The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

When I finally woke up from fainting due to the explosion—
I had to eat that flavorless rice gruel again.
“I was really… worried. If the falling sign hadn’t luckily tilted to the side, it would’ve been awful…”

Dalia looked down at the bandage on my hand with somber eyes.
I could feel her sincerity in worrying about me, and it warmed my heart.
“Yeah, I was lucky. Sorry for making you worry.”

I thought of Masera, who had shielded me and Eugene with his own body.
I didn’t know where he’d come from so suddenly…
Anyway, ever since that day he’d deeply wounded my heart, I had been sulking hard. I’m human too, after all. I knew the longer our cold war dragged on, the worse it’d be.

‘Still, if he was willing to throw himself like that, he must not have meant what he said out of hatred. He’s probably sensitive and hurt too, and what can you do if a sharp-cheeked cheese cat isn’t good at expressing himself…’
As Dalia helped me bathe, I asked her a few questions.
I’d only asked what kind of treatment people with postwar trauma usually received, but just like Masera had, her expression immediately darkened.

“With the consent of their families, they’re admitted to psychiatric wards, restrained, and given tranquilizers.”
“…Why?”
I’d known the social perception wasn’t great, but I was shocked—it was far worse than I expected.

“To prevent self-harm or suicide. Especially for veterans… because they receive a pension until death…”
Dalia trailed off, unable to continue.
To think they’d confine people to a psychiatric ward for life just to keep the pension from being cut off. I was so stunned, I couldn’t speak.

Only then did I begin to understand why Masera had reacted so sensitively.
From his perspective, I probably looked like just another ignorant princess who never knew the war or its weight.
‘I was too hasty. I thought it’d be something like prescription meds or therapy sessions.’
Anyway, I needed to talk things out with Masera and make peace. We needed to work together.

As Dalia changed my bandages and helped me into fresh clothes, I asked,
“Dalia, is the brigadier at the quarters?”
“He stepped out earlier, but he should be back soon.”

I put [N O V E L I G H T] on a thick quilted coat to go meet him, but outside I spotted an officer in a Federal Army uniform.
It was Brigadier Steve—Major Rodriguez’s direct superior.
I didn’t want to greet him. He wasn’t on good terms with Masera.

“Oh, isn’t it Her Highness the Princess?”
But he spoke first.
I put on my best society smile and turned to face Brigadier Steve.

“Yes, hello.”
He noticed my bandaged hand and made a sympathetic expression.
“I heard you were injured in the recent factory explosion. Are you all right?”

“As you can see, I’m in good health.”
“So it seems.”
Then why ask? I grumbled inwardly and was about to end the conversation and walk off.

But the persistent Brigadier Steve kept talking.
“I’ve heard things aren’t going well between you and Brigadier del Visente lately.”
Who said that? With so many people at the quarters, maybe idle chatter was leaking out.

“We just had a bit of a lover’s quarrel. Newlyweds, you know how it is.”
I gave him a half-truth.
Watching my smiling face, he got to the real point.

“Is it because the investors are pulling out and delaying development? They seem to think it’s because of you. And to blame his wife for that—how terrible.”
He went ahead and invented his own narrative of conflict.
‘If a major investor pulls out, of course others will follow! It’s all because of you!’

That man must’ve intended this from the beginning, investing a large sum just to sabotage.
He added with a smug tone,
“Actually, the rumors say there are no resources at all in that wasteland.”

That was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who spread that rumor, you gossiping little weasel.
But if I got angry first, I’d lose. I softened my eyes and smiled.
“Investing in minerals and resources is a gamble, after all. Unless you have a beast’s heart, it’s hard to take the risk. It’s wiser to make stable investments when you lack excess funds.”

I skillfully employed the veiled language I’d learned in Medeia.
Basically, I was treating him like a coward with no money.
Brigadier Steve, unfazed, gave a relaxed smile in return.

“If things halt like this, the longer it drags on, the more loss there will be. Don’t you have a duchess as an older sister? You can’t let your husband bear it all alone—why not ask the ducal family for investment?”
So that’s his way of saying, “It’s all your fault and you’re doing nothing”? Looks like he knows how to speak noble too.
‘Didn’t they say recently he’s been spending time with the Duke?’

It seemed the Duke and Brigadier Steve had joined hands.
Maybe the Duke caused trouble using Steve to pressure Masera into asking for help?
As I fell into thought, I suddenly saw someone in the distance—and my eyes narrowed, then widened.

