The Vampire and the Pope's Illegitimate Daughter

Chapter 4

Cesare was the eldest child of Vannozza and Rodrigo. From an early age, he never cried or fussed, nor did he cling to people or make unreasonable demands like other children. This caused Rodrigo to have high hopes for him, with a firm intention to groom Cesare for entry into the Church and ensure the Borgia family's control over the Roman clergy.

Thus, at the age of seven, Cesare became the pastor of the Borgia family's homeland parish in Valencia. At eight, he was appointed as the secretary to the Pope, and at nine, he became the bishop of Gandía and the treasurer of the Cartagena Cathedral.

Every time Giorgia heard of Cesare's new appointment, she couldn’t help but give Rodrigo a mental thumbs up—cronyism conducted so boldly. No wonder he was considered a true master of power play.

However, in the face of these achievements—unimaginable to ordinary children—Cesare always maintained a composure far beyond his years. Both Rodrigo and Adriana thought he had learned from Giorgia's example to keep emotions hidden and often praised him for it. It wasn't until Giorgia once heard that Rodrigo intended for Juan to join the papal guard that she noticed, for the first time, a crack in Cesare's usual stoic facade.

He didn’t want to join the Church; he wanted to join the army.

For the first time in front of Giorgia, he lost his composure, clenching his fists, and in a low, deliberate voice, he declared, "What I want, I will get."

The phrase "things are getting dangerous" instantly sprang to Giorgia’s mind.

No wonder she’d always felt there was something off about this brother; now she finally understood.

For an eight-year-old to say something so cold and domineering—could this really be okay?

Years later, as Giorgia once again faced her obstinate brother and heard that line, she was silent for a few seconds, giving it some thought before offering her sincere blessing. "Don't worry, Cesare, whatever you say—I'm sure you can do it."

If Cesare had lived in modern times and read Japanese light novels, he would've squinted, flashed a bright smile, and said, "As expected, Giorgia's words can always cheer me up."

Giorgia stopped herself from further daydreaming and gave Cesare another look.

Although she had never seen what Rodrigo looked like in his youth, from Cesare she could catch a glimpse. Everyone in the Borgia family was taller than the average person of their age, and with their Spanish heritage, each member possessed more distinct and deeper facial features.

Cesare’s build and appearance undoubtedly amplified these traits, yet none of it felt out of place. His sharp contours and features complemented each other seamlessly, perfectly and fittingly.

People naturally tend to be more tolerant when faced with beauty, and Giorgia was no exception. She was quite aware of her "looks-first" tendencies, and though she understood Cesare's obsession at such a young age was not a good thing, she softened her tone, saying, "But isn't being happy yourself the most important thing?"

Cesare had reached the door by this point. Resting his hand on it, he paused at Giorgia's words, turning to look at her. The coldness in his blue eyes had vanished, and he made a brief sound from his nose, almost like laughter. "Why did you decide to go to Florence, then? For happiness?"

Giorgia blinked. "..."

"I don’t believe you’re genuinely curious about your birth mother," Cesare said, pulling open the door and stepping into the moonlight. "But I do believe that you are genuinely enjoying yourself."

Only after hearing the sound of Cesare's boots on the steps of the hallway, gradually fading into the distance, did Giorgia slowly begin unbuttoning the men's shirt she was wearing.

She had heard Florence had been raining for quite some time and was much cooler than Rome—natural air conditioning made her happy.

She truly was eager to go to Florence and enjoy the rare summer breeze of the Apennine Peninsula.

"Be observant."

It seemed that Cesare had taken Rodrigo's teachings to heart.

If Rome was a crime-ridden city of sin during this period, Florence—almost 300 kilometers away—was a bustling city of order, a dream-like place reveling in art, wine, and opulent clothing.

In the 12th century, Florence defeated Emperor Henry VI of the Holy Roman Empire, gained autonomy, and became an independent city-state. It later conquered Pistoia, Arezzo, and Pisa, establishing itself as the dominant power in Tuscany. Concurrently, Florence's handicrafts and commerce flourished, with its banking industry being particularly prosperous, making it the financial hub of Europe.

And when people acquire wealth, they seek other pursuits—like art.

