Chapter 44

Isabella stood at the classroom door, took a deep breath, and firmly held the letter containing the secret given to her by her mother. It felt as if she were about to fly into the sky. Although she was disappointed not to be able to stand at the center of the stage, she had danced with Prince Alfonso himself, while Ariadne had only danced with Count Cesare! Isabella's friends gathered around her, eager to hear her story.

“Isabella! Dancing with the prince, that’s really amazing!”

Leonti, the young lady of the Leonti family, who was always rough but genuinely followed Isabella, exclaimed. Isabella, feeling proud, flicked her bangs. Camellia, the young lady of the Camellia de Castiglione family, who had just praised Ariadne and belittled Isabella, now subtly praised Isabella.

“Your dress is so beautiful too. Is this from Collegione?”

Isabella’s nose rose. It wasn’t from Collegione, but rather, a new organza dress she had managed to get made by offering a 50 ducat premium, which no one could easily reserve. The layers of her round skirt looked like precious candy.

“How did you manage to get a reservation?”

The smug Isabella began to lie without even wetting her lips.

“Well, I thought I wouldn’t be able to get a reservation because I made it a bit late. But then Madame Clemente said, ‘It would be nice if Lady Isabella de Mare wore our clothes, so would you make a dress for her?’”

In fact, as soon as the date for Ariadne’s debutante ball was announced, Isabella had contacted Collegione. However, she received a reply saying it would be difficult due to the backlog of reservations. But Isabella didn’t give up. She contacted Collegione again and asked if they would make a 50 ducat (approximately 50 million won) high-end dress instead of the usual 20-30 ducat (approximately 2-30 million won) dress, and managed to secure a slot. She kept this a secret. The girls, unaware of this, screamed in envy.

“Anyone would think Lady Isabella is the star of this ball!”

Leonti, who brought up this topic, meant it as a compliment, but Isabella, sensing the potential for criticism, responded humbly.

“No, no. My sister Ariadne is so beautiful. I can’t even compare to her!”

“Beauty is proportional to modesty!”

“Lady, if you say that, what will Little de Mare be?”

The compliments were exhilarating, like food for the soul. Isabella, enjoying the feeling of being superior to Ariadne, put on a seemingly kind act for her friends. At that moment, Julia de Valdesar, the young lady of the Valdesar family, asked a sharp question.

“But Lady de Mare, is it appropriate to wear white at your sister’s debutante ball?”

Isabella, who had a perfect alibi, smiled sweetly and recited the answer like a parrot.

“My sister and I are so close that she asked me to wear a white dress to match her.”

If the person herself says it’s fine, what can a third party say? Isabella added with a warm smile.

“Our Ariadne is so affectionate.”

This seemed like a compliment to Ariadne, but it was actually a way to elevate herself. A loving sister who is so kind as to give up her own dress for her beloved sister. Julia couldn’t retort and closed her mouth. She couldn’t ask Ariadne directly, as they weren’t close. Even the high-nosed Julia de Valdesar was silenced, making it a truly good day.

* * *

Everything has an end. Ariadne’s seemingly endless first waltz finally came to a close as the orchestra’s bows stopped. Ariadne bowed to Cesare and quickly fled from her partner. She not only disliked being with Cesare but also felt uncomfortable with her dress.

‘Should I go to the powder room...?’

Ariadne, considering whether to return to her room on the second floor to rest, saw Prince Alfonso. At the same moment, Alfonso also spotted her and approached with a bright smile.

“Ariadne!”

“Alfonso!”

Ariadne smiled brightly, genuinely grateful to see the prince.

“I thought you had left.”

Alfonso’s position had indeed become awkward with Cesare’s appearance. In a strict sense, he might have been embarrassed. For a fussy noble, it would have been enough to storm out in a rage. But Alfonso stayed, showing consideration for the hosts.

“I couldn’t leave without dancing a waltz with the guest of honor.”

Alfonso smiled and extended his right hand.

“What do you say, my lady? Would you grant me the honor of a waltz?”

Alfonso was also dressed in a pure white debutante partner’s outfit. Ariadne, unable to say, “I need to go to the bathroom, let’s dance later,” took his hand. The orchestra began the second waltz, and they glided into the center of the main hall, starting to dance.

“Did Count Cesare not harass you?”

Ariadne shook her head, following Alfonso’s lead, remembering the time Cesare had yelled at her in the garden of the Cibo family.

“No, he was unusually gentlemanly today.”

Alfonso, sensing something was off, frowned. Ariadne’s counter-question flew at him.

“By the way, how was your first dance?”

“Me? I danced with your sister.”

A dark cloud passed over Ariadne’s face. The beautiful Isabella, the enchantress who could make any man lose his senses.

“What do you think? Isn’t my sister beautiful?”

Ariadne didn’t like probing, but the words slipped out. The ease she had developed over nine years as the regent’s fiancée and a socialite vanished when it came to Isabella. Alfonso’s response came to the self-critical Ariadne.

“Beautiful? She doesn’t look like you.”

Ariadne, expecting a more emotional response, couldn’t help but add.

“Everyone says my sister is very beautiful.”

“Really? Ah, she does look a bit different from an ordinary person.”

