Chapter 101

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: The Villain's Return
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*Clang!* Beyond the heavy, closed oak door of the drawing room, the sound of the front door opening echoed loudly. People were coming in. Startled, Ariadne and Alfonso looked at each other.

“Is anyone there?”

A man’s boisterous voice could be heard, growing closer.

“I should go out and see. You should probably head back.”

Alfonso nodded at Ariadne’s words. It would cause a considerable stir if the prince were discovered in San Carlo. Even more so if he were found in the residence of Cardinal de Mare.

“You’re not going straight back to Taranto, are you?”

The prince had ridden for three days and nights to reach San Carlo. Worried that he would immediately embark on another long journey, Ariadne looked at him with tender concern. But Alfonso smiled, reassuring her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go to my palace in Palazzo Carlo, take care of a few things, and then head back. …But I do have to leave San Carlo by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

He pulled Ariadne into a tight embrace, filled with regret, before reluctantly letting her go.

“Ari, it will be difficult to see each other again before the entire court returns to San Carlo for the Spring Festival at the end of March. Can you wait patiently until then?”

Ariadne nodded vigorously. Her life had been nothing but a series of hardships. She had endured all those years; a month or two was nothing. As long as there was hope, she could endure any situation.

“Eat well.”

He added another word.

“I’ll be checking when I get back.”

Ariadne glared at Alfonso.

“How are you going to check?”

Pouting, she stared at him and continued her interrogation.

“You’re not thinking of some lewd way to check, are you?”

“No! What do you take me for!”

Alfonso vehemently denied it, but the faint blush that crept up his face suggested he wasn't entirely innocent. Just as Ariadne was about to smile, a loud *thump, thump* came from the great hall. Her expression hardened.

“Alfonso, this way.”

Ariadne grabbed the sleeve of Alfonso, who had pulled his winter hood low, and led him out the back door connected to the kitchen. Like a nimble squirrel, she guided him to one of the storerooms behind the kitchen and pulled out a large ring of keys from her cloak pocket. The mistress’s keys. Ariadne used one to unlock a door in the storeroom that led outside.

“This way leads to the rear garden. Follow the wall you see, and you’ll find a side gate. It’s always unlocked at this time.”

Having said that, Ariadne paused to think. Apart from the rising and setting of the sun, was there anything in the world that always happened without fail?

“No. Take this.”

She found a medium-sized key on the ring, removed it, and handed it to Alfonso.

“If it’s locked, use this to open it. I have a spare, so you can take it.”

Ariadne opened the storeroom door and hurried Alfonso along.

“Now, quickly.”

Alfonso turned his head, looking at her with lingering regret, then leaned in and gave her one last kiss on the lips. It was brief, but dripping with reluctance. He kissed her and immediately left the storeroom. Ariadne stared blankly at his retreating back, then touched her own lips. - *Slam!* The sound of the drawing room door connected to the great hall being thrown open echoed. Thinking Ippolito might have returned, Ariadne hurried to the great hall to greet the guest. But standing there was a middle-aged man she had never seen before.

“Who might you be…”

“I’ve come to see my nephew off on his final journey, do I really have to state my name? Who are you, young lady? Where is Lucrezia?”

He was undoubtedly from the de Rossi family. It wasn’t just what he said; his ignorant and arrogant attitude was just like Zanobi and Lucrezia’s. Ariadne introduced herself. A sense of foreboding made her reluctant to reveal her name, but as a mourner receiving guests, she had no choice but to reveal her identity.

“I am Ariadne de Mare, second daughter of His Eminence, Cardinal de Mare. My mother is unwell and resting at the moment. Shall I inform her that a guest has arrived?”

“Ah, so it’s you?”

Upon hearing Ariadne’s introduction, the middle-aged man, far from speaking formally or correcting his attitude toward the Cardinal’s daughter, looked her up and down with extreme hostility. It was easy to guess what Lucrezia had written about Ariadne in her letters home. But it seemed that wasn’t the only reason the man was angry with her.

“So you’re the ill-mannered wench who framed our poor Zanobi! A worthless foundling! I am Stefano, Zanobi’s father!”

Ariadne felt a surge of irritation and had much to say, but luckily for Stefano de Rossi, she was more lenient than usual today for various reasons. Above all, Ariadne didn’t want to raise her voice and fight during Arabella’s final farewell. She raised her voice and called for a servant.

“Is anyone there!”

The head steward, who should have been attending to guests, came running from beyond the hall, out of breath. He must have been slacking off somewhere. At the commotion, Giuseppe, the former coachman and now head of household security, also rushed over.

“Escort the guest to the first-floor reception room, and inform Lady Lucrezia that her older brother has arrived.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The head steward tried to guide Stefano inside, but Stefano stood his ground and shouted at Ariadne.

“You! You ruined my son, who had a bright future ahead of him! My boy would never do such a thing!”

When Ariadne, who didn't want to fight, turned to go inside, he practically screamed.

“Are you ignoring me now? Are the high and mighty de Mares too good to treat their in-laws with respect?”

“Uncle.”

At the word ‘uncle,’ Stefano de Rossi’s expression softened slightly. *So, she does acknowledge me as an elder?*

“This is a place to pray for the peaceful repose of the deceased. Today, rather than discussing other matters, please pray that poor Arabella’s soul may find peace.”

