The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

“Because there is evidence that funds from the ducal house have flowed into an arms trafficking organization.”
“Funds from the ducal house? My wife did say she would pay off Count Visente’s gambling debts, but…”
“No. This is separate from the gambling debt—she made direct transactions with the organization.”

Masera continued with unwavering firmness.
“Resolve it quickly before your house becomes the organization’s personal bank. This is both a warning and your final opportunity—for the sake of your venerable lineage. Otherwise, I will consider you an accomplice.”
Masera stood from his seat and glanced up, eyes cold and heavy.

“I apply the law equally, no matter who the subject is.”
The Duke instinctively flinched, recalling the time Masera had thoroughly beaten him back when they were both in the military.
“What are you implying by that?”

“I’ve been showing courtesy out of regard for your noble status, but…”
Masera spoke slowly as he caught the slight tremble in the Duke’s eyes.
“If you don’t conduct yourself properly, it might no longer remain a secret between the two of us.”

A {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} clear threat to beat him down in front of everyone.
The Duke’s face turned pale.
‘Helene… just what on earth have you done?’

To jeopardize not only herself but the entire ducal family...
* * *
While dining with Masera, Cynthia asked casually,

“You’re investigating the ducal house, aren’t you? It was in the paper.”
A follow-up article had revealed that the ducal house was behind the bribery and cover-up of evidence by a senior official, throwing all of Lutemia into an uproar.
“Yes.”
‘Is she going to try to stop me? After all, the duchess is her family.’

But contrary to his concerns, Cynthia smiled brightly.
“Please conduct a thorough investigation and let them experience prison life. Maybe it’ll straighten them out.”
A relief, at least.

Masera did not ask Cynthia about the photograph with the Duke.
Though she occasionally showed signs of guilt, as if hiding something, he feared she would run far away if he pressed her.
After their meal, back in his office, he scowled while crumpling the letter Helene had sent along with the photo.

「You are nothing more than a tool to Cynthia. Once you’re no longer useful, she’ll seek profit elsewhere—whether that’s the Duke or another man of power.」
“Useful…”
It felt like he was facing the thing he’d always feared most, spelled out directly.
He regretted the words he’d once said: that their marriage was one of convenience and he wouldn’t care who she met.

Had Cynthia, upon hearing that, been preparing to leave him all along?
Clack.
Just then, the door opened and Cynthia entered, cheeks flushed.

Realizing her mistake, she belatedly knocked on the already-open door—an act so silly it was endearing.
“I made some chewy cookies. Would you like to try them as dessert?”
The once-aloof and cold persona was long gone as she held out a plate full of cookies.

Masera relaxed his expression and smiled gently.
“What flavor are they?”
“Chewy.”

She set the plate on his desk and blinked, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
It was reminiscent of when Eugene had shyly offered him a knife-shaped twig.
Masera tasted the cookie under Cynthia’s hopeful gaze.

As she had said, it really was chewy.
“It’s delicious.”
He wanted to give a long and thoughtful review, but nothing more eloquent came to mind.

Still, Cynthia lit up with delight.
“Want to eat it again next time?”
“I want to eat it for the rest of my life.”

“That’s impossible. I can’t make them every day.”
She giggled, popping a cookie into her mouth.
Then it happened.

Rumble, rumble—
The floor and lights began to shake. Another earthquake.
Cynthia immediately dove under the desk.

Masera was briefly stunned by her expertly practiced movements—like someone who had been through many drills—but his surprise turned to shock at what followed.
“This one feels pretty strong. Brigadier, hurry and—”
Cynthia looked up and saw Masera staring down at her in alarm—and realized something was wrong.

Both of her hands were resting on his thighs.
It looked like a scene straight out of an intense office romance manga.
The tremor soon stopped.

Masera crouched down and gently pulled her out by the hands.
“After the collapse of the Fallen Empire, earthquakes have been more frequent. It might even be affecting the ocean’s glaciers.”
He spoke faster than usual—a clear sign he was flustered.

Even the act of standing up was mortifying.
As Cynthia tried to slip away quietly, he caught her wrist and drew her back.
“Tonight.”

“Yes?”
His face, holding onto her, looked oddly… forlorn.
“Will you sleep with me?”

Though he asked with perfectly wholesome tone and posture, something in his voice made it sound very unwholesome. His recent mischievous streak didn’t help either.
‘He acts harmless, but what if he suddenly devours me like a beast?’
They had already kissed once—even if it was for show.

And as a married couple, taking things further wouldn’t be strange.
But if they crossed that line, there would be no going back. It would be like a genre shift into the dark depths of my sister’s trashy romance novels.
“Are… are you planning to start, um, a family?”

Cynthia asked in a mosquito-sized voice.
Masera froze, almost like something broke inside him. The fountain pen in his hand slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor.
He remembered one of his past outbursts—how he’d once said that even if she had a child, it wouldn’t change anything, so she shouldn’t even dream of it.

“It’s sudden, but…”
He needed time to gather his thoughts, and only after a long silence did he finally speak again—now with firm resolve.
“I’ll do my best.”

Seeing his ears turn bright red, Cynthia flailed her hands.
“No, wait! I wasn’t suggesting a baby!”
“Then I’ll do my best to bring joy without consequences—”

“No! Not that either!”
It was clear now that they were thinking completely different things.
Masera, still looking prim and proper, said,

“If you ever want to, just tell me. I’m always ready—”
“Ahhh!”
Cynthia couldn’t take it anymore and clamped her hand over his mouth.

As he looked at her blushing furiously, Masera recalled the contents of Helene’s letter.
「Would it not matter to you even if she were a murderer?」
‘It wouldn’t matter.’

She seemed like someone who couldn’t even kill a bug, but if by chance Cynthia had done such a thing… then he would be her accomplice, too.
* * *
At the same time, at the Duke of Recanosa’s estate.

The enraged Duke clutched at his jet-black hair.
「Also, there is still a remaining balance from the Duchess’s deal.」
Through the organization’s reply, he discovered that Helene had embezzled funds from the ducal merchant union.

A disastrous offense that could bring the house to ruin.
The royal family of Medeia—his wife’s blood relatives—would never overlook this.
The true authority of the ducal house rested with the Grand Madam, and she would likely make a cold, calculated decision to hand over the duchy to a noble of Medeian blood to preserve the lineage.

He had married a fallen princess based on her bloodline alone—yet was now at risk of losing everything.
He summoned Helene’s maid and asked if there had been any suspicious behavior lately.
“She’s been asking for two servings of dessert every night. That was odd.”

“Why?”
“She doesn’t even like sweets. Didn’t you know?”
The maid then left the room, saying there was something he needed to see.

She returned shortly and handed him an item she’d found while cleaning under the carpet.
A man’s cufflink.
Could it be… that she had been sneaking a member of the organization into her bedroom each night?

He didn’t care about love. An affair meant nothing. But embezzling ducal funds and handing them over to the organization—was another matter.
The more he thought about it, the more it was clear—Helene brought more harm than benefit. He would be better off cutting ties before things got worse.
Marrying her had been the worst decision of his life.

‘I should get a divorce.’
He had a replacement anyway. One who, despite being fake, felt even more genuine.