It was good until he made friends with the prince and returned home wearing the new clothes the queen gave him, but it was a problem to deal with that. Unsurprisingly, Cardinal de Mare's residence was a mess due to the rampage of the enraged Lucrezia.
"Miss De Rossi? Miss De Rossi?! Queen Margaret is crazy, how could she treat me like this?!" - Clink! A vase thrown by Lucrezia split the drawing room.
"Dirty Gallico Kingdom year! Speaking of foreigners, how dare you say that to an Etruscan?!'
This time, the letter-opening knife he had thrown away flew off and crashed into the stove. Arabella was in the corner of her parlour, covering her ears and trembling, while Isabella was beside her, eagerly encouraging her mother.
"that's right. Is it all about the queen? It's been 20 years since you got married, but you still can't fix a single accent? When you opened your mouth, you were surprised at how cheesy you were!"
"I don't even think about adapting like that, so I can't receive love from my husband! I can't hold on to that king's affection, so I'm afraid I'll see my husband's face five times a year!"
"Is legal marriage a big deal? If you're going to live as a concubine and not receive love with the barley bag you borrowed like that, I'd rather just have a concubine!"
"An incompetent bitch is cursing women who know men's hearts well out of a sense of qualifications for no reason because she has no ability!"
The indictment of the two was point-and-drop.
"Countess Rubina is actually a real powerhouse. Rumor has it that if she wants to put a petition to His Majesty at court, the fastest way is through Ruby or the Countess."
"You are better than this mother. There are no wives to interact with, and oh my dear!"
"How good is Countess Rubina's resourcefulness. She says that this time she is bestowing her frontier fief to Count Cesare, who was born to Countess Rubina."
"If Count Cesare, the son of a concubine, is older than the prince born of the queen, who is the head of the household, you have seen everything. Queen Marguerite, how is she going to capture the king who she couldn't control even when she was young! Alfonso hasn't even been crowned crown prince yet! It's all because the mother is incompetent! ."
"So you're just taking out your anger on your mom! I'm not a person! low heat! Messy!"
'I heard you introduce yourself well.'
Ariadne had no intention of getting involved in the mess. If he went in now, he would be nothing more than a piece of meat thrown in front of a hungry hyena. Lucrezia in her rage and Isabella in search of her kindling were sure to tear her to pieces.
'I have to go up to my room quietly.'
To go up from the front door to the attic on the 3rd floor, you had to climb the central stairs, but the first-floor reception room was right next to the entrance of the central stairs. Ariadne decided to hide in the hallway on the first floor and wait until they broke down and vacated the drawing room and went into her room. She didn't have a mother-daughter relationship where she would take care of what time her second daughter came home anyway, so she wouldn't even notice if her coming home was late or not.
"Why isn't this girl coming in!"
'ah… … .'
It seemed that he was waiting for the target to vent his anger, rather than taking care of the time he returned home. As soon as Maleta had left Lucrezia to ask her governess and left her drawing room, she ran into Ariadne hiding in the hallway.
"ah… … , Miss Ariadne is here."
'Not flexible enough!'
Ariadne glared at Maleta terribly and cursed inwardly, moving heavy steps into the drawing room where household goods were falling apart in real time. - Shoo! As soon as she entered the drawing room, white porcelain flew past Ariadne's face. - Clink! Ariadne bowed her head expressionlessly, feeling the pottery shattered against the wall and the fragments sticking to her hair and the hem of her dress.
"I'm home. mother."
"mother? your mother? I must have humiliated you so much at the Queen's Mass because you thought so much of me as a mother!"
When Lucrezia was angry, she was not allowed to talk back. But Ariadne had always forgotten that part since she was young. She had to respond instinctively.
"I didn't do anything, mother."
"Speak! if not! I hate you! Not!"
Lucrezia picked up the poker and threw it at Ariadne. I managed to turn my head to the left to avoid the poker spinning in the air, but it flew in the direction of Arabella crouching behind me and hit Arabella's leg.
"Aagh!"
The ten-year-old howled and howled like a beast, but no one paid any attention to the hapless Arabella. Lucrezia, consumed by her rage, didn't care that her own child had been hit by the poker she had thrown. All she had was the sobbing Arabella. Ariadne frowned at her, took a step back, squatted down, and took Arabella into her arms. I wonder if her fifteen-year-feeble, old's skinny limbs were of much comfort, but Arabella was sensible at all, and she rushed into her arms. Human warmth was a comfort not only to Arabella but also to Ariadne. But the looming threat was too great to find peace of mind with such things. Lucrezia, standing with her legs spread imposingly in front of Ariadne, who was stroking Arabella, pushed his upper body against him, her eyes glinting.
"you! Chemise, did you do that on purpose?"
'Your sense for a stupid subject is amazing.'
Ariadne calmly shook her head from side to side in admiration for Lucrezia, who had only asserted it without any grounds, but who had accurately touched the truth.
"Could that be? Absolutely not, Mother."
Ariadne bowed her head deeper, pretending to be kind, and at the same time straightened her posture proudly. What Ariadne was wearing was a dress and decorations, except for the chemise that Queen Marguerite had sent to her, all of which were cheap items sent to Ariadne by Lucrezia.
"It was really the only clothes I had."
It was a blatant lie. Ariadne thought that right after he said those words, the last joint of his left ring finger was throbbing. It was a new finger that had rotted away due to the disease that had taken Cesare's place, and then returned. Lucrezia's eyes widened as she scanned her surroundings.
"Who is the bitch responsible for this kid's clothes? What year did you eat it?"
The maids in the room all turned their heads and avoided Lucrecia's gaze. However, Maleta's expression was a bit unusual. The way she looked around her head and fidgeted with her hand seemed to be contemplating whether or not to do something. Ariadne caught her breath. She looked like she was about to do something.