Even if Giorgia had never paid much attention to history books, she knew something about Florence during the Renaissance. What's more, Adriana had already focused on this topic when teaching the children, talking about Florence's artists such as Giotto, Verrocchio, and Botticelli. Giulia and Lucrezia were particularly fond of Botticelli, claiming that the women in his paintings possessed an indescribable allure.

A few years ago, the papal court had invited famous Florentine masters to the Vatican to paint frescoes for the Sistine Chapel, including Botticelli.

Though Giorgia hadn’t been able to visit the Sistine Chapel to observe those frescoes, she knew very well how Venus stood gracefully upon the shell in Botticelli's famous work *The Birth of Venus*, the image etched in her memory.

Two of her college classmates once spent two weeks debating whether Botticelli's women or Titian's were more beautiful, which Giorgia, busy with parkour training at the time, had found puzzling.

They finally dragged Giorgia in to arbitrate—she had just hopped down from the school wall.

Giorgia, planning to habitually stay neutral, closely examined both *The Birth of Venus* and *Venus of Urbino*, and then asked a question that had troubled her for over a decade: "Why isn't Venus wearing clothes? Is it hot? Isn’t she cold?"

And thus Giorgia earned a nickname that followed her for years: "The Ultimate Straight Guy."

On the road from Rome to Florence, the carriage driver—originally from Florence—learned that Giorgia had never set foot outside Rome since birth, and began enthusiastically promoting his hometown.

From Dante to the currently popular Botticelli, from the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore to the Palazzo Vecchio, he embodied the characteristic enthusiasm of the Apennine summer, speaking tirelessly the entire way.

Giorgia responded politely, while thinking that she was quite tired of saying, "As expected of Italians."

"If you get the chance, Miss Borgia, you must visit the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore," the driver said. "It’s our pride and joy in Florence."

Giorgia was about to casually agree, but then she remembered Orsini Palace’s tower that offered a view of half of Rome. She asked, "Is the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore tall?"

"Yes, very tall," the driver said proudly. "It has the most perfect dome."

Although, in later centuries, a distance of about 300 kilometers wasn’t considered far—reachable by car in under three hours—in this era, where one could only travel by carriage, it took quite some time.

Giorgia, unaccustomed to the discomfort of travel in this world, was starting to doubt her decision to escape Rome’s heat by traveling to Florence, as she was jolted on the uneven roads. It was only then that the carriage finally entered Florence’s city gate.

By then, Florence wasn’t as Rodrigo had described—drenched in pouring rain. The ground’s water had mostly evaporated, and the sun peeked through the heavy clouds over the city, bathing this prosperous and affluent place in soft rays. The driver expertly steered the carriage along the main street, cheerfully exclaiming, "Miss Borgia, I don't know if you're lucky or if Florence is—it’s been drizzling here for over a month, and it stopped the moment you arrived. The sun even came out!"

Giorgia’s face went blank. "...You... you don’t need to say more."

At that moment, she was no longer happy.

After traveling a short while through the city, the driver spoke again: "Miss Borgia, look—that's the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore."

Although the rain hadn’t brought her joy, Giorgia still lifted the carriage curtain upon hearing this. The essence of the city hit her all at once.

She saw the golden yet gentle sunlight illuminating the ochre-hued city, with the bricks and rooftops reflecting fragmented, sparkling light, as if in love with the sun.

A bard stood in the square, playing a lyre. The men and women walking the streets, in both attire and demeanor, were far freer than those in Vatican. They spoke Italian with Tuscan accents, chatting about mundane topics. A hawk flew overhead, taking her gaze across the bustling streets to the grand, imposing white cathedral in the square beyond, topped with its strikingly pagan red dome.

Even after living in Vatican, seeing countless churches, she still found herself marveling at this one.

As she marveled, she suddenly noticed a figure standing atop the red dome. Her pupils widened, and when she tried to look closer, the figure vanished.

She stared blankly for a few seconds and then blinked hard, but the red drum dome remained empty, the sunlight streaming through the clouds caressing that warm shade of red.

Letting down the curtain, she leaned back against the carriage wall and rubbed her eyes.

It looked like tonight, she would have to do some eye exercises.