Chapter 62
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 62
"Of course. According to Bella’s calculations, every young lady from a house of equal rank is beneath her."
Viviana gritted her teeth. There had been unsettling moments before—subtle slights she had always dismissed as her own misunderstanding. Yet, hearing Harriet’s words, she realized it hadn't been a misunderstanding at all. It had been a chilling instinctual warning.
"That’s absurd."
"Actually... rumors are already circulating that you have long been jealous of Bella due to your unrequited love for Adam Hofner. It means Bella has already begun her 'retribution'."
"Do people actually believe such groundless nonsense? It’s ridiculous to even say it now, but I was part of Bella’s entourage! Jealousy? That’s preposterous."
"Were the rumors about me any more sensible? And yet, everyone believed them, didn't they?"
Viviana was left speechless.
Thinking back to her past self, it wasn't an impossible story. Just as Harriet claimed, people were undoubtedly swallowing the rumors about her without a second thought. It felt as though she was finally paying the price for her own arbitrary judgments and criticisms of Harriet.
"So, I have to choose? Either I kneel and beg Bella for forgiveness, or I am ostracized from high society?"
For a young lady of marriageable age, social isolation was one of the worst fates imaginable. The despair of facing such a reality was beyond words.
Harriet understood exactly what Viviana was feeling. She, too, had a past where she was ridiculed and pointed at by everyone because of Bella’s machinations. Harriet, who had once been dragged center stage as the protagonist of a scandal orchestrated by Bella, had known a time when she couldn't even breathe freely.
That was why she knew the answer Viviana craved most.
"If you don't mind, I’ll stand by you. So, I hope you won't offer Bella a humiliating apology."
In Viviana’s eyes, Harriet could read a whirlwind of emotions: bewilderment, doubt, hope, regret, and gratitude. Which of these she would yield to was entirely up to Viviana.
In the end, she chose to uphold her pride.
"Then, are we... friends now?"
Harriet smiled faintly and extended her hand.
"May I call you Viviana?"
Viviana looked down at the hand, then smiled and clasped it.
"...Of course, Harriet."
An alliance, fragrant with strawberries, was forged in Harriet’s room.
* * *
Autumn was regrettably fleeting.
No sooner had the leaves fallen than a cold north wind swept in. As December arrived, Genoa was overtaken by a festive mood. The last week of the year was Holy Festival Week, a time when nobles and commoners alike rejoiced, exchanged congratulations, and offered prayers.
"Have all your clothes for Holy Festival Week arrived?"
"Yes, Great-aunt Trisha. Thanks to you, I’ll be able to wear beautiful dresses again this year. Thank you."
"As I’ve told you countless times, it’s like playing dress-up with a doll for me. All you need to do is show me your pretty self."
Harriet bit back the urge to say, 'I wish I were a prettier doll.' She knew she’d only get scolded for talking nonsense.
Great-aunt Trisha is truly a good person. Was it Yawar’s grace that led me to write to her first?
The seemingly stern old lady had begun to show a softer side lately, even exchanging jokes with Harriet. However, the fact that the blanket never left her lap was concerning. Harriet had learned back in the autumn that the lap blanket Trisha used in midsummer was an essential item for her, even in the sweltering heat.
It seems like something is wrong with her health, but she won't say a word...
Whenever Harriet asked how she was feeling, Trisha would casually deflect the question. 'Me? I’m fine. Why do you ask?' When she asked Roxana or Butler Andre, she received the same scripted replies. It felt rude to keep pestering someone who insisted they were fine, so Harriet didn't press further, but the worry remained. She wanted to keep this 'proper adult'—the first she had met since her parents' passing—by her side for as long as possible.
"Harriet?"
"Yes?"
"What are you thinking about that you didn't hear me calling?"
"D-did you call me? I’m sorry."
Trisha waved her hand, dismissing the apology. "I was going to ask which temple you plan to visit during the upcoming Holy Festival Week."
