Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 120

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: What Do You Want From Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The letter, she was told, had been tossed to the guards at the front gate by an unidentified messenger. Even the servant did not know who had sent it. Isabella sat in the drawing room, now hers alone, and tore open the envelope.

*Rustle.*

Inside was not a letter, but a single slip of paper more akin to a memo. The message was exceedingly short, written in a clumsy scrawl, deliberately penned with the left hand to disguise the penmanship.

“What do you want from me.”

A smile touched Isabella’s lips.

‘At this point, the paper itself is practically screaming the sender’s name.’

Isabella had worried she might not receive a reply, but she had never expected one this honest. A letter so fraught with anxiety—it was a jackpot. The sender was now no different from a butterfly caught in her web. She picked up a piece of stationery and, in a cheerful mood, began to write her response.

“To my dearest Clemente, Isabella truly wants for nothing. If my sacrifice brings you happiness, that is enough for me. However, Isabella has found herself in a bit of a predicament lately. Through no fault of my own, my standing in society has become quite precarious. Please, just be my friend. Surely you can do that much for me. How about we share afternoon tea soon? Do send an invitation. - Sincerely, Isabella de Mare.”

Isabella sealed the envelope and handed it to the footman in charge of mail.

“Send this to the House of Bartolini. The recipient is the Countess Bartolini.”

***

The social circles of San Carlo were a flurry of intense speculation, with everyone trying to figure out who was partnering with whom for the royal ball and who their peers were taking. With the ball about two weeks away, it was time for a mid-term evaluation of the partnerships that had been formed.

- “What? Count Cesare was rejected by the second daughter of the de Mare family?”

- “If Miss de Mare rejected Count Cesare, who is she attending the ball with? …Could the rumors about Prince Alfonso be true?”

- “Don’t be ridiculous. Prince Alfonso is attending with Grand Duchess Lariesa. The palace already announced it with the program. It’s official.”

- “Oh, it’s not that. I heard she’s attending with Giulia de Valdesal’s older brother.”

- “Ah… the House of Valdesal does have a son. But she rejected Count Cesare for the young Marquis Valdesal? Does that even make sense?”

- “Why not? The Marquisate of Valdesal is a traditional noble house, and the title itself is higher than a count’s.”

- “But the County of de Como isn’t just any county, is it? The way His Majesty favors him, he’s bound to be granted something more soon enough.”

Amid the heated exchange, allies of the Marquisate of Valdesal helped steer public opinion.

- “Oh, everyone. It’s not like that. Miss Giulia de Valdesal specifically asked Miss de Mare to take her brother.”

- “I heard that too. The brother is shy about making his social debut, so she asked a friend. They say it’s nothing serious.”

The Marquisate of Valdesal was among the capital’s nobility most trusted by Leo III, and thanks to that, friendly figures and affiliated families came to their defense.

- “It’s just a matter of friendship with Miss Giulia. Don’t try to frame it as some kind of rivalry or romance.”

Some of those who vehemently argued that Ariadne and Raphael de Valdesal were not involved had ulterior motives. They were the families hoping to secure the Valdesal heir as a match for their own children.

- ‘I had my eye on him for my daughter! I can’t let him be snatched away right under my nose!’

- ‘It’s better he appears with the second de Mare daughter than with some other girl. If I’m going to be jealous of whoever gets the Valdesal heir, I’d rather he be with the object of everyone’s affection.’

- ‘After being pursued by Count Cesare and Prince Alfonso, would she really be interested in the young Marquis Valdesal?’

As the date of the ball drew nearer, the news that Ariadne de Mare had rejected Count Cesare’s invitation was by far the hottest topic in the city. The story was so widespread that it even reached Isabella, who now had very few channels to hear society gossip.

‘What? Ariadne rejected Count Cesare’s offer to be her escort?’

Isabella clutched the fabric of her dress.

‘Ariadne, that spoiled, ungrateful, wicked girl!’

A furious light flared in her eyes.

‘Why does everything come so easily to her?’

Truly, the world was unfair. Isabella had beauty, talent, and charm—all of it—but when she came to her senses, she had somehow been pushed to a lower priority than her cold, plain younger sister.

Considering her former prestige, Isabella’s current position in society was pathetic. She was even worse off than her brother, Ippolito.

“Miss Isabella, it has been a long time…”

On her desk lay only a single letter of the kind she used to receive in droves. It was from Sir Iacopo Attendolo, the man who had once gifted her a diamond ring as thanks for giving him directions.

‘To think that even Iacopo Attendolo is testing the waters… this is what I’ve been reduced to!’

Sir Attendolo’s letter was roundabout. It asked how she had been and, alluding to the ball’s date of March 17th, inquired about her schedule around the middle of March. He wanted to go to the ball with Isabella, but he didn’t want to suffer the humiliation of being rejected, so he had sent this pathetic excuse for a letter!

“Gutless bastard!”

