Chapter 35

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: The Girl Who Sees Through the Truth
-----------------------------------------------------------------

When asked to reveal his identity, the Porto merchant’s crimson face turned deathly pale. His eyes darted nervously from side to side before he threw himself toward the nearest exit without another word.

“Catch him!”

“Don’t let him get away!”

A group of men lunged for the fleeing merchant, but catching a man running for his life was no easy task. *Thwack!* In the end, it was Prince Alfonso who caught him. Tall and well-built for his age, his athletic prowess was second to none. He had been seated in the center of the guest section when the *Vittoria Nike* collapsed and had escorted the ladies to safety on the right. He hadn’t missed the merchant making a run for the right-side door and, with a swift shoulder tackle, sent him sprawling to the floor. Pinning the merchant face down and twisting his arms behind his back, Prince Alfonso called for his men.

“Bind this man and lock him in the palace prison!”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

“Furthermore, appraise the authenticity of the remaining artworks. If they are forgeries, nullify the transactions. If they are genuine, ensure the payment goes to the original owners, not this merchant!”

“As you command!”

***

The Marquis Cibo’s residence was in a state of chaos, reminiscent of a battlefield. A fake marble statue was embedded in the middle of the first-floor party hall where it had smashed through the floorboards; royal security officers scurried about the house, interrogating the Porto merchant’s accomplices and the Marquis and Marchioness Cibo; and the chattering of gossips was loud enough to wake all of San Carlo.

“The second daughter of the de Mare family was remarkable during the Apostle of Acereto incident, and she’s proven herself again today!”

“Is this level of erudition even possible for a fifteen-year-old girl?”

“Theology, art, history… and in such diverse fields. At this point, I wonder if it’s not something she learned from study, but rather that she possesses eyes that can see through the truth.”

And so, Ariadne came to be known by the moniker, “Eyes That See Through the Truth.” Meanwhile, the owner of said “eyes” was in the Cibo estate’s backyard, engaged in a heated argument with a man whose thoughts remained a complete mystery to her, both in this life and the last.

“Count de Como, what in the world were you thinking?!”

She had called him ‘Count de Como,’ not ‘Count Cesare.’ Protocol dictated that a title be followed by the family name, not the given name. However, no one in San Carlo applied this rule to Cesare or his mother, Countess Rubina. Addressing someone by their title and surname was a sign of respect for their house, but the upper echelons of San Carlo society were all aware that the late ‘Count de Como,’ the man from whom Cesare had supposedly inherited his title, was a fictitious person who existed only on paper. To insist on calling him ‘Count de Como’ sounded like a pointed jab at his weak lineage. But in her fury, Ariadne was past caring.

“How could you just dump this on me with a lie, without any thought for the consequences? What were you doing?”

Cesare merely shrugged.

“Look here, little lady. It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“Address me formally! Are we close? I am the second daughter of this diocese’s Cardinal!”

“Whoa, whoa, look here.”

Cesare pressed a single finger against Ariadne’s forehead.

“You haven’t even had your débutante ball yet. That makes you a child. What right does a child have to tell an adult how to speak?”

Cesare’s eyes scanned Ariadne from head to toe before he added another comment.

“Just look at you. Showing up in a childish, little yellow chick of a dress.”

Ariadne’s body trembled with indignation. Cesare continued teasingly.

“I’ll gladly show you respect once you become a lady.”

“I will never have cause to speak with an irresponsible person like you again!”

At last, Cesare began to defend himself.

“I’m not as irresponsible as you think, little lady. I didn’t just act without a clue. I knew for a fact that the real ‘Vincenzio del Gatto’ had washed up in the Tiber River three months ago.”

His investigation had been more extensive than that, but he saw no reason to reveal everything to Ariadne.

“Then you should have handled it yourself! Why did you push it onto me?”

“You know my situation.”

Cesare put on a pitiful expression. With his features more perfect than a sculpture, the added look of sorrow made him a truly captivating sight.