'I'm going to order it in advance... … !'
Threat? appeasement? Maleta, whom he had seen all his life in his previous life, was the kind of person who risked his life for trivial gains. He wasn't giving the chemise to Sancha. If he would give it to Sancha, he should have given Maletha a hint of future gain. thought was short.
'Please, please just go smoothly... … !'
As if aware of Ariadne's anxious and anxious eyes, Maleta lowered her head, and after about three seconds, as if making up her mind, pointed her finger at Sancha standing next to her.
"That's it, kid!"
The lifeless green eyes of Sancha, the freckled girl, widened to the size of a lantern.
"This is the one who manages Ariadne's clothes!"
Lucrezia's high cheekbones pulled up nervously. Ariadne couldn't help but let out a visceral sigh of relief at the fact that she had escaped, and Sancha involuntarily took a step back in fright.
"You must have stolen that bitch's underwear."
"no. No, madam."
Leaving Sancha shaking her hand, Lucrezia gave Maletta an order while gnashing her teeth.
"If you stole the expensive chemise that the lady wears because you wanted it, it must be in the items of this maid. Maletha, go look for it and come!"
"Yes, madam!"
Maleta very gladly accepted the order. Watching the back of her as she quickly ran up to the third floor where the maids lived, Lucrezia growled, threatening the frozen Sancha.
"You, be prepared if that bitch's chemise comes out of your luggage."
Ariadne was conflicted over whether she should tell the truth even now. I don't know what thoughts were going through Maletha's little head, but Ariadne was freed from the charge of intentionally slandering Lucrezia. However, it was Ariadne who proposed to change the chemise, and Sancha was about to be hacked to pieces without guilt. Even if Sancha claimed innocence, there was no way Lucrezia would believe it. Because Ariadne's chemise will indeed come out of Sancha's luggage. I already believe it in my head, but if there is even evidence to support it, that belief cannot be moved. At this rate, there was no doubt that Sancha would become the victim of Lucrezia. Ariadne, however, did not have the courage to jump in front of Lucrezia and tell the truth. He thought he had forgotten after nine years of being a socialite ruler, but Lucrezia's growl evoked a childhood fear that was deeply imprinted in Ariadne's bones. His mother being whipped by Lucrezia. The memory of Lucrezia kicking Ariadne's mother who hid the young Ariadne behind her body and grabbing Ariadne's hair. The memory of Ippolito, the eldest son of Lucrezia, patting Ariadne's mother on the buttocks. She was a mother who nonetheless never protested. On a rainy day, I was kneeling down and crying in front of my mother's wooden coffin, and when I passed by the barn where Lucrezia had placed the coffin as a substitute for a funeral hall, I was afraid that I would bump into Lucrezia, so I left my mother alone and ran away alone, the worst guilt in my life. memories I felt. - Ugh, black, black. The crouching sancha's back trembled and a cry leaked out. Sancha couldn't even close her eyes properly and shed tears like chicken droppings while suppressing the sound as much as possible with wide-open eyes. Ariadne's heart felt split in two between fear and remorse as she looked at the poor Sancha's back. When he pretended not to know because he was afraid, he felt very sorry for Sancha, and he raised his voice and stepped forward, but his mouth did not come out. The guilt she felt that day of leaving her mother's coffin behind and running off to the stable alone tore through her heart. Even so, it was never something that he could endure for a second, doing nothing and being frozen like an icicle. - Throb! The left ring finger was hot as if it had been burned. The hot blood that made up the new ring finger was swarming on the skin and expanding its area.
'… … it hurts!'
At first I heard hallucinations. It was a human voice, but not a human voice.
- Golden Rule.
A divine voice whispered, not from this world. The meaning came straight into my head, and I couldn't tell what the sound was like.
- Treat your neighbour as you would like to be treated. You were resentful and sad about the betrayal you suffered. Really, have you ever betrayed others and benefited from them?
It was like a whisper, but it was also like a whisper. While everyone in her parlour suffered, Maleta returned from her maids' quarters like lightning. Returning, Maleta triumphantly took a clean maiden's chemise from her old rag sack, which she held in her hand, and held it out to Lucrezia.
"That year is right. This came out of my luggage, ma'am."
Lucrezia took the chemise in one hand and threw it in the air, throwing it in the face of the kneeling Sancha.
"Do you have anything to say, you rat-like thief?"
Sancha just trembled with her mouth tightly shut and her hands clenched tightly. Embarrassed, Lucrezia picked up anything he could get her hands on and began tossing it at Sancha. The first thing he threw into the air was a paperweight, and the second thing he threw was an ink bottle. - Booung! - A very blue ink bottle flew through the air and hit Sancha on the forehead. Ink splattered into the air, filling the parlour with blue stains. Sancha's figure, covered in blue ink, was red with his hair, blue with ink, and green with his eyes full of resentment and a frown on his face. Lucrezia didn't stop there, picked up an ivory pen with a nib and began striking Sancha as far as his hand could go. - Puck Sancha was beaten without even making a sound of pain. But he couldn't hide the fact that his whole body trembled with each blow. Ariadne trembled like Sancha whenever Sancha hit one. Every time Sancha hit, to be precise, every time Ariadne turned away from Sancha being beaten, the scent of blood on the ring finger of his left hand blazed and burned. The red aura was definitely increasing in volume.
- Those who benefit from the suffering of the good will pay the price. That's the curse of the golden rule.
However, Ariadne did not know if the pain she felt now was purely because of the red aura, or if it was because the birth difference felt like it was her own. The moment Lucrezia's right arm holding the ivory pen holder rose high into the air, Ariadne couldn't stop screaming.
"stop!!"