Isabella slammed her hand on the desk in anger. But it was a patently unjust fury. Iacopo Attendolo had shown more courage than any other knight currently in San Carlo. Isabella was unable to see her own reputation objectively, to see how far it had fallen. Or perhaps she knew, deep down, but refused to admit it.

*Knock, knock.*

The one who knocked on the drawing room door was the mail footman.

“My lady. A letter has arrived for you.”

Isabella’s face, which had been clouded with gloom, instantly brightened. Maybe a more respectable gentleman had sent a partnership request!

“Which gentleman sent the letter?”

The footman nervously held out the envelope, watching Isabella’s expression.

“Well… it seems to be from a lady, not a gentleman…”

Hearing it was from a woman, Isabella’s mood soured instantly. *Letitia, probably. Useless and talks too much,* she muttered as she took the envelope. Adorned with silver foil, it was addressed as follows:

“For the personal attention of Miss Isabella de Mare. From the House of Bartolini.”

“Well, now. Why is this so grand?”

A smile appeared on Isabella’s lips. “From the House of Bartolini”… could it be that the letter was from the Count himself, not the Countess? Had he discovered his wife’s infidelity and wanted to hear the whole story from her?

If the Countess Bartolini had already been caught by her husband, Isabella had nothing to lose. As rumors of the Countess’s affair or divorce spread, the identity of Marquis Campa’s mistress would naturally come to light. The task of gathering people and spreading rumors would fall to Count Bartolini, the cuckolded husband. Isabella wouldn’t have to risk suspicion by dredging up the past herself. If that happened, she would finally be free of this wretched stigma.

But when she opened the envelope, she found an invitation not from the Count, but from the Countess.

“To Miss Isabella de Mare, It has been some time, yet you reached out first. If you are free on the morning of the 5th, would you care to meet? - Sincerely, Clemente de Bartolini.”

Well, this was good too. Isabella’s smile grew wider. The date the Countess proposed was only two days away. That was an unusually short notice for a tea invitation. Moreover, the time she suggested was not a conventional hour for receiving guests.

‘It seems she looked for an open time right after receiving my letter. This must have been the earliest slot she had available.’

The Countess Bartolini was undoubtedly on pins and needles.

‘Yes, she must be terrified of what I’m going to say. Better to get the beating over with, as they say.’

Isabella smiled and looked at the servant.

“No need to write a reply. Send someone to tell her I will visit on the day she mentioned.”

Confirming verbally rather than sending a written reply was a method used only by those confident the other party would not forget their appointment. It was a practice among very close friends, or a way for a superior to address a subordinate.

Isabella stretched.

‘Whether things go left or right, it’s a good outcome for me. If this isn’t a can’t-lose situation, what is?’

***

Ariadne was at home looking over the ledgers when she received an urgent message.

“My lady, a messenger just arrived and said to give this note to you.”

The servant added, “I would have turned him away at my discretion if he seemed like a nobody, but he wouldn’t give his name, and his clothes were of high quality and he had an impressive bearing, so I brought it just in case.”

Ariadne unfolded the note the servant handed her.

“A sudden engagement has come up. Can you be here in an hour? The location is Centro Anima. - A. P.S. The messenger is one of my royal guards, Sir Elko. You can come under his escort.”

Ariadne’s expression brightened, and she praised the servant. Her heart pounded.

“You did well to bring it. I’ll be stepping out for a moment, so tell the messenger downstairs to wait.”

“Shall I have a carriage brought around?”

Ariadne hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Yes. A black, inconspicuous one. And for the coachman… bring Giuseppe.”

She wasn’t usually particular about her retinue. It was rare for her to specify even the coachman, and the servant looked up at her in surprise. She urged him on.

“The messenger might leave. Hurry!”

After shooing the servant out, she turned to her own preparations.

“Bring Sancha and Anna. Quickly!”

Sancha was in charge of her wardrobe, and Anna handled her makeup. She had already wasted some time. Considering the travel time from the Cardinal’s residence to Centro Anima, she had about thirty-five minutes to get ready. Ariadne hurried them along, making her preparations with haste. She discussed what to wear with Sancha while Anna applied her makeup.

“My lady, you’ll be wearing mourning clothes… won’t you?”

Since she was going out in secret anyway, was it really necessary to wear mourning attire? Ariadne felt a moment of temptation but decided against it. It was foolish to base all one’s plans on the assumption of ‘not getting caught.’ Every endeavor had a chance of failure. Being discovered in a secret meeting with Prince Alfonso was absolutely out of the question and would be a disaster, but that was beyond human control. However, the gossip that would arise from being seen out of mourning clothes during a secret rendezvous was something she could avoid with effort.

“Yes. Something as cheerful as possible.”

Ariadne replied with a soft sigh. In a short time, the elegantly attired Ariadne donned a veil that covered her face and a French hood that concealed all of her hair, and stepped out of the front door of the de Mare estate.

A black carriage was waiting there, and beside it stood a young man with ash-gray hair in dark clothing whom she had never seen before. Ariadne smiled as she looked at him.

“You must be Sir Elko. Your master didn’t tell me your surname.”