Isabella had an unusually slender figure, large puppy-like eyes, and delicate features. She stood out in a crowd of ten thousand. But Alfonso didn’t seem particularly moved.

“I don’t know.”

Alfonso, living in the palace, had seen countless beautiful things. Beautiful faces, beautiful wardrobes, beautiful fans, and beautiful jewels. While he might enjoy the sight, to Alfonso, such beauty was ultimately replaceable. Beauty fades with age, and a younger, more beautiful beauty will always appear. Just as it’s foolish to stake one’s life on a wardrobe or a fan, it’s the same with beauty. Alfonso preferred something higher. Noble spirit, lofty pride, chivalry that doesn’t compromise principles, and noblesse oblige that sacrifices oneself. Only values that endure the test of time captivated him. The endless wit of the black-haired girl before him was one of those things. But was it the only one?

Ariadne made a large turn to the music. Alfonso lifted his hand to give her space, and Ariadne raised her hand as well.

- *Rip*

Ariadne felt something was wrong. The hooks on her back, when pulled, split apart like straw, and the cotton fabric began to unravel. At the same time, the seam in the center of her dress, unable to withstand the pressure from inside, tore open.

- *Tear*

With a loud noise, the front of her dress burst open, revealing her ample cleavage.

Ariadne, startled, froze like a statue amidst the waltz. Standing alone among the dozens of dancing pairs, she stood out even more. People soon noticed.

- “Oh!”

- “Is her dress really torn?!”

- “Goodness, her cleavage is completely exposed.”

“Wow, that’s something!”

Among them, someone whistled openly. It was Janobi de Rossi.

Janobi’s behavior was not only unacceptable in the San Carlo social circle but also in the entire Etruscan kingdom. Not only the ladies but also the gentlemen glared at the boorish Janobi.

- “Who is that rude person?”

- “His attitude is completely that of a country bumpkin.”

Janobi, realizing his mistake, shrank his neck like a turtle and hurriedly left the ballroom. The ballroom was in chaos. At that moment, Alfonso draped his ceremonial cloak over the frozen Ariadne. The white cloak, like a flower petal, spread across the ballroom and then shrank to envelop Ariadne.

“Excuse me, I need to pass.”

Alfonso, holding Ariadne in one arm, tried to head to the powder room at the back of the ballroom but stopped when he saw other young ladies crowded there. He asked Ariadne.

“The powder room is crowded. Should we go there anyway?”

Ariadne, hearing “crowded,” wriggled in the cloak. The first-floor powder room was already filled with Isabella’s friends, causing a commotion.

“To the second floor, to my room.”

Alfonso took Ariadne to her room at the end of the west wing on the second floor. Opening the door to Ariadne’s parlor, Sancha and other close maids rushed to take Ariadne from Alfonso’s arms.

“Miss, I’ll get a robe!”

Sancha, after seating Ariadne on the parlor sofa, ran into the wardrobe. Anna, seeing Ariadne’s tear-streaked face, hurried to get makeup, and Maria ran to get tea to calm her. In the parlor, Alfonso finally realized that Ariadne was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Ariadne, are you okay?”

Alfonso, unable to find a handkerchief, used his sleeve to wipe the tears streaming down Ariadne’s face. Ariadne, sobbing, managed to say one word.

“Embarrassing...”

In Ariadne’s mind, Isabella’s words echoed.

- “Your breasts are so large and sagging, they look like a cow’s.”

A private part that a proper lady should hide was exposed to everyone. Moreover, Ariadne thought it was truly ugly and shameful. She automatically replayed the imagined criticisms in her mind.

- “She’s really ugly.”

- “A woman with nothing to offer is just trying to attract men.”

- “A shameless daughter of a lowly maid!”

- “She’s showing off her cow-like breasts to seduce Cesare.”

Alfonso, seeing Ariadne crying uncontrollably, wrapped her in his cloak and held her in his arms. When Alfonso was a child and cried, Queen Marguerite always held him like this. Passing on warmth was the best way to comfort someone, as Alfonso knew.

“Don’t cry, Ariadne. It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

As Alfonso rhythmically patted Ariadne’s back, her sobs gradually subsided. Seeing that she had calmed down, Alfonso gently looked at her tear-streaked face.

“Are you feeling better now?”

Ariadne sniffled and nodded. But the worry kept coming.

“Everyone must have seen. It must have been so ugly...”

Alfonso’s answer to both questions was “No.”

“It was very quick. Not many people would have seen it. And ugly? What do you mean?”

Ariadne couldn’t bring herself to say “sagging breasts.” Alfonso continued to comfort her.

“Many older ladies wear such deep necklines these days! It’s just a fashion.”

Ariadne, peeking under the cloak, checked how much her dress had torn. Alfonso, blushing, turned his head away. The neckline was torn open to just above her navel, revealing her ample cleavage above her prominent ribs. Ariadne’s face fell again. Alfonso, without thinking, spoke the truth.

“Yes, it was beautiful.”

That’s why I covered you with the cloak. I didn’t want anyone else to see. I want to be the only one who sees you. I don’t want to share your beauty with anyone else.

Ariadne, hearing this, looked up at Alfonso. Alfonso’s face turned bright red, and Ariadne, speechless, closed her mouth.