Sister, I'm the Queen This Life (330 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 4
The decision had been made long ago, so execution was swift. Ariadne was confined to the western tower of San Carlo Castle, still in her nightgown.
Sitting on the cold stone floor with only straw beneath her, memories of the past flashed before her eyes like scenes from a revolving lantern.
Cesare had been fussy, but once she adjusted to him, he was as refreshing as a summer breeze. They had spent a remarkably pleasant fourteen years together.
Cesare was impulsive. He would often visit her at Cardinal de Mare’s residence, lift Ariadne onto the back of his horse, and take her for strolls through the woods. There, he would pick lily-of-the-valley flowers and hand them to her.
“You’re so obedient and think only of me—that’s just like you.”
The helpless wildflower hung her head, staring at the ground—utterly pitiful. Yet back then, she believed those words were the highest praise.
From afar, the festive music of Their Majesties the King and Queen’s coronation echoed cheerfully. She had personally selected and arranged every note of that music. She had believed it would be her own coronation.
She had thought this day would be the reward for fourteen years of devotion and love.
Ariadne’s reverie was shattered by a clear, ringing voice.
“Wild lily-of-the-valley flowers blooming outside will never be treated as preciously as roses grown in a greenhouse.”
At the top of the western tower stood the newly crowned queen, Isabella. Her ash-blond hair was gathered into a single elegant coil, lavishly adorned with pearls. Over it rested a delicate lace veil as fine as dandelion fluff.
Her white silk dress overlapped like tulip petals, tenderly complementing her slender frame. It was obviously crafted with great care—and yet, it was a gown Ariadne had never seen before. Clearly, Isabella had anticipated this day and commissioned the dress well in advance.
Ariadne had countless questions. Since when? Why? If you wanted Cesare all along, why not become engaged to him yourself instead of pushing him onto me, claiming you didn’t want him? And now, why this?
Ariadne looked up at Isabella, her face full of confusion. Her elder sister, Isabella, lifted her delicate chin and gazed down at Ariadne. The moment their eyes met, Isabella pressed forward aggressively.
“How dare you treat my husband like that?”
Out of habit, Ariadne instinctively lowered her head and apologized immediately. It was a reflex ingrained over many years.
“…I’m sorry about Prince Alfonso. I have nothing to say in my defense.”
But that wasn’t the answer Isabella wanted.
“I’m talking about Cesare, you fool! How dare you try to become queen while I’m still here?”
“What?”
Stunned, Ariadne could only stare as Isabella relentlessly lashed out.
“I am the noblest woman in this kingdom! By now, you should’ve known better than to step down from your position as the Regent Duke’s fiancée. Must I truly suffer this much because of a wretched creature like you?”
Leaving Ariadne reeling in confusion, Isabella fanned herself leisurely and continued.
“Even Father said it—the daughter meant to elevate the name de Mare is me. You were only ever meant to fill the seat temporarily. How utterly arrogant of you.”
Isabella’s beautiful face twisted slightly.
“Because of you, my name has been dragged through the mud—people whisper that I’m a widow, that I once carried a child. How do you plan to take responsibility for this?”
Overwhelmed by belated outrage, Ariadne found herself retorting without thinking.
“So you’re angry about that? But Prince Alfonso… doesn’t that matter to you at all?”
Despite her repeated vows never to defy Isabella, the words slipped out uncontrollably.
“He treated you so kindly. Weren’t you loved by him?”
“Love?”
Isabella gave a light, mocking laugh.
“All men treat me well. If I had to repay every one of them with love, wouldn’t I become a courtesan loving everyone?”
With her delicate features pouting almost petulantly as she justified why Alfonso had to die, Isabella looked fiendishly beautiful.
“Alfonso failed to secure for me the position of the noblest woman. That alone is reason enough for him to die.”
Ariadne turned deathly pale and countered,
“What about Cesare…? Do you love him, Sister?”
To her, Cesare was the most precious thing in the world—more valuable even than herself. She had worshipped and protected him, even at the cost of her own well-being.
Yet Isabella stared back with eyes brimming with amusement, as if she’d just heard the most ridiculous tale. Her fairy-like violet eyes seemed ready to burst into giggles at any moment.
“My dear, foolish little sister. Life is a series of fair exchanges. Cesare crowned me queen—and in return, he now has the right to possess me. Our deal was perfectly fair.”
