Chapter 4

The decision had been made long ago, so the execution was swift. Ariadne, in her nightgown, was confined to the west tower of San Carlo Castle.

Sitting on the cold stone floor with only straw beneath her, the past 14 years flashed before her eyes like a series of fleeting images.

Cesare was particular, but he was a refreshing man like a summer breeze when his whims were indulged. They had spent a rather pleasant 14 years together.

Cesare was spontaneous. He would often come to play at the Cardinal de Mare's residence, put Ariadne behind his horse, and go for a ride. He would pick snowdrops from the forest path and give them to her.

"You are obedient and devoted to me alone."

The wildflower, with no place to turn, hung its head and looked at the ground, but at that time, she thought it was the highest praise.

From a distance, the music of the coronation ceremony of His and Her Majesty the King and Queen rang out joyfully. She had chosen and prepared all that music, thinking it would be for her own coronation.

She had believed that the day of her 14 years of dedication and love would finally be rewarded.

Ariadne's reverie was broken by a clear voice.

"Snowdrops that bloom outside are never treated as precious as roses grown in a greenhouse."

At the top of the west tower, the newly crowned queen, Isabella, had ascended.

Her golden hair was tied up with lavish pearls. A delicate lace veil, like dandelion seeds, was draped over her head, and the white silk dress she wore was layered like tulips, gently complementing her slender figure.

It was obvious that a lot of effort had gone into the dress, but it was the first time Ariadne had seen it. Isabella must have known about this day and had the dress made in advance.

There were many questions she wanted to ask. When did this start? Why? If Isabella wanted Cesare, why didn't she get engaged herself? Why now, after pushing it off to her?

Ariadne looked up at Isabella with a puzzled expression.

Sister, Isabella, raised her small chin and looked down at Ariadne.

Isabella was arrogant. The moment their eyes met, she pressed Ariadne.

"How dare you treat my husband like that?"

Ariadne habitually bowed her head and apologized. It was a response ingrained in her over the years.

"…If it's about Prince Alfonso, I'm sorry. I have nothing to say."

But it wasn't the answer Isabella wanted.

"I'm talking about Cesare, you fool. How dare you try to become queen while I'm here?"

'What?'

Shocked, Ariadne was mercilessly confronted by Isabella.

"I am the most noble woman in this country. You should have stepped down from the position of the regent's fiancée by now. Do I have to suffer because of a wretch like you?"

Isabella continued, fanning herself, as Ariadne, confused, listened.

"Father said the one to raise the de Mare name is me. You were just filling a seat. You've become too arrogant."

At this, Isabella's pretty face twisted slightly.

"Because of you, my name has been tarnished with rumors of being a widow and having a child. How will you make it right?"

Ariadne, overwhelmed by the absurdity, couldn't help but retort.

"Is that why you're angry? About Prince Alfonso… it doesn't matter?"

Always vowing not to, her words slipped out first.

"He treated you well, didn't he? Didn't you receive his love?"

"Love?"

Isabella smiled.

"All men treat me well. If I had to repay every man's feelings, I would have to love everyone like a prostitute?"

With her delicate features, Isabella, as if pouting, explained why Alfonso had to die, looking devilishly beautiful.

"Alfonso couldn't bring me the position of the most noble woman. That's reason enough for him to die."

Ariadne, pale, asked in return.

"Cesare… Do you love Cesare?"

Cesare was the most precious thing to her. More valuable than herself. She worshipped and protected Cesare, even at the cost of her own well-being.

But Isabella looked at Ariadne with eyes full of laughter, as if she had heard the funniest story.

"My dear, foolish sister. Life is a series of equal exchanges. Cesare made me queen. In return, I can now have him. It's a fair deal. Alfonso couldn't bring the price for my body, so the contract is terminated. There was no love in it."

Isabella's smile deepened. It was a radiant smile, like a rose made of wax, devoid of any warmth.

"Instead of love, there is desire. Before Alfonso died, Cesare came to me and begged. He said he had never forgotten me since our engagement. He said I appeared in his dreams. He said he imagined me while holding you."

"What?"

"You're too big, he said, like a man. Your hair is too dark, like a crow's."

Isabella's beautiful eyes gleamed with malice.

"Your chest is too large and droopy, he said, like a cow's."

Speechless, Ariadne watched as Isabella stroked her golden hair.

"Men like women who are small and fit in their arms, making them feel like they need to protect them. My hair is noble, like the golden hair of an angel in a holy book."

The small, emerald-eyed angel smiled wickedly. Isabella leaned in close to Ariadne's face and asked.

"Have you ever been the object of such hungry desire for anyone?"

