Chapter 86

Ipolito looked up at his friend, then puffed out another cloud of smoke from his pipe. He had become deeply engrossed in tobacco lately. This herb imported from the Moorish Empire had become wildly popular among the wealthy students studying at the University of Padua. At first, it was said to sharpen the mind and aid in studies, which is why it became a trend. However, later on, the roles were reversed, and without smoking, his hands would tremble, making it impossible to concentrate on his studies.

“Hey, give me a puff.”

Without hesitation, Ipolito handed the pipe, filled with tobacco worth at least one ducat (about 1 million won), to his friend standing next to him. The friend, delighted to get free tobacco, eagerly sucked on the pipe.

“Why do you look so pale? What’s wrong?”

There was no way to light a cigarette without a match. Ipolito, understanding his friend’s flattery, sighed.

“I might have to go back to San Carlo because of something big happening at home. I might not be able to graduate.”

“Huh? Did your family go bankrupt?”

The friend asked, startled. "Will I lose my free tobacco?" No, for someone who’s bankrupt, that’s a lot of spending. Ipolito shook his head in response.

“My mother has had a big problem. She was kicked out of the house. I might have to go back to San Carlo.”

The friend made a very rational point.

“What does your going back have to do with your mother being kicked out? Will your mother come back if you don’t graduate?”

They had an immediate challenge. The final exams were just around the corner.

“You’re in the middle of the semester’s final exams. You only have one semester left.”

Ipolito, angered by his friend’s correct words, burst out.

“You little brat, you’re making me a complete filial traitor. My mother was kicked out of the house, how can I concentrate on my studies?”

He glared at his friend.

“Right now, a university degree isn’t the issue.”

Seeing Ipolito suddenly playing the filial son, the friend was flabbergasted. Ipolito’s usual behavior was as far from filial as the distance from the northernmost point of the central continent, the Sternheim Castle, to the southernmost point, the Tarento Port. However, the friend, having received something, suppressed the urge to argue.

Ipolito’s grades were lacking. He had registered for all the special courses, sparing no gold coins, but he always failed to meet the attendance requirements, making it uncertain whether he could graduate.

“I have to go back home. It’s a shame I can’t get my degree because of my mother, but there will be another chance later.”

“Yeah, you’re such a filial son.”

Ipolito, seemingly upset by his friend’s response, felt he needed to prove he was filial.

“My father is really over the top. Even if my mother did something wrong, how could he send her to the farm? I have to go back home and talk to him.”

“Are you really going? Even if you don’t take the final exams, if you submit the report by next week, you might still graduate.”

“Don’t do that. It’s not right to abandon your mother.”

Ipolito got up from his seat. The thought of groveling to the professor to replace the exam with a report was unbearable. He had already groveled too much to the professor and didn’t want to go near him again.

The friend looked at Ipolito, wondering if he was serious, but Ipolito was very serious.

“I’m going, to San Carlo.”

* * *

As the old saying goes, “Flowers do not stay red for ten days, and power does not last for ten years.” Malleta was experiencing this saying firsthand. Ariadne was clearly a rotten rope, and Isabella, whom she had taken in, was the smoothest of smooth roads.

Malleta firmly believed that Isabella would marry a high-ranking official, or even a prince, and take her as a lady-in-waiting to the palace. To make a lady-in-waiting out of a maid, a minor baron title would be necessary. A maid from the Rambure orphanage becoming a minor baron!

‘Oh, such an honor, I never even dreamed of it!’

This was the fantasy she had every night before falling asleep on her straw mattress in the third-floor maid’s room. But now it seemed this fantasy would remain just that.

“Malleta! Isabella is locked up all day, so what else do you do besides bringing her meals? Stop loafing around and come clean the floor! You have to earn your keep!”

Teresa, the head maid, yelled and threw a rag at Malleta. Teresa, who was vying for the vacant position of head maid, was the supervisor and cleaner of the third-floor maids.

