𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

𝟐𝟗

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE DECISION OF A BRIDE
THIRD PERSON
GIORNO GIOVANNA

♱ MUSIC SWELLED IN GIORNO'S EARS. He could hear the music, the clinking of glass, and the laughter. A tall golden throne, intended for the king—his father—was placed just next to Giorno. While attempting to fix his collar, Giorno sighed. He was wearing clothing that made him feel as though he had millions of pounds of heavy weight on his shoulders. He had a crown on his head that itched. He appeared uncomfortable due to the stones and jewels on his body. Instead of this tacky costume, he would like to wear his regular black and gold suit. Giorno, however, had hefty layers of gold covering him from head to toe, as well as a gold-encrusted harness that was fastened around his waist.

He didn't seem to be at a party; he appeared to be at a funeral. He merely nodded his head in welcome and ignored the lords who bowed before him and the young girls who prostrated themselves at his feet. Giorno could only make out that his father was engrossed in a goblet of wine when he turned to look at him. Dio Brando didn't appear to be having fun at the performance. Although his countenance appeared to be blank, he was more irritated at his son. But Giorno also felt that way.

Salvatore stood nearby, partially hidden by a golden pillar. The French ambassador, who had been instructed to be on standby and ready to act at any time, was the Prince of France—his father. Farther into the shadows of every crevice and area of the place, we're all Giorno's close friends. They all awaited orders.

Giorno, on the other hand, did nothing except watch Salvatore intently. He was watching for any indication of strange conduct. He was watching for what would happen. He was waiting for everyone his father had invited. It took weeks to gather and inform every royal in the world about the party. However, there was a belief that many would show up. Giorno was alerted to the fact that new acts of violence could occur at any time and that anyone could pose a threat to the throne.

Giorno looked indifferently at the faceless crowd of people as his mind protested in astonishment. The prince was supposed to pick a bride from among these strangers, but to him, all the women appeared to be identical. They all had the same hairstyles and were sporting the same gowns and outfits, which bothered him greatly. Giorno was unable to spend all day staring at women in the same place. They were all just strangers who kept making him feel disgusted and urged. They left behind many unfavorable impressions, including their barking laugh, discolored teeth, excessive amounts of cosmetics, and many others. Giorno felt worn out after all this.

Giorno had been unable to let go of the memory of one particular young woman among the many people of the day. He pondered whether Y/n would always be on his mind as he bowed his head at yet another girl bowing low in front of him. Would he always hold everyone else to her standard? He waited for the girl to simply enter the house and notice him standing there longing for her affection. Giorno's only goal was that. Though Salvatore was the envoy who waited at the front door for the King of France, this merely indicated that Salvatore was trying to acquire Y/n first before Giorno could, which infuriated him even more.

Giorno's father abruptly murmured, "You are making no effort," jolting Giorno out of his daydream. Giorno was afraid to face his father in the eyes, and he failed to see that the young girl who was bowing had left. "You may ask the females one question or something that will pique their interest," was the advice. The monarch said, "instead of being motionless there. This is not a wake. Act differently if you don't desire a woman."

"Yes, but Father, when I already know you will choose for me whomever you think is best?" Giorno questioned. His father went quiet at that and Giorno's heart beat faster.

"Even so, I want to know about your engagement before the end of the week and get you married before the month is out. Is that clear?" Just at the sight of his son, his father took a sharp breath. "Now leave; watch, another woman is approaching."

Giorno was puzzled as to why their numbers appeared to increase before his very eyes. He gave in, becoming quiet at the memory of his father's own words. "Your Majesty, yes," Giorno remarked as the woman and her family began to approach. Giorno merely stood there, a lump in his throat growing larger, not knowing who they are.

He nodded in return as the girl curtsied while gazing at the wealthy noble family he believed they were. Giorno kept his position while gazing at the girl. His father wished for more participation. Giorno, however, had no feelings at all for any of these women. They were simply not her.

"Please allow me to have the pleasure of officially introducing Lady Isolde, the Marquess Victoria of Italy's daughter." Giorno only nodded while gazing at the girl. rising in front of him, displaying gorgeous brunette hair and clear brown eyes. She had common, unremarkable features that weren't plain or outstanding. Giorno knew the girl was roughly attractive, but he felt nothing when he looked at her, and he wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd.

Giorno had a hard time respecting women who were merely simpered and not shown their entire potential, and he believed that he could never be married to someone he didn't consider his emotional equal. But a few seconds later, Giorno learned that King Dio Brando, who was also his father, had once been good friends with Lady Isolde's father.

He had to push himself to tell the girl, "The pleasure is mine." I want to make sure you're having fun tonight, Lady Isolde."

She replied with a cheerful "I am, thank you" and a smile that reached her eyes. "However, in my opinion, Your Highness, it cannot be said the same of you."

Giorno sat, motionless at that, admiring the young woman all over again. "Even while I—, my pride would dictate that I disagree." Giorno stopped and blinked up at a girl who had appeared and vanished in the distance. Giorno struggled to recall the reason for his initial statement as he switched his attention back to the girl in front of him, "I...I cannot."

Giorno was stunned by the idea of why he should be so distracted by a single movement when the entire room was a mass of motion and—Y/n. He looked up again after seeing another flash of color.

Unexpectedly, blood gushed from his head. Giorno blinked a few times as he felt dizzy. She was there—just there—clad in a stunning blue dress with waves of white evoking tonight's snowfall. She even wore a faux fur hat to match a white faux cape that she wore over her dress and her shoulders. Unlike the other women here, she had unusual hair. She appeared different and lovely. And to think that even if he had found her beautiful while she was wearing the unattractive uniform of a servant, he would be at a loss for words right now. He only knew that she appeared to be above and separate from this world.

He had become numb at the mere thought of her. The mere mention of the other women vanished from his mind. He no longer desired to nod in response to girls bowing to him. As she moved, she appeared to shine. Giorno gasped for air as he watched her, and he was terrified by the violent thudding of his heart.

"Your Highness," someone was saying.

"Sire, are you quite all right?" Another.

Giorno couldn't help but stand back and observe. As a young man took ahold of Y/n's hand. Her eyes widened in shock and then recognition as she turned to face him. Oh, to stare into those eyes once more. Giorno's eyes began to grow angry as Salvatore approached. After Salvatore said something, she chuckled. Giorno experienced a strange discomfort in his chest as a result of the sound that seemed like a blade piercing him. He had never experienced anything like that, and he wanted to rip the pain out of his chest.

"The French King has arrived." Giorno's ear was immediately whispered to by Bucciarati. Giorno exhaled before pulling back and restraining himself. Y/n had left and joined Salvatore in vanishing into the crowd. "Salvatore, the French ambassador, verified it."

"Is he certain?"

"Yes, sir, he has brought a lot of his friends who weren't invited. Fugo heard them say they were going to take her into custody."

"WHERE IS SHE?"

TO BE CONTINUED
NEXT CHAPTER
THE PERFECT WORLD