Her shimmering violet eyes still sparkled with mirth, as though ready to laugh aloud.
“Alfonso simply failed to offer a price worthy of my worth. So the contract was terminated. There was never any love involved.”
Isabella’s smile deepened—radiant like an artificial rose, bright yet utterly devoid of warmth.
“Instead of love, there is longing.”
It was a dry, dazzling smile—beautiful like an artificial rose, blooming without a trace of genuine joy.
“Before Alfonso died, Cesare came to me, begging. He said that not once since becoming engaged to you had he ever forgotten me.”
“What?”
Flustered, Ariadne stammered. Isabella replied melodiously,
“He said I even appeared in his dreams. That when he held you, he imagined it was me he embraced.”
Ariadne stared fixedly at her sister, her face ashen. Isabella continued, her voice as sweet and elegant as a singing lark.
“He said you’re too big—you hug men like you’re overpowering them. Your hair is so dark, you look like a crow.”
Isabella’s lovely eyes glinted maliciously.
“He said your breasts are too large and saggy—he thought you were a dairy cow.”
As Ariadne stood speechless, Isabella gently stroked her own silken ash-blond hair.
“He said a woman should be small enough to fit snugly in a man’s arms—that’s what makes him want to protect her. And that my golden hair resembles the angels depicted in the Imperial Scripture Office.”
The petite amethyst angel smiled wickedly. Isabella brought her exquisitely perfect face close to Ariadne’s and asked,
“Have you ever been the object of such desperate longing for anyone?”
Ariadne couldn’t breathe—let alone speak.
Ever since Cesare ascended as Regent Duke, his attitude had changed: the engagement ring he no longer wore, his cooling passion, the repeatedly postponed wedding date. With a triumphant, radiant smile, Isabella declared,
“That’s the difference between you and me. No matter how desperately you devote your life to a man, nothing will ever come back to you.”
She offered advice to her stubborn younger sister—though whether the sister, who was about to die, would ever get the chance to apply it was another matter.
“They don’t know gratitude. Never trust men.”
Isabella pursed her plump lips.
“Right now, Cesare probably craves me madly. But after a year, after three years, he’ll inevitably grow tired of me.”
Even Isabella—the breathtaking beauty at thirty-two—could not overcome this dilemma.
“Men are truly strange. They’ll do something punishable, yet get angry at you for scolding them, claiming you hate them.”
She twirled a stray ash-blond lock near her ear between her fingers and continued,
“And that’s when he’ll remember you—his loyal younger sister who’s crawled beneath him for fourteen years without uttering a single complaint.”
“…Loyal?”
“I dislike loose ends. Father taught me that. Eliminate every possibility cleanly—that’s the safest way. Don’t you agree, my dear sister?”
At Isabella’s raised hand, her Moorish knight, who shadowed her like an extension of herself, drew his sword.
“I should be off now. I must attend the coronation parade.”
That coronation was meant to be Ariadne’s.
“Make it painless for her, Agosto. After all, she is my beloved sister.”
Isabella maintained her despicable pretense to the very end.
Beyond Isabella’s retreating petite back, her Moorish knight advanced, his sword held straight before him. His left eye glowed ominously red. The crimson aura around that eye intensified, growing brighter and brighter, like a lamp’s flame turned to full heat.
But Ariadne was too busy glaring at Isabella’s receding figure, eyes wide with fury, to notice the knight’s eye clearly.
She was filled with unbearable regret at having been unable to utter even a single retort!
Above Ariadne’s wide-open eyes, the Moorish knight’s scimitar swept down.
—Swoosh!
Searing pain like fire engulfed her throat, a fountain of blood surged upward, and Isabella’s small figure faded into the distance.
Her own blood warmed her face.
Then darkness.
She could have rested forever—but there was still much left undone in this world. She couldn’t close her eyes just yet.
—Golden Rule.
A faint whisper brushed past her ears.
—You pay for the sins you commit, and receive back the good you bestow. That is the Golden Rule.
I want that. I wish it could be so. Why isn’t the world like that?
—Can you do it?
Ariadne nodded frantically in her dazed state. I will. I can. I swear I’ll make it happen.
She thought she heard the voice’s owner give a faint, mocking chuckle—or perhaps sensed another voice filled with pity—but drowsy heaviness flooded her entire body, spreading down to her fingertips, and Ariadne lost consciousness right then and there.
