Sister, I'm the Queen This Life (330 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 6
Thud!
Ariadne stomped her foot. The insolent maidservant flinched at Ariadne’s imposing presence.
“I asked you your assignment—did I not?”
Uncharacteristically for a fifteen-year-old girl, Ariadne’s low, steady voice and the authority in her demeanor intimidated the maidservant, who nervously glanced at her.
“A-ah, no, that’s not it! I just thought… a lady like yourself wouldn’t need to concern herself with someone as lowly as me….”
“Your assignment.”
Only then did the maidservant whisper in a trembling voice.
“I’m a second-floor maid assigned to Lady Isabella….”
Ariadne scanned the girl up and down. She had fiery red hair, a short and plump figure, and appeared a year or two older than Ariadne herself.
“Your name.”
“My lady….”
The red-haired maid made a pained face, but under Ariadne’s sharp glare, she quickly lowered her head and gave her name.
“My name is Maleta….”
“I’ll be watching you closely.”
To the red-haired maid, who had ducked her head like a turtle, Ariadne added one more remark.
“Straighten your posture.”
Upon hearing this, Maleta bowed deeply in a flustered panic and hurriedly dashed out of the room.
[This is the timeline separator]Ariadne changed her tattered clothes into a modest indoor dress and followed the maid to Cardinal de Mare’s quarters.
The place Ariadne was summoned to was not the Cardinal’s study, but his private reception room. He never allowed anyone into his study, though family members were occasionally permitted into the reception room.
Knock knock.
“Your Eminence, I have brought Lady Ariadne.”
The maid knocked on the door with exaggerated deference and announced Ariadne’s arrival to the Cardinal.
She recalled standing in this very spot in her previous life, locking eyes with the golden-painted cherub on the wall and turning pale with fright.
Back then, merely looking at such luxuries had made her shrink in awe—but Ariadne of this life didn’t even blink. After nine years as the unrivaled star of high society, she was thoroughly jaded by extravagance.
Ariadne entered confidently through the door opened by a servant. Perfectly observing court etiquette, she stepped in gracefully and bowed deeply.
“I hope Your Eminence has enjoyed good health and prosperity since our last meeting. It fills this unworthy child with immense joy to pay my respects to you after such a long time.”
Cardinal de Mare looked at Ariadne with raised left eyebrow, clearly surprised.
He was a small-statured man in his fifties.
His face bore a slight resemblance to a rat—delicate features, slender bones, narrow shoulders—all traits he shared with Isabella. Yet, unlike his daughter, this fifty-year-old man, despite his feminine features, appeared less handsome than plain.
However, his piercing emerald-green eyes clearly conveyed that he was no ordinary man.
“You’ve traveled far—well done. Having grown up in the Bergamo fief, you likely had few opportunities for proper education, yet you’ve grown admirably. I, as your father, am pleased.”
‘How deeply grateful I am that you at least pretend to care with your words.’
Hiding her true thoughts, Ariadne replied clearly and sweetly.
“I shall study and practice even harder, so I may honor our family name and never bring shame before my parents and siblings….”
“Good. You certainly shouldn’t bring shame.”
A noblewoman in her forties cut off Ariadne mid-sentence—it was Lucrezia.
“A woman’s virtue lies not in learning or practice, but in dutifully serving and caring for her parents and siblings in youth, and later her husband in adulthood.”
Unlike Isabella, she had high cheekbones and a long face, yet her ash-blonde hair and amethyst eyes matched her daughter’s exactly. Her expression, however, seemed rather irritable.
Glaring down at Ariadne with upturned eyes, she delivered a warning disguised as reprimand.
“Don’t talk so boldly—behave like a proper young lady and stay quiet.”
She was dressed in a Porto Republic-style gown—an audacious design that exposed most of her chest, covered only by a thin layer of lace.
Her soft, fair skin appeared remarkably sensual for her age, but while she might pass for a splendid mistress, she hardly resembled a respectable lady of a grand household.
‘Once upon a time, I truly believed becoming a woman like her was the noble ideal.’
