Sister I am the Queen in This Life [Novel] Chapter 136

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: A Grave Incident
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She looked up at Prince Alfonso as if she had seen a ghost.

“Alfonso…?”

“Yes, it’s me. Ariadne. I’m here.”

Alfonso rushed to her side, carefully gathering her into his arms. He knelt on the ground, laid her head on his lap, and stroked her hair.

“Are you okay? Are you unharmed?”

Bruises from the unknown man’s beating were beginning to surface on Ariadne’s face. On her neck and shoulders, angry red marks were slowly mixing with a bluish tinge. Her top was torn all the way to her shoulder blade, exposing her neck and upper back.

“What in the world…!”

“…Alfonso, something terrible has happened.”

He thought she was just flustered and rambling because of the shock.

“No, don’t worry. I’m here now.”

Prince Alfonso knew how this situation would appear to the world. A young maiden, dragged away by a strange man, returns with her clothes torn and covered in bruises. San Carlo society would surely gossip that something terrible had happened. No family would take her as a daughter-in-law, and her parents would likely send her to a convent. But that was only if people found out.

“I killed that man. He can’t go around talking now. No one saw. There won’t be any rumors. It’s okay. Let’s go back to your residence quietly and you can rest for a month or so. We can get through this without anyone knowing.”

“…Alfonso. Do you know who that is?”

“No?”

Only then did Prince Alfonso look back at the fallen man. The man, of average height with a particularly large build, lay facedown on the ground, dressed in the uniform of a royal coachman.

“That man… I think he’s Duke Mireille…”

Prince Alfonso’s eyes widened. He had originally intended to bury this incident. A major crime committed within the palace, breaching its tight security, would be handled with the same gravity as an assassination attempt on a key figure. The masterminds would be thoroughly tracked, the circumstances of the event brought to light, and the perpetrators severely punished. Though the target had been different this time, if the criminal had been aiming for the monarch’s life, the nation’s security could have been shaken. Assassination attempts were, nine times out of ten, escalated into major incidents. The palace, and even the city of San Carlo itself, would have its gates shut to conduct a wide-net search, sweeping the city in a short time to prevent the culprits and any potential accomplices from escaping. That was the standard procedure for hunting down assassins. But if this incident blew up, rumors about what happened to Ariadne would inevitably spread. Even if nothing had truly happened, San Carlo society would not believe it. A middle-aged, pot-bellied duke from a neighboring country abducting a young lady to a secluded place, the young lady beaten and bruised by him, and the duke killed by the prince, her suitor. The drama they would write was as clear as day.

“No way…”

The future for a young lady who had lost her virtue was clear. If she wasn’t half-forced by her family to take her own life, it would be the convent. Ariadne’s father was not the kind of man who would defy public opinion to protect his daughter. Alfonso couldn’t bring himself to do something that would destroy Ariadne’s social, and perhaps even physical, life, even if it meant letting a political criminal—an assassin—get away. But if the dead man was Duke Mireille, the head of the Gallican delegation, the incident could not be buried.

“Is he… really dead?”

Ariadne, despite dragging her sore foot, approached the fallen Gallican and placed her fingers under his nose. Alfonso stood beside her, staring intently at the dead man’s face.

“This man, he spoke Gallican.”

Ariadne explained slowly.

“He didn’t use Etruscan, but he seemed to have no trouble understanding it. Like… a diplomat.”

“…Let’s check if it’s really Duke Mireille.”

Alfonso said in a somber voice. He looked up at the sky. The slender crescent moon had set long ago. Only the dazzlingly bright starlight shone down cruelly on the two young lovers.

“…He might just be someone who looks like him. Let’s go through his pockets first.”

Even knowing his words were likely a futile hope, Alfonso had no choice but to say them. As he searched the dead man’s clothes, he prayed that this man was not Duke Mireille, but a real coachman whom he could dump in the Tiber River without political repercussions.