- * * *

The smelly rag flew through the air. The wet rag narrowly missed Malleta’s face and landed on her shoulder. Feeling suddenly dirty, Malleta glared at Teresa.

Five feet (about 1.5 meters) behind Teresa, Sancha stood with her arms crossed, looking triumphant—so it seemed to Malleta.

‘Teresa, who has her eyes on the head maid position, is definitely watching Sancha’s every move!’

Malleta clenched her teeth and picked up the rag.

“Make it shine! The other girls are busy! You have to clean the third-floor maid’s room too!”

This was clearly unfair treatment.

‘I can’t even fight back!’

Cleaning the third-floor maid’s room was a job for newbies. It was a thankless task, and if anything went missing, she would get blamed. Malleta, a veteran of four years and a close maid to the young lady, had no time for such menial tasks.

“Are you glaring? Do you want to be beaten and kicked out for insubordination?”

Teresa threatened. If Malleta was reported for insubordination, she would be taken to Ariadne, and the outcome was obvious.

Malleta, suppressing her boiling humiliation, took the rag and started scrubbing the floor, her head bowed.

‘Sancha must be enjoying my humiliation.’

Sancha, who was supposed to be supervising, was making her clean the floor. I’m the senior and the veteran! It was frustrating and unfair.

‘I’ll get back at her someday!’

* * *

Sancha, who was mistakenly thought to be enjoying Malleta’s suffering, didn’t even see Malleta cleaning the floor. Sancha was not the type to gloat over others’ misfortune, and there was something far more annoying on her mind.

“...Oh, Sancha, what a coincidence.”

‘What coincidence? I waited for three hours!’

Sancha looked up and down at Giuseppe, the new head of the guard, with a disdainful expression. Giuseppe was tall, had a few freckles like Sancha, and had light brown hair like straw.

Everyone said Giuseppe was good at his job, but the way he was wasting time during a busy period didn’t inspire confidence.

“Do you have nothing to do? Should I tell the young lady to reduce the number of guards and increase their workload?”

Giuseppe was startled by Sancha’s sharp words.

“No, that’s not it.”

He pulled out a small, wrapped item from his pocket. It was about the size of a palm.

“Here, take this.”

Sancha took the item and unwrapped it. It was a cookie covered in sugar. Sugar was expensive, and in most noble households, such desserts were only served to guests.

The cookie had been in Giuseppe’s hand for a while, and the sugar coating was slightly melted.

“I got it by chance and couldn’t eat it all. We met by chance, so it’s good. You eat it.”

‘Got it by chance, my foot. The wrapper has “La Mongtan Confectionery” stamped on it. It’s a new confectionery shop in town with long lines, high prices, and limited stock. This is something Giuseppe would buy after waiting in line for hours and give to a girl he likes, not as a gift to a friend.’

But Sancha was only fourteen, and no matter how cunning, she hadn’t experienced a regression like her mistress. She was a novice in matters of courtship and love, and she never refused food.

“Hmm. Sure, I’ll eat it.”

Giuseppe’s face lit up. Sancha, wondering why he was so happy, took a bite of the cookie.

* * *

The house was in a state of unrest. Ariadne gestured to the butler, Niccolo.

“What’s going on?”

“Miss... Ipolito is coming back.”

Niccolo handed Ariadne a parchment letter. It was addressed to Cardinal de Mare, and the handwriting on the envelope was clearly sloppy.

Ariadne smiled mechanically.

“So, it’s happening.

“When is he expected to return?”

“Early next month, around the New Year’s Festival.”

“I see. We need to prepare a suitable room and get ready to welcome my brother.”

She handed the letter back to Niccolo and returned to her room on the second floor, which was originally Ipolito’s, the best room in the western wing.

Sancha followed her in, looking anxious.

“Miss, surely... when Ipolito returns, ‘Miss Rossi’ will also return, and Isabella will be released, right?”

“Hmm. That’s likely.”

“Is it okay for us to just stand by?”

Sancha seemed very worried. But Ariadne smiled calmly at her.

“Let’s not worry about useless things. Let’s talk about something interesting. How much do you hate Malleta?”

