Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 127

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 127
Chapter Title: Things I Couldn't Have
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Leaving behind her subpar friends, dim-witted brother, and unsatisfying partner, Isabella, having secured respectable company for all to see, entered the ‘Lily Room’ with a beaming smile hidden inside. As she entered the ballroom, a palace attendant handed her a small package of sugar cookies and a single daffodil. It was a welcome gift for all the female guests.

“Thank you.”

Most of the guests had already arrived. Only the royal family and the guest of honor, Grand Duchess Lariesa de Valois of Gallico, had yet to make their entrance. Thanks to Count and Countess Bartolini, they even managed to secure a rather nice sofa in a corner. Isabella reached for a glass of bubbly champagne being served by an attendant but hesitated, picking up a glass of water instead.

“It seems you do not drink, Lady de Mare?”

the old Count Bartolini asked gently.

“Our Clemente doesn’t much care for alcohol either.”

Isabella barely suppressed the urge to mutter, ‘You should have seen your wife dead drunk with Marquis Campa,’ and instead offered the most sorrowful smile she could muster.

“No, I usually do have a little to drink.”

At the mention of her drinking, Iacopo’s face lit up as he looked at her. *Maybe she’ll drink with me if I ask her in the future?* After all, Isabella had always told him she couldn’t handle a single drop of alcohol.

“It hasn’t been long since my mother passed… By His Majesty’s decree, the mourning period must end after a month, but even after I take off my mourning clothes, I wish to honor my mother through my conduct for a while longer.”

As the old Count Bartolini gazed at her with a deeply impressed expression, Ippolito, sitting across from them, cluelessly snickered and opened his mouth.

“Hey, if you want to honor Mom, you should be shopping like a madwoman, just like she did when she was alive… Ugh!”

He was forcibly silenced by a swift, silent kick to the shin. When he looked at the owner of the shoe, his sister, as delicate as a flower petal, gave her dear brother the most gentle of smiles. Just then, Count and Countess Balzo approached Count and Countess Bartolini and joined their party. Count Bartolini, looking proud, gestured toward Isabella and introduced her to the Balzos.

“Count Balzo, Countess. This young lady here is abstaining from alcohol to honor her recently departed mother.”

Count Bartolini looked proudly at Clemente, then glanced back at Isabella and continued.

“Where do you find young people like this these days? Isn’t she admirable?”

Countess Balzo, who had been glaring at Isabella with an exceptionally stern gaze, now looked at her as if to say, *What’s gotten into you?*

“That’s not like your usual image.”

Isabella cleverly treated the Countess’s muttered lament as an invitation to converse, allowing her to address the woman who would normally be beyond her reach.

“I’m not such a strange person. I simply wish to mourn my mother.”

Countess Balzo seemed displeased, but she gave a slight nod. After all, Isabella was sharing a table with the Count and Countess Bartolini. For Countess Balzo to treat her as if she were invisible would have been an insult to them. Having elicited a response from Countess Balzo, Isabella felt even bolder.

“Countess Balzo, I have heard so much of your great reputation. That you are a woman of such high virtue and noble spirit…”

“Ah, is that so?”

Countess Balzo seemed uninterested. A bit annoyed, even. In a way, it was almost amusing to see the former ‘greatest jewel of San Carlo,’ whose reputation was now completely tarnished, trying so desperately to curry favor with her. But Isabella was undeterred and continued to speak to her.

“My father, Cardinal de Mare, saw you volunteering at the relief facilities affiliated with the Holy See and remarked that such service from a great noble is truly a noble devotion.”

Countess Balzo was diligent in her charity work, but her methods were somewhat different from those of other noble ladies. Typically, noble ladies would hold charity bazaars and donate the profits, or simply donate money. Countess Balzo, however, organized groups of noblewomen to volunteer their own labor—wiping railings, hanging laundry, and cleaning vases with their own hands. This had led to subtle criticisms circulating in high society: that it was useless child’s play, an act of pathetic, romantic self-love, or perhaps because her husband wouldn’t let her spend money freely. Some called it deceitful to mop the floors of an orphanage or a nursing home while draped in jewels and silks. Isabella had just scratched that particular itch.