Having returned over a decade into the past, armed with all the experience of high society, Ariadne now saw her for what she was—vulgar to the point of embarrassment for someone claiming noble status.
‘What even do you call the mental state of someone wearing that dress while lecturing others to behave modestly?’
Ariadne forced a childlike, bright smile so none of these thoughts would show on her face.
“Yes, Madam. I’ll follow your words closely and strive to become a good daughter.”
Cardinal de Mare raised an eyebrow.
“Madam?”
But his sharp look wasn’t directed at Ariadne—it was aimed at Lucrezia.
In the Kingdom of Etruria, unless bastards were formally registered in a separate family register, it was customary for them to treat their father’s official wife as their own mother.
It was considered virtuous for illegitimate children to show filial piety equal to that of legitimate heirs, and for noble ladies to treat all children—her own or not—as equals.
However, a bastard daughter could never address the legitimate wife as “Mother” without explicit permission.
To appease her husband, Lucrezia managed a strained smile, lifting only the corners of her lips as she accepted Ariadne’s greeting.
“Call me Mother, not Madam. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
Though her dislike was barely concealed, she paid no heed to her new stepdaughter or her aging husband.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“You look lovely.”
Ariadne offered a picture-perfect smile, and Cardinal de Mare beamed warmly as he praised them both. Lucrezia, with no choice, forced a smile of her own and gave Ariadne a reluctant nod.
At that moment, a high, clear voice—like a songbird’s—floated in.
“Welcome back to the family! If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me anytime.”
The most exquisite, petite fairy of San Carlo—
Isabella.
She looked roughly a decade younger than the woman Ariadne last saw in her early thirties.
Unlike the past, when she’d bloomed like a full-blown rose in radiant beauty, the petite girl Isabella now resembled a fairy who had sprung straight from the pages of an old tale.
Unlike her mother, who couldn’t quite hide her displeasure, Isabella smiled with unmatched gentleness.
“We’re sisters after all. I’ll help you lots.”
Unconsciously, Ariadne caught her breath—overwhelmed by her sister’s breathtaking beauty.
‘Don’t be fooled by that smile.’
Beautiful Isabella, who lured victims with sweet smiles only to stab them in the back.
Her hands trembled involuntarily. To hide it, Ariadne tucked both hands under her opposite sides and bowed deeply, putting on the kindest, most sincere expression she could muster.
“Thank you.”
She had spent her entire past life trying desperately to get along with that perfectly smiling elder sister—acting subservient, reading every mood, waiting on her hand and foot, believing Isabella to be as warm and kind as her smile suggested.
Yet even on the day Isabella drove a knife into her back, she had been smiling just like this.
Isabella responded to Ariadne’s restrained greeting with her ever-gracious smile.
She stepped forward, forcibly pulled Ariadne’s hidden hands out from her sides, and clasped them warmly in her own.
“I’ve always wanted a sister my age! We can have tea parties together, go shopping in town… Do you like clothes or jewelry?”
“Ah, no—I don’t deserve such things.”
The moment Isabella touched her, Ariadne froze like a mouse before a cat. The ingrained habit of submission from childhood seemed to seize control of her limbs.
She gritted her teeth, praying no one would notice.
“Call me ‘older sister.’”
Isabella spoke with the ease of a born ruler, smiling warmly yet firmly.
“Older sister? Hah!”
Suddenly, a sharp voice jabbed from the corner.
“Why is she our sister? I don’t recognize her!”
“Araabella!”
Lucrezia snapped, hastily covering the speaker’s mouth.
It was a girl who looked about ten years old, with ash-blonde hair.
Unlike her elder sister, she took after her father—she shared Ariadne’s emerald-green eyes. But her low-saturation hair and deep-colored eyes didn’t harmonize as beautifully as her sister’s, so she lacked the same stunning looks. Her cheeks were still round with baby fat.
Araabella de Mare, the Cardinal’s youngest daughter, who in Ariadne’s previous life had died young during the great plague of 1123.
The little girl scowled with unmistakable resentment and pointed accusingly at Ariadne.
“Do we even look alike? Your hair’s pitch black! You can’t even read or play the lute, can you? Do you even know Latin?”