“The King’s bastard, the abandoned son. The day I look like I’m lusting for power is the day I get my throat slit.”

He mimed a hand slitting his throat.

“In my position, how could I possibly say, ‘That merchant is suspicious, let’s use administrative and military power to investigate him’?”

“Then you should have stayed quiet!”

“It all turned out well in the end. It seems you and I are a perfect match, little lady. Aren’t we a pretty good combo? The noble count who investigates and sets the stage, and the clergyman’s daughter who unravels the mystery at the forefront!”

She had seen this slick, charming side of Cesare a few times when she was younger. It was a side he occasionally showed her when he was in a very good mood, but for the most part, it was how he acted when he wanted something from someone—a princess from a neighboring country, an ambassador, or even Isabella. His warmth, his jokes, and his playfulness directed at the beautiful widow Isabella during the regular tea parties Ariadne hosted. She had once thought he was being kind to her sister-in-law out of respect for her, but that goodwill had returned as a fatal betrayal. Cesare, fawning over her almost like a child, was indeed quite charming, but seeing him act this way toward her now stirred a strange feeling within her. It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a petty sense of victory, thinking, *You, who treated me with such disdain, are now sucking up to me to get on my good side.* But she had defied death to return; if she fell for the flattery of her former fiancé, the man who had cast her aside and taken her life, she would have the memory of a sea anemone, not a person. He was still incredibly charming, and she was pleased by his overtures, but she had no intention of accepting them.

“Aren’t you the villain who pushes all responsibility onto a girl you barely know, one who hasn’t even had her début? Don’t you dare mention us being a ‘combo’ to anyone. The thought alone is the stuff of nightmares.”

“I told you, I’m not that bad. Let’s just call it an outburst of my sense of justice, unable to stand by while a swindler cheated my dear little brother out of 2,000 ducats with a cheap imitation. Friendship? Familial love? Courage?”

“Ha.”

Deciding that further conversation was pointless, Ariadne turned to leave. Cesare reached out and abruptly grabbed her wrist.

“Wait. I came all this way specifically to see you today, little lady. I had to sneak in because the Cibo family didn’t send me an invitation. Let’s talk.”

Ariadne gently pulled her wrist back, pushing his hand away. She said nothing, but Cesare, seeing the faint displeasure on her face, raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. It was a subtle shift in expression most men would have missed, but Cesare had a knack for catching such things.

“My apologies, my apologies. That was rude of me. To grab a lady’s wrist. My mistake. I am a gentleman. You don’t need to be tense. My business is simple.”

Cesare looked at Ariadne and began to speak as if he were about to make a wonderful proposal.

“Let’s make a deal, like a lady and a gentleman.”

“I have no deals to make with you.”

“Don’t be like that. Just hear me out.”

He leaned in toward her conspiratorially. A gust of wind blew past, carrying the scent of rose, frankincense, and sandalwood—Count Cesare’s favorite perfume. He used to approach her just like this, drawing her into his beautiful world. He always broke down her defenses. Taking Cesare’s outstretched hand meant embarking on one of his fantastical adventures without a thought for the consequences. Cesare de Como opened his mouth and made his offer for the day.

“Won’t you sell me the ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea’? I’ll pay you a handsome price.”

“…Ah.”

Ariadne could hear the sound of her own heart shattering. A stabbing pain in her chest. It seemed a part of her had held onto a sliver of hope. After the pain came a wave of searing shame, followed immediately by an indescribable, blazing fury. He rattled off a list of items he would trade for the ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea.’

“Have you heard of the ‘Swan of Linville’? It’s one of the more valuable diamonds among my collection.”

