Ariadne had clearly approached Alfonso intentionally at first. She saw him as the golden key that would solve all her problems at once – the tiresome Cesare, the troublemakers of the De Mare family, and all her other hardships.

Marriage to Prince Alfonso could definitely cleanly resolve all her problems. Of course, there was still the event of Cesare’s rebellion afterwards, but she knew a significant portion of the cards Cesare held when he was plotting the rebellion at that time.

As long as history flowed as it originally did, she could prevent that rebellion.

So she thought this was the perfect arrangement. It was beneficial for Alfonso and beneficial for her. If Alfonso just agreed to marry her, there would be no obstacles in their way.

Thus, Ariadne intentionally set traps to captivate the heart of the 17-year-old boy, both when they first met at the Langbue Orphanage and the second time they met in the Queen’s Garden, without a shred of guilt.

The guilt of ensnaring the Alfonso of her past life with her own hands also gradually faded. Because this time, through marriage with Alfonso, she would put him on the throne.

And she never worried or fretted over his reaction. If he didn’t fall for it, she could set the next trap, and if he didn’t love her, there was also the method of becoming his political bride and winning the spot by his side.

Regardless of the means, the end would be just. If Ariadne just obtained Alfonso’s marriage vow, she would get very close to the freedom she had dreamed of. As a bonus, Alfonso would also gain his rightful inheritance, the throne.

But at some point, her former brother-in-law and this innocent boy seemed to have seeped into her. She missed him when she didn’t see him, she worried about how he was doing, she desired for him to be curious about her, for him to miss her too.

She wanted Alfonso’s heart, his sincerity, not a political exploitation or a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship. She wanted to save him from misery and help prevent sorrow and worry from engulfing him.

‘Get a grip.’

Ariadne shook her head from side to side.

Ariadne was not completely safe yet. It was true that she could breathe a bit easier at home now that she had obtained the right to audit Lucrezia’s ledgers, but she didn’t know how the power dynamics of the household would change once Ippolito, the eldest son studying abroad, returned.

And someday, as time passed, Cardinal De Mare would grow old and die, and Ippolito, Lucrezia’s son and Isabella’s biological older brother, would take over the De Mare family. She had to leave the house through marriage before then.

‘A me who has fallen head over heels for a man is no different from an anemone.’

Moreover, her track record when she fell in love was dismal. In her past life too, during the time when Ariadne was wary of him, Cesare was kind, cheerful, and joyful like a spring breeze, just like now.

But after he realized that she had fallen for him and become a prisoner of love, that she was blindly devoting herself only to her fiancé without the support of family, relatives and friends, he became a completely different person.

– “The snowdrops blooming in the wild fields are like you.”

Ariadne was a free flower blooming in the fields. Picked when he wanted to pick her, tossed back into the field when he got tired of her.

Ariadne’s love blazed again for Cesare like the overwintered bulbs magnificently blooming snowdrops again in May even if left alone as time passed.

At the slightest warm breeze, for example, when she saw a hint of a smile spreading across that chiseled marble-like face in response to her actions, the snowdrop corms would burst into bloom with all their might, thinking spring had come.

While she was devotedly gazing only at Cesare in the fields without reward like that, Isabella became a beautiful rose carefully raised in a greenhouse, growing on the nutrients of Cesare’s attention and love.

It wasn’t just Isabella who was expensive and precious. There was the Countess Bartolini who was ‘just a friend’, the Marchioness Santarosa who overflowed with musical talent and was Cesare’s ‘artistic muse’ (Cesare did not engage in any particularly productive musical activities like composing or performing other than listening), and the voluptuous and sensual Madame Gentilini who was a commoner and clearly had no refinement to anyone’s eyes but she was his ‘soulmate’ so don’t interfere with his interactions with her. The list of people more important to Cesare than Ariadne was endless.

When there were no women, there were friends. The rascal gang led by that damn Ottavio De Contarini always left their wives and fiancées at home to hang out amongst themselves playing cards, hunting, and gambling.

Ariadne in love had no charm. At least she herself believed so.

‘Never, never again.’

After being terrified by the Janobi incident, Ariadne decided to devalue not only Cesare’s but even Alfonso’s letters. Men can’t be trusted at all.

Count Cesare of course, and Prince Alfonso’s probably isn’t his true intention either. Even if it is, I can’t fall for it. Don’t waver.

I’m going to win the spot by Prince’s side without falling in love with him or anyone else and become queen. For my freedom and safety.

Contrary to Ariadne’s denigration, Alfonso put a lot of thought into writing this letter and also discussed it with his secretary Bernardino.

“Can I invite Ari?”

“Absolutely not, Your Highness.”

It was Secretary Bernardino’s resolute answer to whether an invitation could be sent in the name of the prince’s palace to Lady Ariadne De Mare to go together to the southern villa.

“What in the world are you planning to say to invite an unmarried maiden in the name of the prince’s palace?”

Alfonso had nothing to say to that question either.

“Your Highness can invite any noblewoman. If Your Highness were a princess, you could have invited Lady De Mare. But now, especially in this state, absolutely no female guests are allowed.”

Bernardino dissuaded Alfonso, specifically pointing out the current situation where negotiations related to political marriage were taking place.

Alfonso briefly imagined disguising Ariadne as an unnamed noblewoman, dressing her in men’s clothing, and running around the southern villa together.

Going for a walk in the morning, playing in the fountain at noon, taking a nap in a hammock in the afternoon and sharing grapes… A dream-like day that was like walking on clouds.

