinal de Mare couldn't do that. Moreover, the thought of her father, who had always stood high above her and never looked back, apologizing to her, his daughter, was overwhelming and overwhelming. Ariadne was in no position to say anything else.
The old Cardinal embraced his daughter. He had nothing more to say. He simply wept silently. Finally, the daughter embraced her father.
After Cardinal de Mare left, Sir Bernardino came in and gave Ariadne consolation gifts from all walks of life.
"This is a fruit juice sent by the Countess of Marquez, said to be good for the body. This is 300 pieces of pure cotton from Kumaat, sent by the Unaisola merchant representative."
Lord Dino was the first to enter and began reciting the gifts that had been brought into the palace. Pure cotton was often used for body care.
Ariadne was once again impressed by CEO Caruso's attention to detail, quick response, and generous distribution. Three hundred rolls of pure cotton would be enough to replace the entire bed linen in the Prince's palace. The Kumaat cotton, if priced correctly, would have cost over 200 ducats.
The gift list doesn't end there.
“The Grand Duchess Rubina also offered her condolences, as did the Duke Bianca of Taranto, Princess Julia Helena, the Marquis Baldessar, the Marquis Montefeltro, the Marquis Cibo, and Count Rinaldi...”
This list was a bit late, and items that had not found a place in the Prince's inner chambers had been temporarily stored in the warehouse. This one was neatly organized by rank.
The second list contained a mix of gifts from close friends and gifts expressing political views. Among them, there were likely gifts from both Isabella and Ariadne. Ariadne shook her head, reluctant to think too deeply.
“Besides, it is said that the streets are overflowing with people praying for the Princess’s speedy recovery.”
“Yes? The Princess?”
Ariadne asked about the part that had been bothering her since earlier.
“If it’s the Princess... Did His Majesty the King issue an edict or something while I was down?”
He stood in the hallway for a moment, trying to compose himself. Alfonso gave Ariadne his bedroom. It was a familiar space, a place he had slept alone in since childhood, a place he could not remember.
In that familiar hallway, in that familiar space, Alfonso closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall. Thick tears fell.
He sent away his first child, a child he could not protect.
Although he pretended not to care in front of Ariadne, it was the fruit of their love that had never been born.
'I should have done better...'
If he had followed her immediately when he heard that Ariadne had entered the Palazzo Carlo, if he had not taken her for granted, if he had not sent her alone to Isabella, would it have been all right?
Or, if he had negotiated with his father in advance to secure Ariadne the status of a legitimate Princess, if he had brought Rubina down and given Ariadne the management of Palazzo Carlo, wouldn't Countess Contarini have even dared to attack?
Self-reproach came rushing in like a river.
Of course, it wasn't all sadness. There was definitely anger, too. The rage he unleashed like a tidal wave toward Isabella is a prime example.
But more than the anger he felt toward those who had harmed his unborn child, the sadness he felt for the child's passing away before he could even come into this world was greater. His sledgehammer strike against Isabella felt momentarily refreshing, but then a sense of futility followed. This emptiness only grew with each passing moment. Seeing someone's blood wouldn't bring his dead child back to life. Only the blood on his hands left a gritty, putrid stench.
Sir Manfredi quietly bowed his head. He was in the same space as him, yet he didn't make a sound.
But Cardinal de Mare, who had just come into contact with Alfonso in the hallway on his way in to see his daughter, was not accustomed to such consideration.
“Ahem!”
There was a cough. Prince Alfonso, recognizing it as his father-in-law's voice, raised his head. His eyes were tear-soaked, a grayish-blue. He had no power to hide them. His handsome, sun-kissed features were paler than usual.
The Cardinal, wearing the clothes of a layman, came in staggering and tapped Alfonso on the back.
“The Prince has suffered a lot.”
And he began to walk inward again, not even looking back. He offered no words of comfort. Beyond that, the Cardinal had nothing else to say.
The second son-in-law beat his eldest daughter for the sake of his younger daughter. It wasn't just any beating; it was so severe that people started gossiping that she might have developed a disability.
Would he even question his second son-in-law right here and now about why he beat his first daughter? Not only his eldest daughter, but his second daughter's was at stake for him. It's unlikely, but what if he pushes his second son-in-law for his eldest daughter's sake and he ends up harassing his younger daughter?
Moreover, Prince Alfonso had not yet requested further disciplinary action against Isabella. If she had been accused of royal murder, the situation could have escalated.
'If you can get away with taking a few hits, that's actually a cheaper way to stop it.'
Cardinal de Mare couldn't let go of his eldest daughter. No matter how grave her wrongdoing, no, even if she came to kill him with her own hands, he couldn't simply treat Isabella as an enemy and cut her off.
That was the bond between parent and child. No one had given it to him, but it was a flawed pearl he had created for nearly sixty years, huddled like a wounded oyster.
'It's all my fault, it's all my fault...'
And above all, he couldn't rebuke Alfonso for acting to protect Ariadne, because he knew why Ariadne had gone to see Isabella.
'What did this worthless father say...'
Of course, Cardinal de Mare couldn't know the subtle and complex truth behind Ariadne's true feelings. But he could trace it back to the superficial aspect of her second daughter's anger, which had exploded on his behalf.
'What could this worthless father do, sacrificing the most precious thing a woman could have...'
