Chapter 66

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: The First Proposal of This Life
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Alfonso smiled, pressing his palm against Ariadne’s to measure their sizes.

“How could you possibly pick grapes with such a small hand? Could you even manage one bunch at a time?”

Ariadne wriggled her hand upward, changing the point of comparison from the base of her palm to the tips of her fingers.

“See? It’s not that small from this angle! And your hands are big, not mine small!”

The man who strode forward and abruptly snatched Ariadne’s wrist was what pulled the two lovers from their sweet, private world back to reality.

“...!”

Ariadne froze like a startled deer, and Alfonso instinctively moved his body to block the space between her and the man. The stranger’s hand gripped Ariadne’s wrist so tightly that her bracelet dug into her skin. Almost simultaneously, as she winced in pain, Alfonso’s large hand clamped down on the forearm of the masked man, the ‘plague doctor.’

“I don’t know who you are, but let go of her.”

Caught in Alfonso’s grip, the ‘plague doctor’ felt the nerves in his forearm being crushed, his hand losing its strength. He gritted his teeth and released Ariadne’s wrist. As she stepped back, the ‘plague doctor’ finally lifted his mask halfway, revealing his face.

“Count de Como!”

“Count de Como, I see.”

Cesare shot a glance at Alfonso and sneered.

“Does our kingdom’s noble little sun go around revealing his identity even at a masquerade? Why don’t you just scream to the world that you’re the prince?”

He was referring to the fact that Alfonso wore a Bauta mask, which only covered half his face, and was dressed in attire so luxurious that anyone would immediately recognize him as the prince.

“Since it’s a masquerade, you won’t be so gauche as to enforce royal etiquette, will you?”

Prince Alfonso coldly ignored Cesare’s taunt. He was too busy checking on Ariadne, who must have been frightened, to bother with a scoundrel like Cesare. Instead, it was Ariadne who, once freed, shot back at him.

“Count de Como! What is the meaning of this?”

“I came to save you, my lady. The one who should let go is not me, but Prince Alfonso.”

“What are you talking about?”

As Ariadne posed the question, practically leaning against Alfonso, Cesare fixed his gaze on the prince and let out a dark, derisive smile.

“‘Golden Prince,’ where on earth did you ditch Grand Duchess Lariesa to be here, seducing an innocent maiden?”

For a moment, Prince Alfonso was at a loss for words, frozen in place. His hand, which had been resting on Ariadne’s shoulder, lifted slightly into the air.

“Stop driving a nail into this poor Etruscan lady’s heart and let go of her now. Go find your precious foreign Grand Duchess.”

As Alfonso remained silent, Cesare turned back to Ariadne.

“Little lady. Leave this pipsqueak and come with me.”

This time, instead of forcefully grabbing her wrist, he extended his hand to her. His right hand, clad in its usual deerskin glove, waited for her in the air. Instead of taking Cesare’s suspended hand, Ariadne calmly asked a question.

“Is Grand Duchess Lariesa the state guest from the Grand Duchy of Valois?”

Cesare looked at Alfonso, incredulous.

“You didn’t even tell her who the state guest was?”

Alfonso’s face turned beet red. He had thought he’d been so considerate, so careful to handle every stage of this matter with propriety. He hadn’t lied, nor had he crossed any lines. But it was an undeniable fact that he hadn’t told Ariadne who the guest was or why she was visiting San Carlo. He had simply thought there was no need to go into such trivial details. That’s what he had thought. But he and Ariadne were the kind to share all sorts of trivial things. *Right, why did I hide it?* However, Ariadne looked back at Alfonso, unshaken, and spoke calmly.

“If she is such a person, then of course we must go find her. I’ll help you look.”

It was Cesare who was taken aback this time, having expected Ariadne to burst into a jealous rage.

“My lady!”

He took another step closer to her.

“Don’t you feel wronged? That bastard can’t be with you! He’s in marriage talks with the Grand Duchess of the Kingdom of Gallico! He’ll toy with your heart, then snatch up the daughter of a foreign monarch and leave you! You’re being used!”

This time, Cesare truly expected a reaction from Ariadne. But she didn’t even flinch. Instead, her expression hardened as she spoke to him in a firm tone.

“Count Cesare. I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Prince Alfonso and I are nothing to each other.”

The one more shocked by that resolute declaration was not Cesare, but Alfonso, standing right beside her.

“I have never received a courtship proposal, nor have we met with any personal feelings involved.”

It was true that he had never formally proposed courtship. But had they met without personal feelings? He certainly hadn't. If he were to be honest with himself, it had always been nine spoonfuls of personal affection to one spoonful of noble cause. Had it not been the same for her?

“Please do not tarnish a good friendship with such sordid assumptions.”

At this statement, Alfonso held his breath. *Friendship. Right, friendship.* Perhaps in her eyes, it was just friendship. He had not befriended her with friendship in mind. Maybe at first, but at some point, that had changed. But did he have the right to demand more from her? Bound by duty, what could he possibly offer her? Ariadne continued.

“And who are you, exactly, to interfere in the private life of someone you have no relation to?”

Alfonso was a man with much to protect, but Cesare was a free man. Alfonso had his nation, his people, his mother, but Cesare had nothing so desperate to hold onto. And so, he could impulsively shout in response to her question.