*Please, please…!*

As Prince Alfonso searched the dead man’s chest, his fingertips brushed against something like paper. He hurriedly rummaged through the man’s clothes and pulled out the paper he had been carrying so carefully. Prince Alfonso unfolded the paper, which had been folded three times. It was a kind of contract, written in Gallican. “Kill or cause equivalent harm to Ariadne de Mare, illegitimate daughter of Cardinal de Mare of the San Carlo diocese, Kingdom of Etruscan. March 18, 1123. Lariesa de Valois.”

“What?”

Prince Alfonso gasped for breath. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had thought Lariesa was eccentric. He knew she was not a person of great character. But he had never imagined she would do something like this.

“What is this…!”

At Alfonso’s groan, Ariadne, who was right beside him, pulled at the paper. Alfonso tightened his grip, thinking Ariadne would be shocked if she saw the contents, but she wanted to know. Finally taking the paper, she read it.

“Kill or cause equivalent harm to Ariadne de Mare… Lariesa de Valois…”

Like Alfonso, Ariadne’s eyes widened in shock. She had never dreamed she could read such intense malice directed at her in just three lines of text. From Duke Mireille’s pocket, where Grand Duchess Lariesa’s letter had been found, they also retrieved the Duke’s signet. It was a golden ring, clearly marked with the bear and cross of the Mireille family crest, which he had temporarily removed from his finger and placed in his pocket to hide his identity. The corpse lying before them was, without a doubt, Duke Mireille. Alfonso pulled Ariadne into a sudden, fierce embrace.

“…Ari, I’m so sorry.”

He held her in his arms and whispered in her ear.

“This is all my fault… Because of me, you…”

Grand Duchess Lariesa, unable to control her feelings for Prince Alfonso, had lost control and attempted something unforgivable against Ariadne. In the end, it was all his fault. Thick tears streamed from Alfonso’s tightly shut eyes.

“I couldn’t even protect the woman I love… How could this…”

He shed tears of regret, stroking Ariadne’s hair again and again.

“I didn’t know the Grand Duchess of Gallico was this vicious. I didn’t know she would act so quickly, and I never dreamed the Gallican delegation would do something so over the line. I…”

He was about to say he’d been “careless,” but chose his words again. Carelessness was a term for when someone who should have been prepared acted complacently. Alfonso had to admit it. Even if he could go back to yesterday, he would have done the same. He had truly never imagined Grand Duchess Lariesa was capable of such a thing.

“…I was incompetent. It’s all my fault.”

Alfonso held Ariadne, stroking her hair over and over. As for Ariadne herself, none of this felt real. She was more numb than sad; to be precise, her emotions had been beaten into a standstill as she assessed the situation.

*If it becomes known that Duke Mireille is dead, His Majesty Leo III will close the city gates and try to root out the accomplices.*

Grand Duchess Lariesa’s note would be discovered in the process.

*No, someone like Leo III might try to quietly bury Lariesa’s note. After all, Gallico’s gunpowder is still on the table. He could try to trade keeping the note secret for glossing over the fact that Duke Mireille died on Etruscan soil. I’m the one in deep trouble, not Lariesa.*

Duke Mireille had died at Prince Alfonso’s hands. To explain ‘why’ he died—that is, to prove in the course of determining the facts that Prince Alfonso wasn’t some madman who slaughtered foreign envoys—they would inevitably have to reveal what Duke Mireille had been trying to do. That he had been attempting something wicked, and Prince Alfonso had been forced to wield the hammer of justice to save a poor maiden.

*And that’s where my name will come out.*

Trying to smooth things over by inventing a fictional character—saying Prince Alfonso happened to stumble upon Duke Mireille trying to harm Palace Maid #1—was out of the question. The level of interest in this case would be far too high. The discussions would be sharp, and if even the slightest flaw in credibility was found, the Kingdom of Gallico would never accept the Kingdom of Etruscan’s explanation. From Leo III’s perspective, revealing all the facts without falsehood was the best strategy. It might be different if he could produce a fake maid with an unshakeable false testimony, but Leo III was certainly not the type of man to take a risk out of sympathy for Ariadne.