Ariadne knew the ‘Swan of Linville’ all too well. It was a 15-carat, flawless, and exceptionally colored diamond, cut into a teardrop shape and set in a brooch with pearls. It had been part of the collection that came with the San Carlo city mansion King Leo III had bestowed upon Cesare on his thirteenth birthday. It bore the nickname, ‘the jewel given to the woman one truly loves.’ In her past life, Ariadne had desperately wanted the ‘Swan of Linville.’ Beyond the jewel’s intrinsic value, she had attached great meaning to it, believing that receiving a gem with such a nickname would finally confirm that Cesare’s elusive heart truly belonged to her. He had never given it to her during their engagement, so when she pestered him for it as a wedding gift, she’d wondered why he agreed so readily. It was, without a doubt, because he knew she would never receive that wedding gift.

“In exchange for the ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea,’ I will give you the ‘Swan of Linville,’ 6,000 gold ducats, and an assortment of various other jewels.”

And now, this young Cesare was offering the ‘Swan of Linville’ to an Ariadne who had done nothing for him. In this life, Ariadne had not dedicated her youth to him, had not abetted his murders, had not fallen ill, had not risked her life. All she had done was increase her own value. And yet the ‘Swan of Linville,’ which had never come to her despite all her devotion, was now so easily within her grasp. No, that wasn’t right. He wasn't *giving* it to her. He was offering to *exchange* it for the ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea.’ She could be a business partner or an object to be used, but never the woman who received a jewel given with love. That was Ariadne de Mare to Cesare. She couldn’t stop a hollow laugh from escaping her lips. When her anger reached the heavens, all that came out was laughter.

“Count Cesare de Como. You are truly a clever fool.”

“Me?”

*You lost the person who gave you everything with all her heart. You’ve suffered a great loss.* But Ariadne’s lips spoke words different from those deep in her heart. She couldn’t possibly say what she truly felt. She would sound like a madwoman.

“You’ve insulted His Majesty the King by calling yourself his son and all that, but let’s put that aside. I’m the Cardinal’s illegitimate daughter, so neither of us is in a position to boast.”

It was an attack that pierced Cesare’s weakest point like a needle.

“But if your very life hangs by the thin thread of the King’s favor, excluded from both politics and the military with only a single drop of his blood to your name, shouldn’t you at least try to properly read his mood?”

Cesare looked surprised by the unexpected attack. Never before had someone so bluntly thrown such unpleasant truths in his face while he was trying to charm them.

“Do you think His Majesty the King gave me the ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea’ so I could sell it for scraps? Do you think he’d be pleased if I just sold it off as I pleased?”

“What?”

“He’d be thrilled to see me sell it to the Kingdom of Gallico or the Republic of Porto just because they offered a good price!”

Ariadne’s voice was sharp as she lashed out.

“The ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea’ is something His Majesty has entrusted to my care. I am its practical custodian, not its owner. This is not something that can be bought with money.”

That much was fact. What followed was pure emotion.

“It’s truly pathetic to see you show up, for all your talk of being his son, without a single thought for the King’s intentions—intentions that even I can understand—and demand that I sell the ‘Heart of the Deep Blue Sea’! You, who cannot distinguish between right and wrong, good and bad, what you should have and what you should not, are dreaming far too big. Get a grip.”

*In your past life, you failed to discern the woman you should have had from the one you shouldn’t have. It’s the same this time. The only difference is that the object is a jewel.*

This time, Ariadne was determined to leave. As someone who had spent fourteen years by his side, she might not have understood him, but she had memorized his patterns. At this point, he would surely lose his temper.

“You there! Stop!”

Just as she expected, Count Cesare spun around and grabbed her wrist as she walked briskly away. Ariadne tried to wrench her arm free, more forcefully than before, but this time Cesare was serious and didn’t budge. The bones in her wrist ached under the grip of a grown man.

“Let go of me!”

Over her sharp cry, a deeper male voice overlapped.

“Release her hand, Count de Como.”

It was Prince Alfonso, one of the only two people in all of San Carlo who could properly address Cesare as ‘Count de Como.’