“Let’s just say I’m your suitor. I can propose to you, damn it. Fine, I will! Is that what you want?”

The one most stunned by this declaration was undoubtedly Alfonso, but even Cesare himself, who had uttered the words, seemed surprised. Since it was already out, Cesare strode another step closer to Ariadne.

“I’ll send the proposal. I’ll send it to Cardinal de Mare first thing tomorrow morning. So just get away from that bastard already. I can’t stand to watch it.”

Count Cesare had mentioned marriage to countless women in his life. Often on the first day they met, regardless of whether the other person was a commoner, a foreigner, or a married woman. This tactic worked better the more his reputation as a rake grew. Whether marrying him was a realistic possibility or not, women were overjoyed by the mere fact that the word ‘marriage’ had escaped the scoundrel’s lips, and they would open their hearts to him completely. It was often a direct ticket to their beds. But of all the proposals he had ever thrown around, the one he had just voiced was the most specific. It was also the one with the highest chance of becoming an actual marriage. Their statuses matched, their positions matched, their ages matched, and above all, Cesare’s own intention to follow through on his promise was higher than ever before. Yet, it became the most coldly rejected proposal he had ever uttered.

“Ha, ha, hahahahahahahaha!”

The maiden who received the proposal laughed like a madwoman by the old fountain in the secluded garden. She laughed, unable to control herself, and tried to wipe away the tears of mirth, only to be blocked by her mask.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Count Cesare.”

She took a step back, gazing at him steadily from behind her masked face. Cesare was confused. He couldn’t even guess what expression she was making behind the white mask. The eerie impassiveness of the Volto mask stirred his fear.

“I am well aware that your heart is lighter than a reed. You should live freely, untethered to someone like me.”

Ariadne thought how dramatically different this life was from her previous one. She was avoiding an engagement with Cesare as if it were the plague, yet here was the man himself, proposing to her. What a cruel twist of fate! If he had been like this in her past life, she would have been overcome with happiness and done everything she could for him. But not anymore. She believed that while the sequence of events could change, human nature could not. And standing here was the Cesare who knew nothing of her past life. He bristled at her words about his heart being lighter than a reed.

“What? I’m fickle? I have no feelings for you? You don’t know me yet, my lady.”

Even in that moment, he added a slick remark.

“And what’s wrong with you as my bride? ‘Someone like you?’ You’re perfect.”

Watching this whole scene unfold, Alfonso was belatedly overcome with a surge of anger toward Cesare. It was true that marriage talks were underway with the Grand Duchess of Valois. But they were just talks. He didn't have a fiancée, nor did he have other women he was seeing, unlike the scoundrel before him. Alfonso had always been a gentleman. He had been taught that it was vulgar to bring up a man’s matters below the belt in front of a lady. But whenever Ariadne was involved, he always lost the composure his education had instilled in him—no, he lost his very own prudent nature. Ariadne made him into someone he was not.

“Count de Como, shut that filthy mouth of yours. You accuse me of using Ariadne, but have you taken a look at your own conduct? Are you in any position to propose to a noble lady?”

Alfonso blocked Cesare with his body, shielding Ariadne from his sight. Alfonso was in the process of transforming from a boy into a full-fledged young man. His towering height and broad shoulders, which had grown in just a few months, were intimidating.

“Stop hitting on ladies like it’s a game. Your scandals have reached the palace walls. Have you settled things with Lady Ragusa yet?”

He was referring to the commoner widow Cesare had dallied with before the miller's wife who had recently sent a spiteful letter. Cesare, hearing the name of a woman he had cast aside more than six months ago, flared up.

“Why are you bringing up irrelevant things? That’s all in the past!”

Cesare shot back, forgetting all decorum. But Alfonso’s attack was sharp—not because Alfonso was particularly eloquent, but because Cesare’s own actions made him so vulnerable.

“You call it the past after such a public affair? Have you ever taken responsibility for anything in your life? It’s only natural His Majesty doesn’t acknowledge you! Why would he acknowledge a troublemaker like you and invite disaster upon himself?”

“You son of a—!”

Cesare raised his fist, but he couldn’t bring himself to strike, his hand trembling with rage. He wasn’t so far gone as to punch Prince Alfonso in the face within the palace grounds. It was Ariadne who cut the confrontation short.

“Enough!”

She looked up at Alfonso and said.

“Let’s go. We need to find the Grand Duchess of Valois. I’ll help you.”

When Alfonso didn’t answer one way or another, she grabbed his sleeve and forcibly led him away from the fountain. In moments like these, pride often made people do foolish things, even when they knew better. Separating them was the best course of action. Alfonso was not the type of man to stubbornly argue with a woman who was making sense. Without another word, he obediently let Ariadne lead him away. Beside the fountain where Ariadne had led Alfonso away, Cesare was left standing alone. Trembling with suppressed rage, he kicked a loose stone on the ground.

“Shit!”

The stone hit the fountain and ricocheted with a loud clatter. Still seething, he stomped his foot several more times and even kicked the fountain itself, his body shaking. He couldn't pinpoint what angered him the most. The rejected proposal? The fact that she left with Prince Alfonso? The accusations from Alfonso? But soon enough, the fuming Cesare also disappeared into the garden. And in the darkness, Isabella had been watching everything with gleaming eyes.