*My father will be no help.*

This wasn’t a problem that could be solved by Cardinal de Mare’s influence. Her father hadn’t even salvaged Isabella’s reputation in the Marquis Campa incident, so would he really go all out to help Ariadne, whom he cared for even less? Besides, even if Cardinal de Mare had the will, he lacked the ability. Leo III was currently blinded by the prospect of Gallico’s gunpowder. No matter what tricks the Cardinal pulled now, he couldn’t overcome the allure of Gallican gunpowder or the threat of a declaration of war.

*Couldn’t we just throw him into the Tiber River?*

Ariadne briefly considered this, taking a page from the De Mare family motto: “What no one knows never happened.”

*All of San Carlo would be turned upside down.*

If Duke Mireille went missing, the Kingdom of Gallico would lodge a formal protest, and Leo III would tear apart not just the palace but the entire capital in a panic. If a bloated corpse floated up from the Tiber River, there would be another uproar. The prince’s faction, even to an uninformed eye, was by no means powerful enough to kill a key figure and clean up the mess perfectly, all while evading his father’s notice. Moreover, at the very least, Grand Duchess Lariesa knew that Duke Mireille had been killed while going after Ariadne. What if the Grand Duchess were to talk? A rational, intelligent person would keep their mouth shut, but Grand Duchess Lariesa could hardly be called clever, even as a compliment. She was a loose cannon.

*We’d be found out, one hundred percent.*

Ariadne let out a hollow laugh. To think she had come back from the dead. For the past year, she had lived with all her might, calculating every variable. She had gained renown in society, secured her position within her family, and finally succeeded in ousting her stepmother. And now, to be on the verge of being sent to a convent because of a scheme hatched by a jealous, crazy idiot. A hollow laugh was all that came out. Her shoulders trembled as she chuckled softly. Alfonso, mistaking her for crying, held her tight.

“Let’s go to my mother.”

Prince Alfonso whispered to Ariadne.

“My mother will know of a good solution.”

Queen Marguerite certainly had a small faction that could move without the King’s knowledge. If she decided to accept the risk and commit her full resources, she might just be able to create a breakthrough in this case. It was possible, but only if Queen Marguerite cooperated fully. She was their one remaining hope.

*But will Her Majesty the Queen really make a sacrifice for my sake?*

If the whole truth came out, the only one who would suffer would be Ariadne de Mare. Her son would get through it unscathed. Loyal and capable retainers are hard to come by. The Queen had no reason to sacrifice her retainers and her power to help Ariadne.

*If I were the Queen, I wouldn’t do a thing.*

It was the obvious choice for a rational person. Besides, though Ariadne didn’t know it, Queen Marguerite was not particularly favorable toward the idea of having Ariadne as a daughter-in-law. But Alfonso had faith in his mother.

“My mother… she never turns a blind eye to someone in trouble through no fault of their own.”

“Is that so?”

Ariadne thought that was an overly romanticized assessment of his own mother. What politician like that existed in the world? Every royal on the central continent was a seasoned politician. Those who weren’t were all dead.

“She’ll find a way, somehow.”

Though she didn’t agree at all, Ariadne nodded.

“…Alright, if you think so, let’s go.”

She had no expectations. She was simply in a state of checkmate, with no way out on her own. If there was a sliver of hope, it was right to go there. They dragged Duke Mireille’s body into the bushes and hastily covered it with dirt and loose leaves. They would have to send a subordinate to retrieve it quickly before it was discovered.
- *Rustle.*
Hearing the sound of crushed leaves, Alfonso swiftly raised his head and scanned their surroundings. Alerted by his vigilance, Ariadne also looked around.

“Didn’t you hear something?”

“…I didn’t hear anything.”

But the area around them was all low shrubbery. Small, prettily rounded bushes that came up to their knees offered a clear view of the vicinity. A child might have been able to hide, but there was no place for an adult to conceal themselves.

“Must have been a cat or something.”

Ariadne urged Alfonso on.

“It’s dangerous to linger here. Let’s hurry and leave. Nothing good will come of being seen.”

Alfonso nodded. She was absolutely right. He helped Ariadne to her feet, and together they set off through the palace’s back paths, heading for the Queen’s palace.