Chapter 10

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: First Meeting with the Prince
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In her past life, she had heard that Maletta’s younger sister starved to death at the Rambouillet Almshouse. Ariadne intended to show Maletta exactly what that meant. *If you don’t listen to me, I’ll leave you here. You’ll suffer the same fate as your sister.*

“I would like to go where the sick and suffering are. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Well… there is bathing the sick, but…”

“I will do that, then.”

***

There was a reason the supervisor had trailed off. “Bathing the sick” was a euphemism; the reality was gruesome. In a long, isolated corridor, patients with no hope of recovery lay packed together on filthy straw. The shadow of death loomed heavily over their gaunt, skeletal bodies. There were no proper facilities, supplies, or staff to care for them. Even considering that the almshouse was run solely on the Queen’s budget and was thus poorly funded, the scene was so horrific that one could only conclude it was a deliberate façade, designed to starve the poor to death.

‘So this is why the supervisor didn’t want to send me here.’

While Ariadne was lost in calm contemplation, Maletta’s face had turned deathly pale. It had only been two years since Isabella had rescued her from this chaotic place. The memories of hunger, cold, and the fear of death came rushing back, as vivid as ever. Maletta frantically scanned her surroundings, searching for a patient with red hair. *What should I do if I find the sister I abandoned two years ago?*

Ariadne, too, was searching for a red-haired patient.

‘Is that her?’

Maletta was startled as Ariadne began to approach a small girl among the sick.

“My lady, wait…!”

Thinking they had to leave before she came face-to-face with her sister, a terrified Maletta grabbed Ariadne’s wrist. Her bare hand touched Ariadne’s exposed skin.

A jolt.

***

A wave of intense dizziness washed over her, and for a moment, she thought she saw flashing lightning and hazy clouds pass through her mind. Then, something ‘appeared’ in Ariadne's head.

— ‘I can only take one of you. Which one should I choose?’

It was Isabella. She was standing outside the Rambouillet Almshouse, in the area where the healthier paupers were housed. Before her stood a younger, more disheveled Maletta, and beside her, a scrawny, freckled girl with the same red hair.

— ‘Which of you is smarter? Which one works harder?’

The skinny girl pleaded with Isabella.

— ‘My lady, my sister and I have grown up together. We will work hard, so please, take us both!’

Isabella’s expression was indifferent.

— ‘I told you, there’s only one spot. Don’t tell me why I should take you both. Tell me why I should choose *you*.’

The young Maletta pushed the skinny girl aside and knelt before Isabella. Prostrating herself on the ground, her hands clasped together, Maletta cried out desperately.

— ‘My noble lady! Sancha has sticky fingers and an incurable cough!’

Sancha looked back at Maletta, horrified. Maletta clenched her teeth and refused to look at her sister.

— ‘If you can only take one, it must be me! She’s too young to be of any help, and she’s weak and frail like a little mouse! I will work like an ox! Please, take me with you, my lady!’

Isabella’s eyes glinted with interest.

— ‘You have ambition, don’t you?’

— ‘I will work my hardest, my lady!’

— ‘Very well. I’ll take you.’

Isabella slowly turned and, with Maletta in tow, began to leave the almshouse grounds. Truly horrified that Maletta was leaving her behind, Sancha shrieked as if her life depended on it.

— ‘Sister! Sister!’

Maletta’s urgent, placating voice followed.

— ‘Shh! Be quiet! I’ll send you money once I start getting paid at the new house! I’ll save up and get you out of this almshouse. If one of us makes it, we all will. Do you understand? Be good and wait for me!’

***

“My lady? My lady?”

Startled, Maletta was shaking Ariadne’s shoulder. Annoyed that Maletta had touched her without permission, Ariadne slapped her hand away. Maletta awkwardly lowered her hand and asked again.

“My lady, are you all right? You suddenly froze. You gave me a scare.”

“How long was I like that?”

“It was very brief. Maybe two or three seconds?”

“Then it’s fine.”

*What was that I saw? A memory? Was it real or not?* It was time to find out. Feigning ignorance, Ariadne walked past Maletta and approached the red-haired girl lying deathly still among the paupers. She knelt beside her. Gently wiping the girl’s forehead with a damp cloth, Ariadne asked softly.

“How are you feeling?”

The face she turned over was that of a child, no older than twelve or thirteen. At an age when her cheeks should have been full of baby fat, they were hollow and gaunt. The freckled girl opened her pale green eyes and looked back and forth between Ariadne and Maletta.

“Has your family sent you any help since you came to the Rambouillet Almshouse?”

The freckled girl shook her head desperately. Maletta’s expression grew darker.

“Do you have an incurable cough?”

The girl’s headshake became even more frantic. Maletta’s face was now as pale as if she had just seen the grim reaper.

“Maletta? Do you know this child?”

“Well… that is…”

Having barely summoned the strength to shake her head, the freckled girl now shot a look of immense hatred and resentment at the flustered Maletta before mustering her last bit of energy to grab Ariadne’s sleeve.

“Save… me. Please, save me, my lady…!”

***

“Even for the Cardinal’s daughter, special treatment is out of the question.”

The supervisor shook his head. That was his response when she asked him to save the freckled girl, Sancha. Ariadne was the daughter of the second most powerful man in San Carlo, but it was nothing more than a hollow title. Her powerful father did not love her, and beyond the minimum investment required to use her as a tool, he paid her no mind. She had no money or power of her own. Without money, she couldn’t even call a doctor. She had returned from the brink of death, yet she was still a bird in a cage, unable to make a single choice for herself.