Alfonso was not particularly imaginative. He was an exemplary student who learned as taught and faithfully carried out what he learned. But whenever it came to matters related to Ariadne, he had absurd imaginations.

He had lived a life where everything was determined as divided. He was born a prince, and it was his destiny to diligently learn and master the imperial studies to become a sage king.

His mother worked hard to pave the way for him, and his father also eliminated any obstacles in front of his son.

When the time came, he would meet and marry the daughter of a monarch, have children with her, and wait for his time while maintaining a respectful and sacred but dry married life, and once his father passed away, he would inherit the throne.

All Alfonso had to take in was the people, and nothing but the people. He had no doubt that he would live such a life.

‘Can’t I be together with Ari?’

The clever Ariadne would give advice, and he would lead the state affairs-.

“Your Highness?”

Alfonso suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. He thought about asking Secretary Bernardino ‘what do you think of my idea’ but shook his head in a second.

If Alfonso arbitrarily broke off the marriage talks and failed to secure another ally through his marriage, it wouldn’t be strange for the Gallico Kingdom to lead troops to the border even if he broke it off before then.

Maybe it could pass somehow even if the marriage talks were broken off. But if that engagement was finalized and turned into a betrothal agreement, and that betrothal agreement was broken, then the Gallico heavy armored knight corps and artillery units would really appear at the border.

And before progressing to either breaking off the marriage talks or the betrothal agreement, if this story came out of Alfonso’s mouth, Luca would scream first.

“No. Proceed with the afternoon schedule as planned.”

In the end, Alfonso sent the letter after only writing “I really want to show you the villa in Taranto.” That was both his true feelings and a promise he could keep even now.

Count Cesare De Como’s mailbox was bursting with letters. The letters he sent to Ariadne kept being ignored, but recently he succeeded in receiving the first reply, and after that, he received replies for one out of every three letters.

Specifically for Ariadne, the success rate of receiving replies was not good.

However, in most cases, Cesare did not write letters to others, and others wrote to Cesare first. For that reason, letters were piled up in Count Cesare’s mailbox to the point of overflowing the height of the box.

Two-thirds of them were from women who adored Cesare.

“To my dear Count Cesare,

It has already been over a month since I last saw you, my beloved. Where has the passion you showed that night, standing under my window and getting drenched in the morning dew, disappeared to, leaving me here alone and miserable…”

“Ah, tiresome.”

Cesare roughly crumpled up the letter from the daughter of Marquis Benedetto and threw it on the floor. Ottavio De Contarini, who was next to him, picked up the letter out of curiosity and looked at it. Cesare did not particularly stop Ottavio.

“Isn’t that the lady you met last month? Already tired of her?”

“Met, my foot. I just slept with her once. Why the hell is she so dense? If there’s not a single letter for a month, doesn’t that roughly mean let’s stop seeing each other?”

“You’ll definitely die stabbed in the back by a woman.”

Ottavio looked at the pile of letters stacked high on Cesare’s desk. He picked one up and read it aloud.

“I waited for you in front of the mill in the outskirts as promised, but you never showed up. Ah, you cruel man.”

Ottavio, who read the lines of the letter with exaggeration, putting in emotions and stressing words, clicked his tongue.

“A mill? Don’t tell me you seduced a woman suggesting to do it there, lured her all the way to a mill, and then didn’t show up at the last minute?”

“I forgot.”

These days there’s finally something to focus on, Cesare added.

“Still, how can you forget that? Goodness, this will remain a lifelong scar for the maiden.”

“She’s no maiden. She’s a married woman. She should be thankful I forgot. Thanks to my change of heart, she preserved her peaceful family! Since I didn’t show up, she must have relieved her burning passion with her husband instead. Isn’t it for the best for everyone?”

Cesare was shameless. Ottavio clicked his tongue and rummaged through the rest of Cesare’s desk, finding a letter placed in the corner.

Unlike the other letters that were roughly torn open, a red wax seal was carefully peeled off and then carefully reattached in its original shape. It was the De Mare family crest.

“What’s this that you’ve placed standing up like a holy relic?”

As Ottavio reached towards the De Mare family’s letter, Cesare slapped Ottavio’s wrist with his intact right hand.

“Get your hand off that.”

“What is it that you’re hiding from me?”

“None of your business.”

Ottavio grinned as Cesare resisted.

“What do we have here? Hand it over! What is it?”

Ottavio wrestled with Cesare to snatch the letter. Cesare waved his left arm in a cast and chased Ottavio away. His face reddened and his breath roughened from hastily moving his body. It was unlike the ever-elegant Count Cesare.

He barely grabbed Ariadne’s letter before Ottavio, put it in a drawer, and locked the top drawer with a key. He also hid the reply he was writing inside the drawer.

“I said it’s none of your business!”

“You trying to hold a gambling den or something? Then why won’t you show me? You’re going to gamble without me?”

“No!”

“Don’t tell me… is it a woman?”

“Shut up!”

Alfonso’s letter ended with “I want to see the villa in Taranto with you.” There was absolutely no content like “I’ll invite you to the villa.” It was a letter that only stated the truth, only the promises he could keep.

In the reply Cesare was going to send Ariadne, it said “I’ll make you the woman I’ll marry by seducing you with a pretty face, if you take responsibility for me, I’ll dedicate even a kingdom to you.”

For now, they were overly sweet words that were not only hard to believe as sincere, but also difficult to imagine he had the ability to keep the promise, whether marriage or a kingdom.

Which the woman’s heart would choose, or whether it would ultimately remain frozen like ice, could only be known when the situation arrived. And a masquerade ball where they could meet each other in disguise was approaching.