Chapter 7

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: The Reborn Villainess
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The central staircase was dizzyingly high. Arabella paid no mind to the height, not slowing down in the slightest, as if nothing else mattered as long as she could shove Ariadne down. But there was a clear difference in size between a fifteen-year-old and a ten-year-old. No matter how forcefully Arabella charged, she couldn't overpower Ariadne. Ariadne lightly stepped aside. Unfortunately, Isabella happened to be standing diagonally next to Ariadne. With Ariadne out of the way, Arabella's path led straight toward her eldest sister, Isabella.

“Huh? Wait!”

“What?!”

Unable to dodge the charging Arabella in time, Isabella collided squarely with her own sister and tumbled down the stairs. —*Clatter, crash!*

“Aah!”

“Gah!”

Since Arabella had been running forward, she managed to grab the banister near the stairs and stop herself just in time. But Isabella, who had her back to the stairs, had nothing to grab onto and no support to absorb the impact. She tumbled down a full flight of stairs to the landing, collapsing in the narrow space. —*Thump!* She had fallen so hard that she couldn't get up on her own.

“Ouch…”

The central staircase in Cardinal de Mare's residence was strangely high and narrow. The steep incline and the very narrow steps looked truly dangerous. Because of the high ceiling, the screams echoed loudly. At Isabella's cry of pain, the door to Cardinal de Mare's drawing room burst open.

“What is all this noise!”

Startled by the commotion, Cardinal de Mare rushed out of his private drawing room and looked around. His eyes scanned over a terrified Arabella and a composed Ariadne before landing on Isabella, who lay collapsed on the landing below. He roared.

“What happened here!”

He gestured for a maid to help Isabella. Maids rushed from all directions, helping Isabella sit up and applying an ice pack from the kitchen. Isabella couldn't stand properly on her injured ankle. Seeing her crumpled on the landing, Cardinal de Mare bellowed.

“Who did this!”

Isabella, clever as ever, kept her head bowed low and said nothing. Tattling would only make her lose face. When Isabella remained silent, Cardinal de Mare glared back and forth between Ariadne and Arabella, interrogating them.

“Which of you two did this?”

Arabella, pale as a sheet, stammered out an excuse. Ariadne thought it was rather impressive of Arabella to speak so coherently; most ten-year-olds would have burst into tears before their father in such a rage.

“Father, it wasn't me… Ariadne, it was Ariadne…!”

But being impressive and saying something she liked were two different things. Arabella's effort to shift the blame registered perfectly with Cardinal de Mare.

“Ariadne! You've only been back from the Bergamo estate for a few days, and you're already causing trouble like this!”

Arabella breathed a sigh of relief that a scapegoat had been found, and the maids gathered on the landing stared at Ariadne as if she were some strange foreigner. She had returned to the San Carlo estate from the countryside just one day ago, yet she had already injured Lucrezia's precious eldest daughter and incurred the Cardinal's wrath. The young lady's future looked bleak. But Ariadne, showing no fear, began to speak as if it were a pity, as if there had been a misunderstanding. Her demeanor was modest yet composed.

“Father, I am only sorry to have caused such a disturbance so soon after returning from the estate. Moreover, Sister Isabella was only injured while trying to help me…”

*‘Help me?’*

Isabella, who had been looking down, glanced up at Ariadne with suspicious eyes.

*‘What is she plotting?’*

Arabella scowled and glared at Ariadne. Ariadne ignored her sisters' piercing gazes and continued.

“Sister Isabella is truly kind, just as I heard so often while on the estate. She is indeed the most renowned lady of San Carlo. I had only just arrived, and I am sincerely grateful that she reached out to help me. However…”

Ariadne shot a glance at Arabella.

“I believe Arabella needs to be more careful with her conduct. She was playing around and pushed me, and Sister Isabella fell down the stairs trying to help me. At ten years old, she is no longer a child and should learn to carry herself with the decorum of a young lady.”

Arabella's face turned crimson, from her ears down. She had been confident that a naive country girl wouldn't be able to speak properly before the fearsome Cardinal de Mare, but Ariadne, as if her tongue were oiled, fearlessly recounted the events before the Cardinal.

“No! That's not it!”

Arabella shouted desperately. She knew all too well what her father was capable of when he was angry. She couldn't let herself become the youngest daughter who injured her father's beloved eldest.

“Sister Isabella wasn't trying to help her! She was just standing there when *she* pushed me toward Isabella! *She's* the one who hurt Sister Isabella!”

Ariadne didn't even bat an eyelash at Arabella's bold lie, merely bowing her head with a wounded expression. There was no objective evidence, only a single witness.

“Though I may have come from the countryside, I do not lie.”

