Simonetta left in the night and returned on the morning mist.
"Chaldean, the news I brought back is not good."
She found Fujimaru Ritsuka, who had just gotten up and was doing some simple stretches, looking rather grim.
"Did you find anything out?" Fujimaru Ritsuka slipped on her coat and headed for the villa's kitchen, only to notice that a room on the first floor was still lit.
"Huh? What's that?" She blinked in confusion.
"Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Leonardo. They were already in there before I left last night, but I don't really know what they're doing." Simonetta spread her hands.
She actually held Lawrence in great respect, even though he had not brought her back to life.
Whenever she coughed up blood, those church people would only pour icy water over her head and cut open her arms, claiming that they were driving the disease-bringing devil from her body.
Simonetta had not known much, but she had instinctively felt that something was wrong. Still, she could not put it into words, nor did she have the strength to say anything.
It was only after Lawrence brought that foul-tasting medicine that she felt a little better, but... it was already too late.
She had still died—the first failed house call of Lawrence, the father of epidemiological science.
She had come from Genoa to Florence, met many people, played and seen many things, and died amid everyone's adoration beneath brilliant sunshine. She did not think it was such a bad ending. If she had any regrets... perhaps it was that she had not spent a few more years being lovey-dovey with that bastard Giuliano, and that she had not fulfilled her true wish: to take up a sword and become a female knight-lord who could ride freely across the European