The Dice of Chance

Whether she had read the hidden meaning behind the question or was merely pretending not to know, Madame Pignatelli answered with perfect composure.

"My daughter is so particular that I find it far more comforting to handle things myself rather than leave them to the servants."

Are they closer than I thought?

He had heard that the inheritance procedures had grown complicated after the Count's sudden death. By rights the estate should have passed to the next Countess, Delfina Pignatelli, the late Count's own daughter. Yet when her father died she had been only a few months shy of adulthood.

Still a legal minor, she could not inherit, and her stepmother, Rosetta Pignatelli, had taken custody of the fortune. Even after Delfina came of age, the absence of a proper will continued to obstruct any clean division of the property.

"You must care for her a great deal, then."

"……Yes."

A brief silence settled between them, but it passed amiably enough. Before long they reached the door at the far end of the corridor.

"You have a visitor, dear."

When the door opened, a soft breeze drifted in from the terrace opposite.

As the wind gently brushed past the three people who had just entered, the woman standing at the open terrace doors turned her gaze toward them.

"Oh my."

A slightly flustered voice, and a scent—unfamiliar yet somehow already known—brushed the tip of his nose.

Cesare stopped dead in his tracks.

"A friend?"

The world seemed to revolve in slow motion. Lucio's puzzled voice echoed dully. Unable to move so much as a finger, Cesare's eyes locked onto the face of the woman who had been leaning over on the terrace.

A face so pale it looked as though it might melt away into the sunlight. Hands that had clutched at him desperately yet without strength. The woman who had vanished the very next day now stood right before him. She, too, seemed to recognize Cesare; she faltered for a moment.

Before the awkward atmosphere could stretch any further, Lucio spoke first in his hearty voice.

"What a lively terrace!"

"You're the first person to compliment it like that, Mr. Perez."

Madame Pignatelli, standing behind them, spoke with clear disapproval in her tone.

A noble young lady's terrace was typically reserved for small tea parties with close companions or as a private retreat—not a space overflowing with greenery that looked more like a miniature garden than anything else. The proportion of green far outweighed any flowers.

"I find it unique and charming."

Lucio said it with easy familiarity. His voice was more animated than usual—after all, this was a place where he needed to make a good impression—and Cesare's brow furrowed slightly.

The woman lifted her head and regarded the three newcomers in turn.

Madame Pignatelli, Lucio, and then Cesare.

When her gaze met his at last, Cesare unconsciously wet his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. He was not a man easily startled, yet he was this shaken; she must be surprised as well, he thought.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I completely lost track of time."

Her gaze drifted through the still-green, unripe leaves.

"It's quite all right. I often find myself feeling the same way."

Listening to Lucio's reply, the woman sat naturally on the sofa. Her eyes no longer touched Cesare.

Did she not recognize him?

Seeming to realize that Lucio was the suitor, she quickly turned her full attention to him.

Does she like his looks?

He had heard that not one of the previous suitors had become her fiancé, so was appearance what mattered after all? Even as he recognized the thought as rude, he could not easily shake it. Cesare clenched his fist without thinking.

The idea that that night—the shared warmth of that night—was nothing more than a trivial moment she could dismiss as meaningless left him strangely irritated.

"I'll have tea brought right away."

Lucio secretly elbowed Cesare's rigid arm. Snapping back to himself, Cesare saw Lucio jerk his chin toward the seats, signaling him to sit.

"Perfect timing. The long journey has left me quite thirsty."

Cesare realized how emotionally carried away he had become and steadied himself. The present situation mattered far more than such feelings. If she was going to treat it as nothing more than a one-night connection, then so would he.

Not long after the tea was served, they got straight to the point.

"I trust you already know how I determine the number of meetings."

She set down the die she had been holding in her hand at some point onto the table. It was a smooth wooden die.

She has them roll a die, and the number that comes up decides how many times they may meet. Within those meetings, you have to win her over, they say.

How many people's fates hung in the balance of this single moment.

"Of course."

"I don't care for dragging things out."

At the sudden move to the main topic, Lucio swallowed hard.

"I suppose I should hope the god of fortune favors me."

Looking somewhat tense, Lucio picked up the die. He took a brief breath, then rolled it across the table just as it was.

Clatter-clatter.

The die rolled. It tumbled past him and only came to a stop once it had reached her side of the table.

"Huh……."

1.

Confirming the number facing the ceiling, Lucio gave a hollow laugh and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"It seems the goddess of fortune isn't on my side."

"Good heavens. How unlucky can one man be."

They absolutely had to purchase this mansion for the Planned City. Cesare glanced at Lucio's face. It was the picture of despair.

A tense silence filled the air. No one dared speak first. Even in this moment she looked only at Lucio, as if Cesare were not even there.

Strangely, that annoyed him. Cesare, who had been watching as a third party, opened his mouth. He furrowed his brow at a feeling he himself could not explain. He knew it was uncharacteristic meddling.

"I heard that equal opportunity is given to every visitor."

But the impulsive words slipped out before he could stop them. Only then did Delfina look at Cesare with a belated glance, as if just remembering he was also present.

At her indifferent gaze, Cesare asked again.

"Is that not so?"

"It is."

She nodded in a calm voice.

Lucio's eyes snapped toward him. Before coming to the mansion, Cesare had firmly insisted that disguising himself as a suitor to gain entry was a cowardly act he would not allow. The only reason he had come along anyway was because of a request from his benefactor—Lucio's father. Cesare had been unable to ignore the plea of a man who said he could not trust his own son to go alone.

Accompanying him. Cesare had drawn a clear line that that was all. Lucio's bewilderment was not strange. Once Cesare said no to something, he almost never changed his mind.

Even he had not expected to end up participating in this. Cesare sighed and slowly rubbed his forehead. It felt like spite toward the woman who looked at him so unmoved, or perhaps pure stubbornness.

"Then might I also be given a chance?"

His jaw tightened. At his question, Delfina paused.

"……Very well."

Delfina picked up the die from the table. Cesare stretched out his hand. Her long, slender fingers brushed over the glove that covered his thick, rough knuckles.

In that instant, Delfina's hand froze in midair. It was a fleeting moment that only Cesare, whose hand she had touched, could feel. He found himself wanting to know what that brief hesitation meant. The gloves he had begun wearing to hide his working-class origins felt particularly uncomfortable today.

"Hah."

Perhaps he had tensed more than necessary without realizing it; Cesare slowly released the breath he had been holding without noticing.

Tap.

And the die rolled across the table. He heard Lucio swallow dryly.

Clatter-clatter.

The die tumbled off the table and onto the floor.

"I'll check it!"