The second daughter, already in a precarious position, was a woman of few means. Even if she had children, public opinion would be wary of divorcing the Prince and bringing in a new Princess from the royal family, and his son-in-law would be powerless to act.
His nose felt tingly. Love should be a downward love. Ariadne shouldn't be protecting him; he should be protecting Ariadne. Every time his body ached and his vision faded, he wanted to cry out, in a weak voice, for her to take care of him, to be filial, but Simon de Mare steeled his will not to let that happen.
The Cardinal decided to take matters into his own hands. He would not ask Ariadne to rescue Isabella.
***
Knock knock.
Ariadne was startled by a knock on the door. It must have been Cardinal de Mare coming in.
Just as she had been reluctant to face Alfonso, she also had no desire to face Cardinal de Mare. But it wasn't quite the same.
In Alfonso's case, she was afraid of a virtual rebuke, but in her relationship with the Cardinal, she was fighting against her own expectations.
She was afraid that she wouldn't hear the words she wanted, and she didn't even want to look at it because she thought she wouldn't like it if it wasn't just the right amount of sweetness she wanted.
“I wasn’t originally this weak.”
She repeated it out loud.
“I was a person who set one goal and ran towards it.”
A relentless runner, willing to burn herself to the ground, using even herself as a tool to achieve her goals. Instead, she's a gambler, grasping every objective for herself. Perhaps that's why she was so tired.
The door opened quietly, and her father came in.
“...Hey.”
Ariadne took a deep breath. And then something completely different from what she had expected came out of his mouth.
“Have you been looking for your sister?”
The words were so cold and unbelievable that it was hard to believe they came from her own mouth. Ariadne was startled.
The Cardinal smiled awkwardly. He shook his head.
“Why won’t you meet me?”
"Sorry."
Cardinal de Mare said weakly.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
He thought for a moment and then spoke.
“It’s gotten really chilly outside. Everyone’s wearing cloaks...”
There was no daily life to share between this woman and her husband. It wasn't like that in the first place. Nor were there any childhood memories to reminisce about. Ariadne's lips pursed into a single line.
“Isn’t it cold in the palace? It’s considerably colder than at home.”
“Is that all you have to say to me?”
“...I’m sorry.”
It was a sudden turn of events. Ariadne stared at her father, her eyes wide.
“Father, I’m sorry...”
Cardinal de Mare spoke slowly to the surprised Ariadne.
“I heard you lost your child.”
The slow pace of his speech was purely due to his struggle to find the words, a rare occurrence for a Cardinal known for his eloquence.
“I can’t even imagine how much sorrow that must have caused a young mother.”
He remained silent for a moment, then finally opened his mouth.
“They said that this happened because you were trying to help me... I really am a useless grandfather, a useless father, and I can’t possibly hold my head up in front of you...”
Tears welled up in Ariadne's eyes, but she didn't even know why she was crying.
“Father, why are you like this?”
The Cardinal suddenly said.
“I promise.”
He said something Ariadne had never expected.
“I won’t bring up your sister in front of you.”
The Cardinal reaffirmed his resolve.
“I would never bother you with something like that.”
Ariadne actually wanted more than that. She wanted him to cut Isabella off completely, to tell her that the woman who harmed his grandson wasn't even his daughter, and that they could hold hands and gaze down at the burning corpses in the square. That was her honest intention. She wanted it all.
But even if she couldn't fully accept it in her heart, she knew in her head that Cardinal de Mare couldn't do that. Moreover, the thought of her father, who had always stood high above her and never looked back, apologizing to her, his daughter, was overwhelming and overwhelming. Ariadne was in no position to say anything else.
The old Cardinal embraced his daughter. He had nothing more to say. He simply wept silently. Finally, the daughter embraced her father.
***
After Cardinal de Mare left, Sir Bernardino came in and gave Ariadne consolation gifts from all walks of life.
"This is a fruit juice sent by the Countess of Marquez, said to be good for the body. This is 300 pieces of pure cotton from Kumaat, sent by the Unaisola merchant representative."
Lord Dino was the first to enter and began reciting the gifts that had been brought into the palace. Pure cotton was often used for body care.
Ariadne was once again impressed by CEO Caruso's attention to detail, quick response, and generous distribution. Three hundred rolls of pure cotton would be enough to replace the entire bed linen in the Prince's palace. The Kumaat cotton, if priced correctly, would have cost over 200 ducats.
The gift list doesn't end there.
“The Grand Duchess Rubina also offered her condolences, as did the Duke Bianca of Taranto, Princess Julia Helena, the Marquis Baldessar, the Marquis Montefeltro, the Marquis Cibo, and Count Rinaldi...”
This list was a bit late, and items that had not found a place in the Prince's inner chambers had been temporarily stored in the warehouse. This one was neatly organized by rank.
The second list contained a mix of gifts from close friends and gifts expressing political views. Among them, there were likely gifts from both Isabella and Ariadne. Ariadne shook her head, reluctant to think too deeply.
“Besides, it is said that the streets are overflowing with people praying for the Princess’s speedy recovery.”
“Yes? The Princess?”
Ariadne asked about the part that had been bothering her since earlier.
“If it’s the Princess... Did His Majesty the King issue an edict or something while I was down?”
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