The Vampire and the Pope's Illegitimate Daughter

Chapter 3

As night fell, a breeze carrying a hint of moisture finally descended upon Rome. It passed through the city's alleys, leapt over the corners of stone-built houses, brushed against the olive leaves outside Giorgia's window, and lingered around her windowsill, making the flames of the hanging lamp flicker.

"This morning, Jofré was all excited, telling me he saw Giorgia flying on the rooftop. He's not a little kid anymore; how can he still confuse reality and dreams like that?" Lucrezia muttered while helping Giorgia tidy up the books on her desk.

Like Giorgia, Lucrezia had long, curly, golden hair, though unlike Giorgia, who always kept hers tied up, Lucrezia loved her hair and let it cascade behind her like a golden waterfall. In the glow of dusk and candlelight, her hair looked especially beautiful.

Adriana's daughter-in-law, Giulia Farnese, and Giorgia were leaning on opposite ends of a cassapanca bench. Giorgia had her head buried in a book, while Giulia was twisting a lock of her hair with her right hand, smiling as she said, "Isn't it rather interesting? A flying woman in Vatican—it could be an angel."

Her voice was soft and melodious, always carrying a trace of an elusive smile. She was only a year or two older than Giorgia, but her body and demeanor exuded a mature allure unique to women, something Juan would say came from marriage.

She was born into a noble family of mercenaries, betrothed to Adriana's son, Orso, when she was thirteen, and came to Orsini Palace with a dowry of three hundred florins. Since Orso was a few years younger than her, it wasn't until this spring that they finally married, with the ceremony presided over by Rodrigo himself.

Giorgia attended the wedding with her siblings. Sixteen-year-old Giulia wore a white satin bridal dress, her face sweet, her eyes soft—not looking at her husband Orso, but at the sixty-year-old cardinal Rodrigo.

Amid Juan's chatter—"Look at how beautiful the bride is, Giorgia. You'll be even more beautiful when you get married"—Giorgia discerned yet another Italian love story in the exchanged glances between the two.

After the wedding, Orso was sent by Rodrigo to a Borgia estate in Bassanello to learn about military command. Meanwhile, his beautiful wife, Giulia, stayed home and became Rodrigo's mistress.

When Giorgia learned of this, all she could think was, "Truly, Italians are something else." Occasionally, when visiting Rodrigo's palace, she'd find herself staring at his still-charismatic, though greying, face and randomly recalling a phrase she used to know: "The old blade still cuts."

Giulia was beautiful, gentle, and lively, and had a close relationship with Lucrezia. Knowing that Giorgia preferred staying home reading, she would also bring back books that Adriana had forbidden for them to read.

The copy of *The Decameron* had been procured by her brother from another city.

Giorgia closed the book, turned to glance at Lucrezia, who was still facing away while tidying the books, and then looked back at Giulia with a smile. "I think they'd call me a witch."

The current Pope, Innocent, had issued a bull a few years ago condemning witchcraft, sparking a wave of witch hunts across Europe that had caused widespread panic among women.

At Giorgia's words, Giulia quickly sat up straight, a serious expression on her face. "Giorgia, you mustn't joke about that."

Giorgia waved her hand dismissively to show she was only kidding. "It's just that I heard they burned a foreign woman in Subiaco last month, so I was feeling a bit sentimental."

At this time, single women, widows, or foreign women traveling alone were often accused of being witches and then subjected to public execution by burning.

Giorgia had often thought that if, when she had crossed over, it wasn't her soul but her physical body that had traveled through time—her dreadlocks, hoodies, denim shorts, black cat tattoo on her calf, red Air Jordans, and skateboard in hand—she probably would've been tied to a stake and burned before even figuring out where she was.

She got up from the bench and put the book back in the bookshelf. By now, Lucrezia had also tidied Giorgia's desk, which was usually piled high with all sorts of books. Standing with her hands on her hips, Lucrezia beamed with pride. "Don't worry, Giorgia. While you're in Florence, I'll guard your desk and bookshelf and make sure Adriana doesn't find out about your little secret!"

Giorgia's eyes curved into a smile. "I'll be counting on you, Lucrezia."

When things quieted down, Giulia took Lucrezia back to her own room to rest. Giorgia dismissed the maids who came to help her prepare for bed and sat idly by the window for quite some time.

The sun shone brightly during the day, and at night the moonlight was just as brilliant. Sitting by the window, she could not only admire the moon but also feel the rare summer breeze of Rome. She yawned a few times, intending to grab a book to read, but then thought about how Lucrezia had just tidied her desk and bookshelf—she couldn't bring herself to mess it up again so soon, knowing she'd face the girl's pouting, babyish scolding. And so, she resisted the urge.

When everything had finally quieted down and no figures moved about the Corinthian columns of the courtyard corridor, Giorgia stood up from her chair, closed the window, and drew the heavy velvet curtains, usually reserved for winter.

With the moonlight blocked by the curtains, the room was now only lit by candlelight, with flames flickering among the quartz decorations, casting intertwined silver and gold shadows across the floor.

Drawing the curtains seemed like a signal—Giorgia's previously drowsy gaze suddenly became sharp. She lifted the hem of her shiny satin dress, ran to the dais of her four-poster bed, crouched down, and pulled out a set of plain clothes from under the bed.

She removed the pearl chain from her head and braided her hair into two plaits, wrapping them tightly with a black-and-white headscarf. She then took off her luxurious gown, replacing it with the plain male attire.

In just ten minutes, the Borgia lady transformed into an ordinary boy of the Roman streets.