"Where are you going, Great-aunt?"
"I’ll go to St. Paolo Temple, as I always do. But you don't need to follow me. Go wherever you wish."
This was something Harriet had been pondering as the festival approached. Since she didn't need to accompany Trisha, her destination was already decided.
"Then, I think I’ll visit Saint Clarissa Convent."
"I thought as much. It seems you ought to go, if only for the sake of your soap business."
Harriet merely offered a smile in response. Trisha hummed, thinking for a moment, before her expression turned serious.
"It’s none of my business where you go, but for nobles, Holy Festival Week is a vital opportunity for networking. That is why the temples frequented by powerful houses are always bustling."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"If you are to forgo such an opportunity, you must gain something from Saint Clarissa’s. It doesn't necessarily have to be a tangible benefit, but it shouldn't be for mere emotional satisfaction."
"I understand."
Harriet nodded with a firm gaze, already appearing confident in her path. Trisha wondered if she had nagged unnecessarily, but it was an old person’s habit to repeat the obvious. She figured it wouldn't hurt for Harriet to have one such person in her corner.
* * *
As the end of the year approached, every temple hoped to attract as many worshippers as possible. For the nobility who wielded power and wealth, it was custom for High Priests to personally contact them to request their attendance.
As Benedict finished mass and prepared to leave the temple with his associates, the High Priest of Arens Temple bowed deeply in greeting.
"Are you leaving already, My Lord?"
At his appearance, the group began praising the day’s sermon. The priest, his hair streaked with gray, modestly waved his hand.
"That is less due to my ability and more thanks to the deep faith of our worshippers. By the way, regarding Holy Festival Week this year...?"
It was a question that amounted to a plea for their attendance, but since everyone intended to come to Arens Temple anyway, the conversation remained pleasant. Benedict was no different.
"Of course, we must come to Arens. Many people will visit again this year, so you must be terribly busy with the preparations."
"That is true, but preparing for the Holy Festival is a joy for us. We are always grateful to those who visit."
"Despite the hardships, your devotion is truly profound. That is why we respect you, Father. Hahahaha!"
The priest smiled warmly at Benedict’s compliment, then, with his eyes still curved in a smile, subtly shifted the topic.
"By the way, which temple does Duke Kailas attend? I don't believe I’ve heard."
At his words, everyone’s gaze turned to Benedict. He savored the attention, pausing for a moment before replying.
"Ah, Cedric? That fellow doesn't seem to frequent any particular temple. But it’s not because he lacks faith! He’s simply too busy, isn't he?"
"I know, I know!"
The priest chuckled heartily in agreement, then added with a hint of feigned regret. "If such a man were to visit our temple, he could forge excellent connections with the other worshippers."
"Indeed, that’s true."
Benedict had known what the priest wanted to say from the start. He had merely waited until the man was eager enough to ask. As if to assist the priest, Benedict’s acquaintances began to chime in.
"If he doesn't have a specific parish, isn't our temple the best option? In terms of scale, it might be slightly smaller than Elvinas or St. Paolo, but it has far more substance."
"Actually, the size is nearly the same. But more importantly, don't our worshippers often engage in cooperative ventures based on their friendships here? This isn't some old-fashioned temple that just recites scripture; it’s a place that builds the future of the Empire!"
As they praised the temple, the High Priest couldn't hide his delight. He looked at Benedict again, silently demanding an answer. Finally, Benedict shrugged as if his hands were tied.
"Indeed, it makes no sense for the head of a house to avoid the temples. One could say he was young and didn't know better until now, but things must change going forward... Very well. I’ll speak to him."
"Your Lordship is truly a thoughtful and warm-hearted man. Duke Kailas is fortunate to have you. Hahahaha!"
They parted ways in a cordial atmosphere, showering each other with compliments.
The next day, Benedict immediately sought out Cedric. Holy Festival Week was fast approaching; he had to persuade his nephew quickly.