“Oh, did he say that?”

For the first time, Countess Balzo showed a hint of pleasure. Isabella answered with a bright smile.

“Indeed, he did. Gon of Yesak said that working hands are truly precious.”

The ‘Meditations’ she had been forced to copy while confined during her probation was finally paying off. Isabella had decided to copy everything about Ariadne. Whenever that insufferable girl said such things, the older ladies would practically swoon. It was time to put what she had carefully observed to use.

“The value of one’s own labor isn’t just about the results it produces. To judge its worth by such things is vulgar. Ultimately, it is a matter of character cultivation. I believe the point Gon of Yesak was making was to emphasize the gratitude for others and the patience one learns through labor.”

It was a passage from ‘A Seeker’s Contemplation’ by Sister St. Claribel, a commentary on the ‘Meditations.’ Isabella was merely parroting what she had vaguely understood. She didn’t particularly agree with the sentiment.

*Learn patience, my ass. You just get better at swearing.*

But she didn’t let it show, meeting Countess Balzo’s eyes and continuing with grave sincerity. Light seemed to radiate from Isabella’s pure, beautiful face. Her immersion in the role would put any stage actor to shame.

“Everyone holds charity bazaars and the like to earn blessings, sponsoring the poor with money, but for esteemed ladies to personally dip their hands in cold water during a harsh winter to care for children—that is what’s truly admirable. Cardinal de Mare said so himself.”

At such perfectly timed flattery, Countess Balzo’s eyes were already shining. Beside her, Clemente stared at Isabella with a dazed expression.

“My, what a thoughtful young lady. You’re quite different from your reputation.”

*Good. Here it comes.*

Isabella lowered her head, a sad expression on her face.

“Public opinion is often distorted…”

Iacopo Attendolo chimed in from the side.

“Smoke often rises where there is no fire in high society.”

Isabella hadn’t intended to be so blatant, but if Iacopo was going to help, she wouldn’t complain. Now she didn’t have to build the entire narrative herself; she only had to play the part of a good girl.

“Oh… I’m sure I must have done something wrong to earn such a poor reputation.”

“A young lady of such outstanding beauty as yourself is an easy target for envy and jealousy, Miss Isabella.”

Iacopo was starting to cross a line. To openly declare in front of other ladies that someone was envied for her beauty would only breed resentment. This was especially true the smaller the age gap. Not only was Clemente de Bartolini young, but Countess Balzo was also on the younger side for her social standing. Isabella hastily changed the subject.

“With my mother’s passing, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the meaning of life. From now on, I want to live a life of sacrifice and service.”

Fortunately, Countess Balzo didn’t seem to have paid much mind to Iacopo’s words.

“Oh? Are you interested in volunteer work?”

“Of course! I’ve been wanting to do hands-on volunteer work, just like you, Countess, but I couldn’t find a suitable place.”

It was a blatant lie. Isabella was the daughter of Cardinal de Mare. There were countless orphanages and relief projects affiliated with the Holy See, and her own father was the director in charge of them. But she simply offered a faint smile.

“I just didn’t know where to begin.”

“Isabella, why don’t you ask Countess Balzo if you can go with her?”

Leticia chimed in to help. *Good, yes, you. It was worth pairing you with my brother. You’ve earned your keep.* Surprisingly, Countess Balzo didn’t seem opposed to the suggestion.

“In that case, would you like to come along next time, Miss Isabella? As it happens, Marchioness Salvati has taken to her bed lately, so we have an open spot.”

Leaving Clemente and her contorted expression behind, Isabella smiled as radiantly as a May peony. But she couldn’t just jump at the offer. A friend easily won is easily lost.

“Oh dear, why has the Marchioness Salvati been absent from the gatherings?”