At this, Lucrezia stopped merely scolding with words. Casting a nervous glance at her husband, she rushed over and wrapped her arms around Araabella from behind.
But before she could calm her youngest daughter, Cardinal de Mare’s furious voice echoed through the reception room.
“Enough!”
Waving his left hand dismissively, the Cardinal issued a stern warning.
“Lucrezia, how have you been raising your children? Must I earn an imperial commendation for familial harmony? I’m only asking for basic decency—just the basics!”
“I’m sorry, Your Eminence. Araabella is still young….”
“Ten years old is young? In places like the Bergamo fief, a ten-year-old can do the work of a full-grown farmer!”
Araabella glared at Ariadne, convinced it was her fault she was being scolded.
Isabella, meanwhile, looked as though this entire shouting match had nothing to do with her—her expression was one of perfect, sorrowful innocence.
Maintaining a flawless guise of kindness in front of important people until the very end—that was Isabella’s alpha and omega.
“Everyone—leave!”
At his dismissal, everyone except Cardinal de Mare immediately retreated toward the door.
They walked backward without turning their backs—an Etruscan court custom when subjects took leave of their king.
His household truly resembled servants more than family.
“Oh, and assign Ariadne the same Latin tutor as Isabella and Araabella. Her other lessons should be identical as well.”
Lucrezia dared not show any outward displeasure and nodded demurely.
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
[This is the timeline separator]After leaving the Cardinal’s reception room, Lucrezia gritted her teeth and hissed at Ariadne.
“Don’t cause trouble.”
Outwardly, Ariadne bowed respectfully—but inwardly, she imagined herself shrugging her shoulders.
‘What exactly have I done? It was your own child who started the trouble. I haven’t even begun yet.’
As the maid stood guard by the door, Lucrezia turned and strode into her private chambers first. Left in the hallway were only Araabella, grinding her teeth in fury; Isabella, watching silently; and Ariadne, standing wide-eyed in the middle.
Araabella, unable to contain her frustration, glared and ground her teeth again.
“I don’t recognize you!”
The ten-year-old puffed up her cheeks and jabbed a tiny finger toward Ariadne.
“A farm-raised maid like you! Born to some lowly servant woman!”
Rather than anger, Ariadne felt disbelief. Where would a mere ten-year-old learn such words? Undoubtedly, her parents—or that venomous elder sister—must have whispered them into her ears.
Yet Ariadne had resolved not to tolerate such things in this life, no matter how childish the outburst. Besides, her natural disposition was far from meek.
She offered a smile that hid thorns beneath and replied coolly.
“If we’re going by Father’s words, it seems you’re the one who’ll be sent to the farm.”
“What?”
“He did say ten years old is more than enough to be a full farmer.”
“Aaargh!!”
Unable to control her rage, Araabella trembled violently—then charged straight at Ariadne. Behind her lay the stairs.
When yandere male lead believes she loves him — but she never did
“How dare you!”
“How dare you make me love you, only to cast me aside as nothing more than a friend?!?
“I will never accept that.”
“I will never let you return to him.”
“Even if I have to burn myself to ashes.”
“Even if I must shatter my purity, my dignity, my very soul.”
“I will never let you escape me!”
This was the first novel that introduced me to the matriarchal genre. I’ve read it three times already!
At first, the male lead despised the female lead. Later, he misunderstood that she liked him, so he condescendingly and reluctantly reciprocated her feelings.
Then, he suddenly discovered that she was kind to everyone in the same way, and there was already someone she cherished in her heart, and that person was not him.
The male lead couldn’t believe it, he became angry and crazy. He was determined to capture her body and heart by any means necessary.
Synopsis:
Want to see how a green tea bitch male lead falls in love with the female lead?
Want to see how he flirtatiously pursues the female lead?
Want to see how he gets slapped in the face repeatedly?
The male lead is a green tea bitch, a poisonous lotus, jealous, ruthless, unscrupulous, with a venomous heart, and he’s also a delusional maniac.
The female lead is righteous, positive energy-filled, kind, a holy mother.
Let’s see how two people with extreme personalities come together~
_____
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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