Without the ornate robe, Giorgia's steps felt lighter. She pulled back the curtains, opened the wooden blinds, climbed onto the windowsill, and, after confirming that no one was in the courtyard, reached for the protruding lintel above her window. Using her arms, she hoisted herself up onto the ledge.

But this wasn't her destination.

Under the moon's illumination, she used her right leg for momentum and leaped over the lush olive tree in front of her window, landing on the lintel of a nearby window.

This still wasn't her final goal.

Like an agile climber, she traversed the building, leaping from roof ledges and running across the connected eaves, crossing the central fountain garden of Orsini Palace, until she reached the southeast tower. She climbed up the tower, using the arched lintels of its windows as footholds, until she reached the very top.

It took her only twenty minutes to climb from her window to the top of the tower.

After all the climbing and leaping, her breathing was heavy, but she didn't sit down immediately. Instead, she stood at the edge, gazing into the distance.

Vatican City is situated on the Vatican Hill, in the northwest corner of Rome. Though the Orsini Palace tower didn't have quite as perfect a vantage point as Vatican Palace, climbing to its summit still offered a panoramic view of the lights of Rome.

In this era, Rome had not fully escaped the nightmare of the Black Death, which had ravaged it during the Middle Ages. In the poorer areas, people still died of the plague every day. With Pope Innocent entirely devoted to a life of luxury and preparing for a crusade against the Turks, the papal treasury was empty; the Pope even had to pawn the episcopal crown on Palm Sunday just to buy palm leaves to distribute to the people. This led to rampant simony, and the Church openly sold indulgences at high prices. For a sum of money, you could buy a piece of paper that absolved you of theft, robbery, or even murder.

As a result, Rodrigo had always forbidden the young girls staying at Orsini Palace from venturing into Rome alone, out of both fear of the plague that had plagued Europe for centuries and concern for the safety of lone women.

Rome, at the end of the fifteenth century, was no longer the glorious empire it once was. It had become a paradise for criminals and a purgatory for those seeking peace.

Yet it was also bustling and vibrant.

Just from those scattered lights, one could glimpse the prosperity of centuries past.

It was only last year that Giorgia discovered this place offered such a good view of Rome. At that time, Juan had excitedly brought her to the base of the tower, saying that the maids of Orsini Palace mentioned that the height of the tower allowed a view of half of Rome. But Adriana, out of concern for the children's safety, had locked the door to the tower, forbidding them from climbing it. So getting up there directly wasn't a realistic option.

"I really want to see what Rome looks like from up there," Juan had said dejectedly.

Giorgia hadn't said anything then, just ruffled the soft curls atop his head.

That night, she changed into the boyish clothes she had hidden, ran across the rooftops of Orsini Palace, and climbed to the top of the tower.

It was her first time parkouring since arriving in this world.

This body was still young, barely a teenager—weak, without the stamina, strength, or reflexes of her previous self. By the time she reached the top, she was gasping for air, and had to lean against a haystack on the roof to rest for a long time before dragging her body, slowly recovering from the exertion, to the edge to admire Rome's many twinkling lights at night.

It made her think of who she used to be.

Climbing peaks by her own hands, crossing chasms by her own feet—the view from high above was indeed beautiful.

It was also the reason she'd started practicing parkour.

One day, she'd scale that wall and go to a place where no tower could block her.

Giorgia stayed on the tower for a while before retracing her path. However, before she climbed back through her window, she noticed that the curtain had been moved, so instead of entering, she jumped from the window lintel to the corridor ledge and then leaped down along the column.

She removed her headscarf, letting the two long braids hang over her shoulders. She smoothed her hair at her temples, adjusted her breathing and expression, opened the door, and walked in.

The light of the lamp spilled into the room, clearly illuminating all the furnishings—and the boy sitting on the Dante chair by the desk, dressed in a white chemise and black chausses.

He had dark brown hair, soft and falling over his shoulders. It seemed to be a trait passed down in the Borgia family—every member had soft, glossy hair. But unlike his soft hair, his features were hard, his brows furrowed, giving his face an inexplicable harshness. Yet his light blue eyes were as clear as a mountain stream, untouched by any impurity.

He didn't seem fazed by Giorgia's male attire; he simply said in a flat tone, "The desk is so tidy—looks like Lucrezia's been here cleaning up."

"You know that little girl wouldn't miss the chance to scold me," Giorgia replied, walking past him without changing her expression. She tossed her headscarf onto her bed. "Cesare, it's so late, and you're not asleep yet—do you need something?"

"I heard you're going to Florence?" Cesare turned his head to look at her. "So, I guess you know."

Giorgia was a bit surprised. "Looks like you already knew."

"Not for long—just this morning," Cesare said, rising from the chair and stretching his long limbs. "I always knew Mother had a sister who got married in Florence. Not long ago, a messenger was sent here, and Mother, after much hesitation, wrote a letter and sent it to Father's palace. And today, Father summoned you alone."

Giorgia smiled. "I didn't know you were interested in these trivial things."

Cesare also smiled. "Father's lessons—observe carefully. Even trivial matters can decide victory or defeat."

"You've succeeded," Giorgia said, starting to undo her braids. "What do you want me to say? You've won?"

"No, I've come to say goodbye," Cesare's smile faded. "I'm going to the University of Pisa."

Rodrigo had long planned to send Cesare and Juan to receive a university education. Cesare had previously studied law at the University of Perugia, so Giorgia wasn't surprised. She undid one of her braids and casually asked, "What are you going to study? Military theory, as you wanted?"

"No, folklore, canon law, and theology," Cesare replied, tapping the desk lightly.

Giorgia looked up at him, meeting his slightly cold blue gaze.

"This is just the beginning, it doesn't matter," he said. "What I want, I will get."