“Ah, that. I suppose the rumor hasn’t reached the unmarried ladies. You know, the incident where she received a confession from the court jester.”

The hunchbacked jester the royal family kept around for amusement had confessed to a noble lady he had long admired from afar. It had been a sincere declaration of love. But his subject was married, he was a hunchback, and there had been absolutely no romantic connection between them.

“It caused quite a stir last autumn.”

“Marquis Salvati couldn’t stand it and beat the jester to within an inch of his life.”

“Because of that incident, the Salvati family couldn’t even follow the royal court down to Taranto.”

“Isn’t it common for a knight to pledge his love and devotion to a noble lady?”

“Is a knight the same as a jester?”

“That’s true. Even the confession itself is offensive.”

“It was an act far above his station, but I can’t help but feel Marquis Salvati overreacted and made things worse. He could have just laughed it off.”

After chattering amongst themselves for a while, Countess Balzo and her companions suddenly realized they had excluded the younger ladies. The countess looked at Isabella and replied gently.

“In any case, because of that incident, Marchioness Salvati has been too embarrassed to go out and hasn’t been attending our meetings. We have an open spot.”

“Oh my… That is truly unfortunate for the Marchioness Salvati.”

Isabella glanced at the floor with melancholic eyes before looking up at Countess Balzo, her face breaking into a sweet smile.

“If you would have me, I would be delighted to attend.”

In all her sixteen years, Isabella had never put so much effort into flattering another woman. Thinking what a waste of energy it was, she made the smile on her pretty face even more radiant. Just then, from the north side of the ballroom, an attendant’s voice rang out, announcing the arrival of the guests of honor.

“His Majesty the King arrives—!”

From the passage behind the ‘Lily Room,’ which was reserved exclusively for honored guests, the voice of a palace attendant announcing the entrance of King Leo III rang throughout the hall. *Fanfare!* As if concerned the guests might not have heard the unamplified announcement, twelve members of the king’s honor guard appeared and blew their horns. The guests immediately stopped their conversations, rose from their seats, and turned toward the honored guests’ entrance. Amidst the resounding horns, Leo III appeared at the forefront, with Queen Marguerite walking by his side. Directly behind the majestically walking king and queen was Prince Alfonso. His face was expressionless. The Grand Duchess Lariesa’s left hand rested on his arm.

They were followed by Duke Mireille, the head of the delegation from the Kingdom of Gallico, and Countess Rubina, the king’s mistress. Isabella’s eyes flashed. Count Cesare, the man who had so coldly rejected her, was escorting his own mother to the royal ball. Thanks to this, he had entered the ballroom through the honored guests’ passage alongside the royal family.

*Count Cesare, I’ll make you regret this…!*

She didn’t know how, but she would make it happen. Isabella never forgot the bitterness of rejection. Regardless of whatever grudge Isabella de Mare, a mere guest among many, harbored as she glared at the royal family, Leo III strode authoritatively to the prepared dais at the front and raised his right hand. The guests filling the ‘Lily Room’ fell silent at once.

“My loyal and trusted subjects, welcome to the court ball that marks the beginning of the ‘Spring Festival.’ You are the core figures of San Carlo, the people most deserving of respect.”

The audience broke into applause.

“As you all know from the prolonged negotiations, today we hold this ball with our honored guests from the Kingdom of Gallico, with whom we are considering a marriage alliance. To commemorate this, the first dance will be between my only son, Alfonso, and the Grand Duchess Lariesa of the Kingdom of Gallico. To all my guests, please eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves. To the waltz!”

At Leo III’s call, the invited guests answered in unison.

“To the waltz!”

Leo III’s address was coarse, but it had the undeniable merit of being brief. The moment the king’s speech ended, the seventy-piece orchestra began to play. It was a fast-tempo San Carlo waltz. Lariesa turned to Alfonso, her face wreathed in smiles. But only the man could ask for a dance. Hiding his reluctance, Alfonso extended the invitation.

“Shall we, Grand Duchess?”