Chapter Title: Falling
"Wait a moment." Adèle immediately opened the door. At the same time, her heart tightened. However, as soon as the door opened, the tension disappeared as quickly as it had come. Standing outside was a small girl wearing a white maid's cap.
"What is it?" Adèle asked, relieved.
"Miss, the master is calling for you." The short maid replied in a rough voice.
"My brother?"
"Yes. You need to come immediately. It's urgent." Adèle studied the maid for a moment. Her cap was too large, and her head was bowed, making her face impossible to see. Her attire was indeed that of a Bonaparte maid, though the clothes seemed slightly oversized. Adèle hesitated briefly.
_But if Cesare is really calling for me…_ Finally, Adèle nodded.
"All right. I'll go right away."
---
The maid led the way toward the outer wing. With all the staff concentrated in the ballroom, the outer corridors were surprisingly quiet. Adèle tightened her shawl against the cold night air and watched the maid walking ahead.
_She's a bit unusual for a maid._ Adèle hadn't seen many Bonaparte maids. From her limited experience, they were unobtrusive. Their steps were precise, their shoes made no sound, and their voices were as soft as scattered beans. Adèle only recognized their presence by the fluttering white apron ribbons and the black skirts swaying in the hallways. But the maid in front of her was different. Her steps were clumsy, her heels struck the floor noisily, and she hesitated and looked around as if she were lost. It was surprising that someone like this was employed as a maid by the picky Bonaparte household.
"Where are we going?"
"To the rooftop."
"…" For some reason, she really didn't want to go. But despite thinking that, Adèle couldn't turn back to her room. Cesare was not the type to explain things to others. His secretary, Gigi Manfredi, was proof of that. To avoid being trampled, she had to act like him. Even if it seemed strange, she had to stay silent and follow. While she was thinking, the maid and Adèle reached the third floor of the mansion. Climbing the spiral staircase, Adèle soon found herself outside the mansion. Her vision cleared, revealing a star-studded night sky. The night wind blew fiercely from all directions. Adèle gathered her wildly blowing hair and looked around. There was no one in sight.
"Where is my brother?"
"At the bell tower." The maid pointed to the bell tower rising from the third-floor rooftop. While Adèle looked up at the top of the bell tower, the maid quickened her pace. In an instant, she disappeared around the corner of the bell tower.
"Wait…!" As Adèle hurried toward the railing, there was a scuffle behind her.
"I'm sorry!" Suddenly, Adèle was pushed over the railing.
---
It was a little past eleven o'clock. Considering the ball usually lasted until three or four in the morning, it was the time when the atmosphere was at its peak. Cesare, who had been greeting guests since early evening, finally stepped out onto the terrace alone. The disappointed faces of the nobles could be seen through the closed glass doors, but they soon dispersed. When the host went to the terrace, it meant he wanted a break, and it was etiquette not to disturb him.
"…" Cesare sat in a rattan chair with a backrest shaped like a duke's crest and exhaled softly. He almost ran his hand through his hair but stopped, remembering how Oliver, his valet, had painstakingly styled it that day. Instead, he pulled out a cigar case from his pocket. As he lit the thick cigar, the scent of almonds quickly filled the terrace. Cesare stretched his long legs and leaned back, exhaling smoke. Then he noticed something engraved on one corner of the stone terrace ceiling. Upon closer inspection, it was initials carved with a knife. _C. e R._ Catarina and Rowan. Cesare chuckled. They were unique, but to engrave something even here. He gazed at the old marks, releasing a long puff of smoke. Rowan Bonaparte and Catarina Bonaparte. They had a love for the ages, a noble love that never faded with time. Cesare remembered. On the days when the Bonaparte mansion held a ball, the two would dance happily in the ballroom. They would place young Cesare in the grandest chair in the ballroom, a cookie in his hand, and dance for hours, just the two of them, in their own world that no one could invade.
"…" Cesare exhaled another puff of smoke and lowered his head, letting the old memories drift away. Finally, he ran his hand through his carefully styled hair. _I should tell Gigi to bring me some whiskey._ As he reached for the bell on the side table, there was a knock. _Knock, knock!_ Before he could even respond, the door swung open.
"Hey, Cesare! The ladies are clamoring to see you, and you're out here?" It was Jude Rossi. His old friend approached with lively steps and set a champagne glass on the side table. Cesare, cigar in mouth, looked at the glass.
"That's not whiskey."
"Lady Eva said to stop giving you whiskey." Cesare reluctantly picked up the glass with a displeased smile. Jude sat next to him, grinning.
"You're really weak when it comes to Lady Eva."
"Shut up."
"How is Lady Eva?" Cesare took another puff from his cigar.
"She's not well."
"That's a shame. I brought a gift for her."
"Give it to Ernst." Cesare replied indifferently and drank from the glass. As the alcohol slid down his throat, his frayed nerves began to relax.
"You have no manners!" Jude also took a drink and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Another good bottle, huh?"
"An envoy from Orqueenia brought it. A client, you know."
"It's great to have a rich and noble friend!"
"You're also from a noble family."
"The Rossi family is noble, but they can't compare to Bonaparte!" Already sounding drunk, Jude laughed heartily.
"How's the new lady of that noble house doing?" Cesare frowned with the cigar in his mouth.
"Jude, that topic is…" Cesare turned his head and was momentarily speechless.
"What's with that look?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing!" Jude, wearing a fluttering woman's shawl, grinned. It was an expensive-looking shawl, but seeing a grown man wearing it was unsettling.
"Did you come to my party dressed like that? Are you out of your mind?"
"I didn't wear it here! It flew down from the sky as I was passing by! You know, like an angel descending… starting with 'Do not be afraid'…"
"Why would you pick that up? Are you poor?"
"Your sarcasm is still sharp. But look. It's high-quality cashmere from Rajput. A lady from a noble house must have dropped it." Jude extended the shawl for him to inspect.
"Get rid of it." Cesare frowned and turned his head away. He was tired of retrieving lost items from ladies who seemed to drop handkerchiefs around him all the time.
"But look! Something of this quality must belong to a house with a priory."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Once you get rid of Miss Lucrezia, you can safely entrust your life to a lady, right? Maybe this shawl is fate!" Cesare smirked with a frown.
"Do you think I'm not marrying because I'm worried about a lady getting her hair pulled by Lucrezia?"
"That's not it."
"Get rid of…" Suddenly, Cesare stopped as he glanced at the shawl.
"Wait a moment."
"Hmm? Interested?" Without a word, Cesare took the shawl from Jude. It was a familiar ivory color. He quietly examined a corner. _C. B._
"Ha." Seeing the initials embroidered with blue thread, Cesare let out a short sigh. Without a doubt, it belonged to his mother, Catarina Bonaparte. It should be with Adèle Bibi now. But it had fallen from the sky?