Sancha was surprised by the sudden change of topic.

“Why Malleta, all of a sudden?”

“Your answer could be that you want to take revenge on Malleta, or that she is your last remaining blood relative and you want to forgive her. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Malleta had once sold Ariadne to Lucrezia, owing Ariadne a debt. But before that, Malleta had abandoned Sancha at the Rambure orphanage, leaving her to starve. No matter how you calculated it, Ariadne’s grudge against Malleta was smaller than Sancha’s.

Therefore, Ariadne decided to let Sancha choose whether to take revenge or not.

“Ugh!”

Sancha’s emerald eyes sparked with anger.

“Malleta must pay for what she did!”

“Really?”

“It’s because of her that... my mother... my mother passed away. And Malleta is the type of person who would do the same thing again if she went back in time. I will never forgive her.”

Determination flowed from Sancha’s face. Ariadne nodded. Since Sancha had made her decision, she would make it happen.

Ariadne shook the bell to call a maid. She instructed the maid to call Niccolo, and when he entered, she gave a series of instructions.

“Ipolito’s room should be next to the one Lucrezia used to use. And we need a dedicated servant for him.”

“Of course.”

“I understand that Malleta, who was Isabella’s close maid, is currently idle. I will assign Malleta as Ipolito’s dedicated servant.”

Both Niccolo and Sancha looked at Ariadne in surprise.

“Is there any objection?”

“No! Of course not.”

Niccolo bowed deeply. The authority of the golden seal representing the mistress was formidable.

“I will handle it as you command. Have a good afternoon.”

After Niccolo left, Sancha, with wide eyes, asked Ariadne.

“Miss! Isn’t this a reward rather than revenge?”

Sancha was so flustered that her tongue tied.

“She’s been suffering enough on the third floor! This is practically a promotion! Besides, serving Ipolito...”

It was a position Malleta would likely want. In her previous life, Malleta had seduced a married court official and became his mistress, improving her fortune.

Ariadne smiled.

“I’m giving her a position she would like.”

“Why?”

“Malleta is a villain, right?”

“Of course!”

“Ipolito is a villain so great that Malleta can’t even hold a candle to him. A small villain next to a big villain is bound to be devoured.”

Ariadne explained carefully to Sancha.

“To Malleta, Ipolito is a poisoned chalice. Touching it means certain death.”

Sancha, not understanding what she meant, tilted her head, and Ariadne, not knowing how the future would unfold, also tilted her head.

“Of course, a strong person could resist Ipolito’s temptation... but can our dear Malleta do that?”

* * *

Ipolito returned to the de Mare mansion on the last day of 1122, when the house was bustling with preparations for the New Year’s Festival. On the first day of the new year, the family would wake up early, go to the grand cathedral for the New Year’s prayer, and return to a grand lunch at home. Therefore, even at midnight, the servants were busy preparing for the festival.

“Hey, you!”

In the Etruscan Kingdom, there was a superstition about the New Year’s Festival. The first person to step into the house in the new year determined the family’s fortune for the year. It was a kind of good luck charm.

A young, energetic man entering the house meant good fortune for the year, while an old person, a woman, or a child meant bad fortune.

A dark-haired or light-haired person entering meant good fortune, while a red-haired or washed-out brown-haired person meant bad fortune.

The servant who first saw Ipolito couldn’t decide whether the de Mare family’s fortune for the year would be good or bad and stood there for a moment. Ipolito was clearly a young man, but he had a sinister look like a wolf that hadn’t eaten for a month, with washed-out ash-gray hair and a sallow complexion, giving no sign of vitality.

Is this a young man, meaning good fortune for the year, or a withered gray biscuit, meaning bad fortune?

“Slow, useless trash!”

The servant, unable to respond quickly, was met with Ipolito’s anger as he threw his bag into the entrance. Various decorations on the front door were crushed and fell off.

Ah, this is bad fortune. The fortune for the year will be very bad. The servant ran inside to announce that the young master had arrived.