Ariadne pointed a hand toward Isabella, who was still on the landing below.

“If you cannot believe me because I am unlearned and new here, then please ask Sister Isabella herself!”

Arabella was thrown into confusion.

*‘What kind of trick is this?’*

In contrast, Isabella—the villainess who had once seized and shaken the court of the Kingdom of Etruscan in her past life—had been a promising bud from the start. In the time it took to draw a single breath, Isabella collected herself, put on a pitiful expression, and dramatically lowered her head.

“Father…”

Isabella's decision was simple.

“I was trying to help Ariadne when I… fell…”

Isabella did not miss the opportunity to make herself look virtuous. She didn't forget to feign benevolence until the very end.

“Arabella was only playing, Father. Please don't be too harsh on her.”

In an instant, Arabella had been cast as the wicked child who tormented her kind half-sister, a stark contrast to the loving eldest sister. She stared at Isabella, her mouth agape. Isabella shyly lowered her head, and Ariadne inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

*‘Nothing has changed. That’s just like you, Isabella.’*

Whether it was her own sister or anyone else, Isabella was not the type to ever pass up an advantage. * * *

“Arabella! You will not leave your room for two weeks! You will pray, eating only dry bread and water!”

“Father! I really didn't do it!”

“Address me as ‘Your Eminence’! How dare you call me ‘Father’! If you’re caught in a lie, you should at least repent! What? You didn't do it? Another week for talking back! You will pray for three weeks!”

Arabella trembled, staring at the floor. Isabella avoided her sister's gaze, continuously rubbing her ankle.

“Call a doctor for Isabella. And where is that woman, Lucrezia! How in the world has she been raising these children!”

The house was in complete chaos. Ariadne, who had so effectively sown the seeds of discord in the Cardinal's residence on her very first day back, smiled to herself.

*‘So… it works?’*

At the sound of the booming voice echoing from the landing, everyone in the household, except for Ariadne, fell silent and stared at the floor. Cardinal de Mare, displeased even by this, stomped his foot.

“What are you all standing around gawking at! I’m displeased with all of you, tsk!”

He flicked the hem of his white robe and slammed the drawing room door shut behind him. Isabella, though she'd traded an injured ankle for it, seemed quite satisfied with the opportunity to appear virtuous in front of everyone. With a gentle expression, she let the maids help her to her room on the second floor. Just before being dragged away by the head maid, Arabella ground her teeth, glaring at Ariadne with venomous eyes.

“Don't think this is over!”

Ariadne simply offered a placid smile.

“You poor thing.”

“What?”

“Father and Mother only love Sister Isabella.”

Arabella's face turned beet red as she trembled with rage.

“What would someone like you know! You know nothing!”

“Young Lady, let's go. If you make a scene here, His Eminence the Cardinal will scold you again.”

Unable to resist the head maid's urging, Arabella was led away. As Arabella was dragged off, her shouts of "lowly," "ugly," and "uncouth," among other insults, echoed down the hall. Ariadne dusted off the hem of her dress, composing herself. In the space now emptied of everyone, only a few nameless maids busying themselves with cleaning up and the red-haired maid, Maletta, who had been standing guard at the Cardinal's drawing room door, remained. Ariadne looked at Maletta, whose attitude was now even more polite than before, and smiled brightly.

“Well, shall we go?”

* * * Cardinal de Mare had ordered that Ariadne receive the same education as his other two daughters, but with Isabella bedridden with a sprained ankle and Arabella confined for three weeks, Ariadne was the only one left to study. Lucrezia, apparently loath to spend money on a tutor for Ariadne, told the usual tutor to take a month-long vacation and brought in a different one. This hadn't happened in her past life. It seemed Isabella's injury and Arabella's punishment had changed the course of events. Back then, she had just sat in on the other two's tutoring sessions, staring blankly through lessons that were far beyond her comprehension.

“This is Master Giovanni. He will teach you Latin and arithmetic. Behave yourself.”

Master Giovanni was a man in his thirties who looked to be in poor health. His nose was red and his pores were prominent, as if he were pickled in wine. The stench of a drunkard assailed her nose. Ariadne looked at Master Giovanni with suspicion. It was obvious he was not a proper tutor. Besides, why was she told his first name and not his surname?

“Mother, how could I possibly address the master by his first name? What is Master Giovanni's family name?”

Lucrezia flared up in anger.

“Stop with the nonsense and just study! If I say Giovanni, then it's Giovanni! Why must you talk so much!”

Lucrezia reacted sensitively to the trivial question, as if she had something to hide. The man called Master Giovanni was even more suspicious, with his silly grin. He showed no displeasure at being told to be called by his first name rather than a more formal title, merely nodding his head.

*‘Something smells fishy.’*