“First, I know my mother, Aspasia, has no idea about this. You took advantage of her trip back to Miletus to handle some business and hurried to get me out of here. Second, if I remember correctly, the Spartans have already begun their military campaign. Athens and the Delian League are no match for those Spartan beefcakes in a land war. Plenty of people oppose your rule now, and one of their reasons is that Pericles’ daughter isn’t a proper lady. And finally, you still refuse to believe I’m your biological daughter, don’t you?”

“……”

Pericles had no answer to Hilde’s words.

“Well, now that everything’s out in the open, I agree to being exiled. But you’ll have to give me a few things. Otherwise, I might not even make it to Byzantium alive. Don’t you think?”

“What do you want?”

Pericles didn’t look up.

“I want Sophia to take care of me.”

“Sophia has been with our family for over ten years. Wouldn’t it be unfair to send her to Byzantium?”

“You’re perfectly willing to send your own daughter somewhere that far away. Why should you care about a maid? Besides, Sophia belongs to me. You have to give her to me. I want money, too. It’s a long way there, and without money, I’ll die there. I also need some guards and a ship that can avoid pirates. Those aren’t unreasonable demands, are they?”

“Fine. I agree.”

“Since that’s settled, thank you for taking care of me all this time, Father.”

With that, Hilde turned and left.

Pericles watched this daughter, who didn’t resemble him in the slightest, his heart torn with conflicting feelings. She was breathtakingly beautiful; it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say she was Aphrodite, goddess of love, descended to earth. And yet her birth had brought Pericles such agony that he had nearly died from it. She had come into his life like a nightmare.

It all went back fifteen years.

That year was undoubtedly a good one for Pericles, who had held the office of archon in Athens for nearly ten years. In his forties, he and his lover, the beautiful Aspasia, had their first daughter. Following the custom of his wife’s hometown, Miletus, they named her Hilde.

But Pericles’ joy didn’t last long.

As Pericles looked at his daughter’s face, he couldn’t help feeling puzzled. She’d been astonishingly beautiful from the moment she was born. Her delicate features seemed divine, as if the gods themselves had carved them. She was utterly adorable and enchanting.

But her looks were nothing like Aspasia’s, with her dignified beauty and brown hair, or Pericles’, with his black curls and rugged features. The child had long silver hair, and her eyes were a vivid reddish purple—unlike either of her parents. The more Pericles thought about it, the more horrified and furious he became. His wife’s child had eyes, hair, and a face that looked nothing like his!

There could only be one explanation.

Pericles, archon of Athens,

had been cuckolded.

Black-haired Pericles had somehow fathered a silver-haired, purple-eyed daughter!

As the saying went, good news stayed behind closed doors, but bad news traveled a thousand miles. The rumor that Pericles had been cuckolded spread through all of Athens in no time. Everyone from commoners to slaves snickered about the scandal behind his back. The most popular version claimed that Aspasia was wanton by nature and must have secretly kept a handsome silver-haired, purple-eyed man. The two of them had carried on until she gave birth to a child like this, while Pericles became, beyond all doubt, the cuckolded archon.

Poor Pericles didn’t want the child, but Aspasia fiercely defended her and argued so effectively that Pericles couldn’t answer back. Faced with Aspasia’s doting love for the child, he was utterly powerless. He was furious, but he didn’t dare offend Aspasia. So he could only turn a blind eye, swallow his anger, and confine Hilde’s movements to Athens.

But the child seemed determined to make his life difficult.

Ever since she came along, Pericles hadn’t been able to get close to Aspasia. He thought that if this child wasn’t his, then at least the next one should be. So, once Aspasia had recovered, he started seeking her out. But every time he did, Hilde would protest with a wail, and Aspasia would hurry to comfort her before kicking Pericles right out of bed. As the years went by, Pericles realized he’d never again get the chance to hold his beloved wife in his arms.

And after that, things only got worse.

At one year old, she gave Pericles the middle finger.

By the time she was three and could run and jump, she was sneaking pepper into Pericles’ underwear.

When she was six or seven, she’d throw darts at the rump of Pericles’ horse while he was riding. The horse would bolt for twenty li, and Pericles had to cling desperately to its neck to keep from being thrown off and crushed to a pulp.

After that, whenever Pericles came home, Hilde would do everything she could to torment him. If she’d been his own daughter, that would’ve been one thing. But since she wasn’t even his flesh and blood, her behavior left Pericles trembling with rage. On top of that, Hilde hated reading, refused to learn a lady’s manners, and obeyed none of the religious rites. She couldn’t sit quietly at home, either, spending all day hanging around with the pretty maids. In Pericles’ eyes, she wasn’t his daughter—and she was completely useless.

But one thing was undeniable.

Hilde really was beautiful.

Anyone could be captivated by her looks.

Her delicate, almond-shaped face was as clear and flawless as the clouds atop Mount Olympus. Her long, silver-gray hair shone in the sunlight. Her deep purple eyes seemed to brim with every kind of allure. If you stared into them, you could see stars and seas drifting through their depths, enough to make time and space themselves fall under her spell. The purple robe Aspasia had prepared for Hilde only brought out her extraordinary beauty all the more. Even as she wandered alone in the courtyard, Hilde drew people to crowd around the railings and watch her. Everyone in Athens knew how beautiful Hilde was.

Time flew by.

In the blink of an eye, Hilde was fifteen.

This time, Pericles finally made up his mind to exile Hilde.

Hilde didn’t resent Pericles for it. After all, once she left, she’d be free again.