“I understand. In that case, I will give my portion of food for the day to that girl.”

Ariadne’s portion consisted of half a loaf of dry bread and some clean water. She had Maletta soak the bread in boiling water to make a thin gruel and fed it to Sancha. It was all she could do. Ariadne felt a grim sense of powerlessness. But Sancha, who had apparently just been starving, began to recover after only a day or two of meager food, like a stray kitten gaining a healthy sheen to its fur.

“Maletta. Come here.”

While staying in the nuns’ quarters, Ariadne thought again and again about the ‘vision.’ The fact that her questions to Sancha, based on what she had seen, had all been accurate, combined with Maletta’s terrified reaction, suggested that the ‘vision’ showed her events that had actually happened in the past.

“Grab my wrist again, like before.”

Maletta hesitated before taking Ariadne’s wrist once more, but this time, nothing happened. It seemed that skin-to-skin contact did not always trigger a vision.

***

After giving her food to Sancha, Ariadne quickly grew gaunt. When she insisted on continuing to care for Sancha, the supervisor sent her back to the food distribution line. He was likely afraid that if he let the compassionate noble lady continue bathing the sick in the great hall, she would become attached to another pitiful patient.

‘Ah, I’m hungry.’

Standing in line, Ariadne swallowed hard as she looked at the soup being served. On any other day, she wouldn’t have touched the watery broth, but now, even the sheen of oil on its surface looked incredibly tempting. But the soup was all accounted for, and the almshouse residents were very serious about their food. Having missed the morning meal without so much as a taste, Ariadne hadn’t eaten since the evening two days prior. She leaned against a tree in the almshouse courtyard, trying to forget her gnawing hunger. Just then, an apple appeared before her eyes.

‘Who?’

She looked up at the owner of the hand and saw a handsome boy with dazzling blond hair and delicate, milky-white features. He was dressed in the satin attire of the court and was holding out the apple.

“Want it?”

It was Prince Alfonso. He was much younger than the last time she remembered seeing him, like a tender willow branch still in the midst of growing. It felt unreal. He was already dead, killed by Cesare’s hand. Ariadne reached out and took the apple he offered. The fingertips of the hand holding the apple touched hers, and as she felt its warmth, a shiver ran through her. The past had truly returned. Her sins were alive and moving before her, not yet committed.

“You looked hungry…”

He smiled, looking slightly shy. A row of neat white teeth showed between his large lips. Though Ariadne knew the boy before her was the prince, she answered him casually. It was the instinct of a woman who had been through it all and was now nearly thirty.

“Thank you.”

She wiped the apple on her sleeve and took a large bite. *Crunch!* The apple was divine. Having starved for three days, the sweetness on her tongue was irresistible, prince or no prince. The juice was so refreshing. One bite followed another, and in an instant, only the core remained. It was only then that Ariadne remembered she was in the presence of the prince. Flustered, she grew shy and quickly made an excuse.

“I’ve been starving for three days. Thanks to you, I’ve had something to eat.”

She had stressed the ‘three days’ to cover her embarrassment, but Prince Alfonso, whether he understood or not, simply gazed at her with kind eyes.

“I heard you were giving your food to a sick child.”

“Ah… It just sort of happened.”

“I think it’s amazing. I don’t think I could give up my food.”

Ariadne smiled in spite of herself. She didn’t realize it, but it was a smile as bright as a pear blossom.

“Me neither.”

For some reason, she felt embarrassed to act virtuous in front of Prince Alfonso. She wasn’t bold enough to feign delicacy in front of the man she had killed.

“I only gave it away because the almshouse bread is terrible. If it had been something delicious, I wouldn’t have.”

Instead, she put on a tough front. Prince Alfonso looked a little surprised and asked her.

“The almshouse bread is terrible?”

“It’s completely dry. There’s no milk or butter in it at all. It just tastes like flour and salt.”

“I see…”

Prince Alfonso smiled bitterly. The almshouse staff probably wasn’t serving him the real almshouse food. She didn’t let on that she knew he was a prince, and a brief silence fell. It wasn’t exactly the right atmosphere to apologize for having killed him. Fortunately, the prince asked another question.

“How long will you be here?”

“Until tomorrow.”

If Isabella hadn’t been so spiteful, Ariadne would have returned home yesterday, on the third day. She never would have met Prince Alfonso today. The prince asked gently.

“Are you going to keep giving away your food until then?”

“Well, I was planning to eat my own share starting today, but since someone gave me an apple, I think I can last two more days.”

Ariadne grinned. Prince Alfonso frowned slightly, as if considering something, then pulled a handkerchief-wrapped bundle of cookies from his pocket and held it out.

“I wish it were something more substantial… but this is all I have.”

Ariadne accepted the cookies. In the corner of the handkerchief, ‘AFC’ was embroidered in small gold thread. The initials for Alfonso de Carlo.

“I’ll enjoy them. Thank you.”

As he watched the tall, skinny girl take the food, handkerchief and all, the golden-haired boy asked a question. The afternoon sun, beginning its descent from its peak, cast a brilliant light upon the boy and girl.

“What’s your name?”

“Ariadne. Ariadne de Mare.”