Despite Ariadne’s gesture of compromise, Stefano de Rossi, ever the father of Zanobi, pushed for more, knowing no bounds. Her lack of subservience irked him.

“Are you lecturing your elder now? What kind of upbringing is this! This won’t do, fetch me a rod at once. Today, I’ll beat some manners into you and get justice for Zanobi’s wrongful accusation!”

Giuseppe and the head steward stared in disbelief as Stefano raged, demanding a rod. But Stefano was, after all, a relative of the family. The two men couldn’t touch him without Ariadne’s order. Ariadne looked at him coldly.

“‘Uncle,’ that matter was confirmed by none other than His Majesty, the wise King Leo III himself, who established that Zanobi de Rossi did indeed attack me, his cousin.”

She spoke, half-sincerely.

“I’m saying this for your own good, ‘Uncle.’ If you go around claiming Zanobi was framed, you could be arrested for insulting the King. So please, I hope you refrain from such remarks.”

“You rotten wench…!”

However, Ariadne’s sincerity tended to be lost on men who were older but of lower status than her. Enraged, Stefano strode forward to threaten her. But the burly Giuseppe blocked his path.

“This will not end well for you.”

He warned Stefano in a menacing tone.

“If you want to be treated like a guest, then act like one.”

Blocked by a young man in his twenties, his face turned crimson with shame. But unlike his bravado in front of Ariadne, Stefano immediately backed down before the well-built man.

“Show him to the reception room.”

Seeing Stefano become as meek as a little rabbit, Ariadne clicked her tongue, turned, and left that disgrace of the de Rossi family behind. She planned to get rid of Lucrezia soon enough. Once Lucrezia was gone, she would no longer have to witness the de Rossi relatives running rampant in the de Mare mansion.

***

Another disgrace, not a de Rossi by name but one who carried their blood thick in his veins, arrived at the funeral even later than the real de Rossi. It was Ippolito. Ippolito, who should have been acting as a chief mourner, arrived at the de Mare mansion on the late afternoon of the 13th, the day before the burial and memorial mass. He was worse than a guest. To make matters worse, it was his mistress who announced his return.

“Is anyone there?”

Maletta, dressed in black ‘mourning clothes,’ strode triumphantly through the front door. The heavy satin winter dress she wore was black, but every other aspect of it was inappropriate for mourning attire meant to show respect from a subordinate to a superior. The glossy black dress was excessively lavish, and its absurdly low neckline was barely covered with black mesh in a token gesture of modesty. On top of that, Maletta was draped in a pearl necklace that looked to be at least two piedi (about 86cm) long. In an instant, the eyes of everyone on the first floor were fixed on Maletta.

“Mother! I’ve arrived!”

Behind her, the shameless Ippolito followed, wearing a luxurious white muskrat fur over an outer coat of an indistinguishable dark crimson or black color. It was an entrance so shocking that even Lucrezia, who doted on her son no matter what, couldn't help but frown. Lucrezia quickly glanced around and scolded her son.

“Have you lost your mind! What are you wearing? Take off that white fur, now!”

Fortunately, the only people in the great hall at that moment were Lucrezia and Stefano. The servants were all in the middle of a shift change, Cardinal de Mare had gone up to his room complaining of a headache, and Ariadne had gone out to prepare for the luncheon that would be served at the house for relatives after the next day’s memorial mass. Lucrezia continued to reprimand her son.

“Your sister died, shouldn’t you have dropped everything and rushed back here! How can you call yourself the eldest son and older brother of this house?”

Stefano clicked his tongue beside her, chiding Lucrezia.

“Lucrezia. You’ve truly failed at raising your children. There’s no love between them. Is it because they have different—?”

Lucrezia’s face turned scarlet, and she kicked Stefano in the back of the knee with her heel.

“Ouch!”

He got angry at being hit by his younger sister.

“Did I say something untrue?”

“Shut up!”

Lucrezia glanced around, but fortunately, the couple, Ippolito and Maletta, seemed not to have heard as they were busy taking off their coats after coming in from the cold. Ippolito was loudly complaining that no one had appeared immediately to attend to him.

“Where’s the head steward! Niccolo! Niccolo!”

Maletta, startled to see her nemesis, Lady Lucrezia, as the first person she encountered upon entering the house, was cautiously hiding behind Ippolito. Taking advantage of their distraction, Lucrezia hissed at her second older brother through gritted teeth.

“Brother. Keep your mouth shut while you’re here. Don’t you know who the de Rossis depend on for their livelihood? Are you trying to get us all killed?”

“It’s a purse that hasn’t been paying out much lately.”

“Lower your voice!”

Lucrezia glared daggers at her brother while keeping a sidelong glance on her son and the detestable maid beside him.

“If you run your mouth, I’ll kill you.”

Sensing Lucrezia’s serious demeanor, Stefano raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Lucrezia, considering the matter settled for now, urged her son on.

“You, go upstairs and change your clothes at once! After you’ve changed, go and greet your father immediately!”

“Yes, yes, I got it, Mother. Aren’t you happy to see your son after so long?”

Watching Ippolito grumble as he went upstairs, Lucrezia felt relieved. His lack of reaction meant they hadn't heard anything. But contrary to Lucrezia’s belief, Maletta, though she bowed her head and followed Ippolito, was lost in thought.

*‘Different—what? What did I just hear?’*