The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
The cold war between Cynthia and Masera had begun.

There was no way the people in the official residence hadn’t noticed the icy tension between them.
“They fought, didn’t they?”
“Definitely.”

The servants exchanged wary glances and nodded.
“Newlyweds always fight.”
Milchenko, the elderly butler, watched the two with a look of pity.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t dine together. They acted like strangers under the same roof.
Masera had expected Cynthia to beam and chatter cheerfully as usual, acting like nothing had happened. But Cynthia treated him like a ghost.
She showed that bright smile to everyone—everyone except Masera.

'I was harsh, sure. But I didn’t say anything wrong.'
Masera glanced out the window and caught sight of Cynthia building a snowman with Eugene.
Her wounded face from that day haunted him, stoking his guilt.

“…Still, I went too far. She doesn’t even know everything about me.”
He had thought she did.
Then he saw Cynthia smiling brightly and waving at someone.

It was Major Isaac Rodriguez.
That thorn in his eye had been getting closer to Cynthia lately.
And that bunny brooch Rodriguez wore on his uniform every day—wasn’t that something Cynthia bought during their honeymoon?

'A soldier wearing something like that…'
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging from their expressions and gestures, it looked like the three were planning to go out together.
“What’s his game?”
Rodriguez was Steve’s direct subordinate—Steve, who never passed up an opportunity to needle Masera. That alone made him untrustworthy. Not that Masera cared otherwise. That was the only reason this irritated him so much.

Cynthia had a habit of making exaggerated gestures when she was excited. Based on the information he’d lazily picked up, it seemed like she was talking about going to buy materials to build a cat house.
She had already tried to make one on her own twice—and failed both times.
Soon after she went back inside, she reemerged bundled up and leading Eugene outside. The way she waddled along under the weight looked like a dwarf gnome from some legend.

'What is this, the Battle of the Snowfields?'
Masera’s brow furrowed as he watched Cynthia and Eugene climb into Rodriguez’s car.
“That major—what is she thinking, trusting people so easily?”

A moment later, there was a knock and Diego stepped in, his eyes wide.
“Brigadier, are you going somewhere?”
Masera was putting on his coat with a grim look on his face.

* * *
The snow had stopped falling by the afternoon.
Cynthia set out toward the shopping district with Major Rodriguez and Eugene. Dalia came too.

With her parasol in hand, Cynthia held Eugene’s as they walked over a path of compacted snow that crunched under their feet.
Eugene was bundled in a scarf, a pom-pom knit hat, a thick coat, and teddy bear gloves. It was the complete opposite of the sleek, monochrome suits he usually preferred.
In the past, he would have flat-out refused such a garish clown-like getup. But today, he quietly let Cynthia dress him however she wanted.

“Eugene, you know what? This snow here—people gather it for others to stomp on.”
“……”
Crunch. Eugene stepped on a patch of soft snow with one foot. His cheeks and nose, red from the cold, were incredibly cute.

As for Rodriguez—why he was stomping around looking so delighted was anyone’s guess.
“The street is beautiful, isn’t it? I wanted to show you.”
Rodriguez, holding Eugene’s other hand, gave a kind smile.

“It really is. I hadn’t been out in a while, so I didn’t know. It’s so pretty. Thank you, Major.”
It was the season of Christmas here too, and the snow-covered streets were decorated with colorful holiday lights and ornaments.
“Both you and Eugene have seemed down lately. I thought a change of scenery might lift your spirits. I even made a reservation at a nice restaurant.”

“Dalia and I eat a lot, though. Can you handle it?”
At Cynthia’s remark, the major nodded as if to say, “Don’t worry.”
“I don’t have many places to spend money, after all. ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Eat as much as you’d like.”

Dalia, who was just as food-proud as Cynthia, grinned slyly.
“Eugene, here’s a present.”
Cynthia returned from a small shop and handed him a notebook and a pen.

“It’s fine even if it’s short. Just write to me whenever you feel like it.”
Eugene stared down at the notebook, then began scribbling something before handing it to her.
Cynthia bent forward, her expression hopeful as she looked at the page.

Hurry up, pick something, and let’s go home. I want out of this clown outfit.
'Still as prickly as ever, huh.'
“Cynthia, shall we stop by there?”

Dalia pointed to a store that sold baby goods.
Cynthia’s expression hardened when she saw Eugene’s face go rigid. She shook her head firmly. She had already guessed that the idea of a child between her and Masera was a source of anxiety for Eugene.
Instead, she pointed to the toy store next door.

“Eugene, want to look at toys?”
I’m not a kid.
“I’m going to buy something for me. Plan is to put it in your room. Adults pretend it’s for kids when really they just don’t want to be teased. That’s how it goes.”

Just as she was heading toward the toy store with Eugene—
WEEEEEE-OOOH—
The sound of an air raid siren ripped through the street, loud and jarring.

“What’s going on?”
Rodriguez, who had been trailing behind, looked around, startled.
Then he noticed something strange about Cynthia, who stood frozen. Her face was blank, her expression completely gone.

“Cynthia?”
BOOM—!
An explosion roared from a nearby factory. The shockwave shook the buildings and streetlamps.

People who had lived through war not long ago shrieked in terror at the familiar horror of bombardment.
“Cynthia! It’s dangerous!”
Rodriguez shouted over the surge of panicked people pushing against him. He tried to make his way through the crowd, but it was nearly impossible.

Cynthia, still standing there, couldn’t hear his or Dalia’s voices.
Beeeep—
The ringing in her ears grew and faded, her vision swimming as panic and hallucinations took hold.

In a flash, she was back in the middle of an air raid. Frozen like in a nightmare, her body refused to move.
“…Where was the shelter again?”
Fighter planes soared in perfect formation overhead. The vision was far too vivid for a hallucination.

As she looked around the black-and-white landscape, she spotted Eugene huddled in the crowd, arms over his head.
He, too, was a survivor of an air raid—and still carried deep fear of the sirens.
Cynthia recalled the sound of Masera’s voice during their honeymoon, when she had panicked at the sound of fireworks.

“It’s all right.”
It’s all right. The war is over.
Cynthia trembled, repeating the words over and over to herself in a whisper.

“The war is over. The war is over. The air raid is canceled…”
She tried to drown out the fighter jets in her mind, the screech of falling bombs like a meteor shower.
Then she saw a shop sign, hit by debris from the explosion, teetering.

Eugene was crouched beneath it.
“Eugene!”
She pushed through the crowd and dove toward him, pulling him into her arms.

Eugene stared up at her pale face.
She really did look a lot like his mother.
White, shining hair. A face so gentle it brought tears. Warm arms and a sweet smell.

His light green eyes brimmed with tears. The image of his mother overlapped with Cynthia’s and etched itself deep into his memory.
And behind her, Masera came running.
He wrapped his arms around both of them—just like that day, just like his father once had.

“You have to survive, sweetheart.”
Eugene’s parents had shielded him from a bombing with their bodies, dying on the spot.
CLANG!

The iron sign crashed to the ground, just barely missing them.
Eugene buried his face in Cynthia’s chest. His tiny lips trembled before he opened them.
“…Mom, Dad.”

His voice was hollow as he tilted his head back and wailed.
“Mom, Dad, don’t leave me behind! Waaaah!”