Ariadne couldn't breathe, let alone speak. She wanted to shout that her Cesare, her beloved Cesare, would never do such a thing, but there were undeniable signs. His changed attitude after becoming regent, the engagement ring he no longer wore, his waning passion, and the postponed wedding date.

"This is the difference between you and me. Devoting your life to a man will get you nothing in return."

Isabella advised her stubborn sister. Whether the younger sister, who was about to die, would have the chance to use this advice was another matter.

"They don't know gratitude. Don't trust men."

Isabella pouted her full lips.

"Cesare must be going crazy wanting me now. But after a year, three years, he'll get tired of me."

It was a problem even the stunningly beautiful 32-year-old Isabella couldn't solve.

"Men are strange. They hate you when you scold them for something they deserve."

She continued, twirling a strand of her golden hair.

"Then he'll remember his loyal sister who served him for 14 years without a peep."

"…Loyal?"

"I don't like loose ends. Father taught me that it's safer to eliminate all possibilities. Don't you agree, my dear sister?"

Isabella raised her hand, and the Moorish knight, who followed her like a shadow, raised his sword.

"I'm going now. I have to attend the second part of the coronation ceremony."

The coronation was supposed to be Ariadne's.

"Make it quick and painless, Agostino. After all, she's my dear sister."

Isabella delivered her final taunt. Behind her small back, the Moorish knight, who followed her like a shadow, approached with his sword raised. His left eye glowed ominously red, the red light growing brighter like a lamp being turned up.

But Ariadne, too busy glaring at Isabella's retreating back, didn't notice the Moor's eye in detail.

It was so unfair that she couldn't even retort!

The Moor's scimitar swept past her wide-open eyes.

- Swish!

The pain in her neck, the gushing fountain of blood, and Isabella's small, retreating back.

Her face was hot with her own blood.

And then darkness.

She could have rested forever, but there was still much to do in the world. She couldn't close her eyes like this.

- The Golden Rule.

A faint, sobbing-like voice echoed in her ears.

- You must pay for your sins and receive the rewards of your good deeds. That is the Golden Rule.

I want that. I want it to be that way. Why isn't the world like that?

- Can you do it?

Ariadne nodded frantically. I will. I can. I will do it no matter what.

The voice seemed to chuckle, or perhaps another voice sounded sympathetic, but the heavy, drowsy feeling spread through her body, reaching her extremities, and Ariadne lost consciousness.

* * *

"Huff!"

Expecting the pain of a burn, she opened her eyes, but there was no pain. Instead, she saw the ceiling of an old wooden house with exposed beams. It was the farm where she had lived as a child.

'What's going on?'

Strangely, her body felt light. Ariadne raised her hands.

She saw thin arms and small hands, the skin smooth and youthful. It had been less than five minutes since she heard the cruel remarks about her man-like build and cow-like chest, so she instinctively looked down at her body.

Fortunately, the young, underdeveloped girl still had a flat chest, small breasts, and narrow shoulders.

'Oh my God.'

Ariadne leaped out of bed and ran to the old mirror. In the cheap, uneven mirror, a girl of about 15 stood.

She was tall and slender, with long black hair reaching her waist. Her green eyes shone brightly, staring at herself in the mirror.

It was her past self.

Except for two things.

Ariadne raised her hand and touched below her left eye. There was a bright red teardrop, something she didn't have before.

And there was her left ring finger, complete with the last joint she had cut off for Cesare.

Magically, the finger was intact, but the last joint, which she didn't have before, was slightly redder than the rest of her hand. A red flush swirled around the last joint of her left ring finger.

Ariadne's amazement was interrupted by an unwelcome visitor.

- Bang!

"Ariadne, you useless thing!"

A thin, old woman burst into Ariadne's room, shouting.

"The sun is high in the sky, and you're still being lazy!"

The old woman, wielding a broom, randomly hit Ariadne's head and neck.

"You can't even get up on time! Do you know how many people are starving because of you?"

Ariadne didn't know, but she was actually on cleaning duty today, so it had nothing to do with the meal. Even if she had tried to explain, the old woman, Zan Galliaccio, wouldn't have listened.

Beating young maids was Zan Galliaccio's hobby, and she especially enjoyed tormenting Ariadne.

The fact that the precious bloodline was rolling in the dirt like her, or even worse, always thrilled the spiteful old woman.

Ariadne raised her arms to protect her face. The broom hit her arms and face in sequence, stinging and painful. The past was repeating itself.

The spring day of her 15th year. The day she was thrown into the savage world of high society without a guardian.

Today was the day Ariadne was summoned to the Cardinal's residence at San Carlo Castle.