[This is the timeline separator]“Hah!”
Bracing herself for the burning agony, she opened her eyes—but felt no pain at all. Instead, she saw the ceiling of an old wooden house, its rafters bare and exposed. It was the farmhouse from her childhood.
‘What’s going on?’
Strangely, her body felt light. Ariadne raised her hands.
She saw thin arms and small hands—the taut, smooth skin of a child. Having just endured the cruelest insults about her figure less than five minutes ago, she absentmindedly glanced down at her torso.
Fortunately, the still-growing, scrawny girl had a flat chest, narrow shoulders, and a slender frame.
“Good heavens.”
Ariadne leaped out of bed and ran to the old mirror. In its uneven, cheap surface stood a girl about fifteen years old.
Though tall and thin, her limbs were long and graceful. Her black hair swayed down to her waist. Her deep green eyes stared fiercely back at her from within the glass.
It was her past self.
Except for two things.
Ariadne reached up and touched beneath her left eye. There was a vivid red beauty mark—something she’d never had before.
And on the last joint of her left ring finger, long and gleaming, was a fully restored fingertip—the one she’d once amputated for Cesare.
As if by magic, the finger was whole again. Yet that last segment, which had never existed before, was slightly redder than the rest of her hand, glowing with a persistent crimson blush.
Ariadne’s wonder was interrupted by an unwelcome visitor.
—Bang!
“Ariadne, you good-for-nothing!”
A scrawny old woman burst through the door, shouting.
“The sun’s already high in the sky, and you’re still lazing about!”
The hag swung the broom in her hand wildly, striking Ariadne’s head and neck at random.
“You can’t even keep track of wake-up time! Do you even realize how many people are going hungry because of you?”
Though Ariadne didn’t know it, she was actually scheduled for cleaning duty today and thus had nothing to do with the meals. But even if she’d tried to explain, Old Woman Gian Galeazzo wouldn’t have listened.
Beating the young maids was one of Gian Galeazzo’s favorite pastimes—and of all the girls, she particularly enjoyed tormenting Ariadne.
The fact that this highborn child was crawling in the same filthy dirt as herself—no, even dirtier—always gave the spiteful old woman a thrill.
Ariadne raised her arms to shield her face. The broom struck her arms and face in sequence, stinging sharply. The past was repeating itself once more.
It was the spring of her fifteenth year—the day she’d be cast into the savage, predator-filled world of high society, utterly alone.
Today was the day Ariadne would be summoned to the Cardinal’s residence within the main fortress of San Carlo.
When the male lead is punished by carrying the female lead’s child and having periods like a woman
“I’ve given birth to two children for you, yet you still think about him.
Was I nothing but his substitute to you from beginning to end?”
Synopsis:
Meng Huan, a scumbag who has dated countless girlfriends, transmigrates to a female-dominated country.
Day 1: Whether it’s female dominance or not doesn’t matter. The beauties here are passionate and amorous. Isn’t it easier to date them than in modern times?
Day 2: After a night, Meng Huan discovers the differences in the female-dominated world. Men here actually have chastity locks and menstrual cycles. This hinders his ability to perform, damn it!
Day 3: What’s wrong with sleeping around? I don’t want you to marry me. I’m meant to be a playboy. I don’t care about male virtues… What? You want to drown me in a pig cage? Marry, I’ll marry!
Day N: Meng Huan inexplicably vomits and receives the shocking news of his life… He’s pregnant.
_____
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Chapter Comments (4)
Inline Comments (8)
“Let’s say you wanted to ask me to dance, Your Highness.”
Wah! Isabella is very cunning. Perfect fit for Cesar.
“My sister and I are so close that she herself insisted we match colors—she aske
Wow! Isabella’s impudence knows no bounds. We’ll pretend to believe you this time.
– “Didn’t that older lady make her cry?”
Every time Isabella amazes me with her cunning. Smart at turning the situation to her advantage. ( ◐ o ◑ )
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Ari realmente é incrível. Cada capítulo mostra o quanto ela é inteligente e sempre um passo à frente de todo mundo. Mal posso esperar para ver até onde esse plano dela vai chegar.
I’m still curious of what Alphonso meant by the last chapter
I’m still curious of what Alphonso meant by the last chapter