Page 82 of DATE
"Since you fled from the Holy Roman Empire and have long been without a background, it’s not safe for you to go anywhere without proper identity."
Hedy was momentarily stunned, and then she let out a long sigh of relief in her heart.
Was this to say… the Medici family had officially become her support?
She had been forcibly granted a family lineage and background in this era. Could she now be considered half of the nobility?
"Lord—" She still looked at him with some uncertainty, wanting to clarify a few things.
"Have you never had any doubts about me?"
This question was indeed somewhat inappropriate, but it needed to be addressed.
When she first entered the Ducal Palace of Ducayle, her identity and past were rather vague. Now, the Medici family was ignoring all of that, which didn't seem like a good sign.
Lorenzo looked at the girl and realized she seemed to be constantly alert and on guard, as if ready for anything at any moment.
"What do you want to ask?"
"Are you... completely uninterested in my past?"
A fugitive, a foreigner, an alchemist, and someone with all sorts of inexplicable skills.
"Everyone has secrets," Lorenzo said calmly.
"What we need from you is just your loyalty."
When Girolamo Savonarola woke up, he still felt sharp pains all over his body.
The places he had whipped with the scourge were festering, and his condition was clearly worsening.
This was a good thing.
Compared to the women who smeared themselves with makeup or the merchants covered in the stench of copper, only he—only he was devout enough.
God would ultimately witness the destruction of all this.
The ascetic monk slowly sat up, preparing to complete his prayers for the day.
A clay pot in the distance suddenly moved.
"—Who?"
He tried to turn his head, but the fatigue of his body made his reactions slow, his movements stiff and weak.
Before he could utter another word, a chill suddenly spread through his wounded chest.
So cold, so painful, what was it?
Savonarola instinctively raised his hand to his chest, only to feelsomething cold and hard.
Blood flowed in a steady stream, and it felt as though his chest had been pierced.
He opened his mouth, but before he could even see the assassin's face behind him, he slowly lost consciousness from the searing pain.
God... Why didn't You come to save me...
The ascetic's body was secretly placed into the straw at the back of a cart, taken out to the outskirts, and burned completely.