Masera, in an unbelievable lover-boy version, was approaching holding a bouquet in one hand and a cake box in the other.
‘Who did he buy that for?’
With a stony expression, Masera walked straight toward Steve and me, then abruptly held out a bouquet of misty flowers with a ribbon.

He bought it… for me?
What kind of world-shaking event is this?
Startled, I blinked wide and took the flowers.

Even Brigadier Steve, who seemed to wish for our relationship to be miserable, looked slightly surprised.
“Well, my brave comrade’s become a romantic.”
Despite Steve’s teasing, Masera—like steel tempered a thousand times in ridicule—showed not a flicker of emotion.

“The war’s been over for a while now.”
He said casually, then held out his other hand to me.
“I remembered you liked cherries. So I bought a cherry cake on the way.”

“Wow, my husband is the best, remembering even the little things!”
I put on the image of a sweet newlywed couple, conscious of Steve’s presence. Masera’s stiff expression was a bit of a variable, but—
I laced my fingers into Masera’s and held it up proudly.

“The war’s over now, so I hope Brigadier Steve also finds someone to love!”
From the way his smile began to crack, it seemed I’d won.
Leaving the defeated behind, we headed to the glass greenhouse.

As soon as we arrived, Masera quickly withdrew his hand and asked stiffly,
“Do you always smile so easily at anyone?”
“Yes. Smiling brings blessings, and it costs nothing. What’s the problem?”

I answered just as stiffly.
Didn’t you buy a gift to make peace? Why are you picking a fight again?
He set down the cake box, grabbed at his bangs, and let out a deep sigh with his head turned aside.

“…Do as you please. It’s your business.”
“And this—was it for visiting the sick?”
When I pressed him about the meaning of the bouquet, he looked down and darted his eyes around, then slumped into a chair and tugged at his tie.

“No, it’s nothing. Just—nothing.”
“‘Nothing,’ as in, you hand bouquets to just anyone? Unlike a smile, this actually costs money, you know?”
At my pointed comment, he pressed a hand to his eye and shook his head.

“It was my first time going into a flower shop.”
Imagining him awkwardly picking out flowers made me chuckle.
I sat across from him, resting my chin on my hand, beaming.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.
“I…”
“Hmm?”

Masera closed his eyes tight, then opened them again and spoke formally.
“I was wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”

“That day—judging your concern for Eugene in a negative light, and speaking so harshly about you. Thank you for caring about and thinking of Eugene.”
You really dragged it out just to apologize, huh? Cute.
“To be honest, I wasn’t entirely blameless either. I didn’t realize what treatment meant to someone suffering from postwar trauma. I didn’t know they could be confined in a psychiatric ward for life.”

I reached out my hand to him.
“Just like I have my sensitive spots, I touched one of yours. I spoke without thinking. I’m sorry. So let’s make peace and get along, okay?”
He stared at my hand like a wary cat, then reluctantly took it for a moment before letting go.

“I only said what needed to be said. But acting like a happily married couple…”
“Wow, the cherry cake looks delicious!”
I opened the cake box, completely missing his tsundere remark.

* * *
Duke of Recanosa’s estate.
Helene hosted a banquet for upper-class noblewomen. Some from the press and finance world were also in attendance.

“Duchess, is it true that royal treasures are buried on the land owned by the youngest princess?”
Someone interested in the wasteland development asked, and Helene gave a gentle smile.
After all, this banquet was designed to spread the narrative she wanted.

“I’ll have to ask my sister for details… but from what the surveyors are saying, there’s a bit of concern.”
‘Sorry, Father, who wants that land to be worth something, but I’m now part of the ducal family.’
The Duke wanted to see Masera and Cynthia come crawling for help.

And of course, Helene wanted the same.
She wanted to put that war orphan and fake princess maid in their place—once and for all.
As she dabbed her lips with a napkin, Helene thought,

‘By tomorrow, the article will be out. It’ll say there was nothing but foolish hope buried in that land.’
Helene was convinced that the royal land she had inherited—‘Dies’—was the real treasure.
All because of a phrase she had once found by chance among her mother’s things.

“The legacy of the Bariesa Dynasty can only be found by the blood of the Frost Queen.
To the true heir shall return the golden glory of the day.”
‘Dies’ meant ‘day,’ and the blood of the Frost Queen wasn’t Cynthia—it was her.