The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
“Puechh-!”

After a blockbuster-level weekend, I had become a complete patient.
On the drive back to the residence, I couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing. It seemed the cold had evolved into the flu.
“Brigadier... I’m sick.”

“If you’re sick, at least you’re quiet. That’s a plus.”
Masera was still the same sullen grump. Still, he was kind enough to offer his shoulder.
I leaned my head against his stiff shoulder, sniffled, and began piecing the events back together.

Masera had been the first to enter the room where I had disappeared, and despite finding the note that implied I’d run away for love, he still came looking for me.
What would the typical male lead in a novel have done?
“The male lead, furious after thinking the female lead ran away, locks her up and ties her like a demon-exorcism ritual...!”

Out of nowhere, I remembered a tragic romance plotline my sister told me about in my past life.
Tied up like a demon-exorcism ritual? How was she supposed to eat or use the bathroom like that? That’s just straight-up cruel.
How is that even considered romance? My sister, who liked that kind of story, must’ve been out of her mind.

I sneakily glanced up at Masera, who oddly gave off tragic male lead vibes.
In just one day, shadows had settled beneath his eyes, and he looked ruinously exhausted.
When his languid eyes looked down at me, I quickly shut mine again.

“The Brigadier searched all night for you without sleeping.”
Someone had told me that.
Just knowing there was someone who would worry and come looking for me made my heart feel warm. Until now, I’d always been a lonely outsider thrown into a strange world.

Heh.
Someone even wiped my runny nose... Huh?
I snapped my eyes open at the sensation of something rubbing my nose.
Masera was plugging my nose with a wad of tissue.

“You’re like a broken faucet.”
He said it in a calm tone.
I couldn’t tell whether it was a joke to spare me embarrassment ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ or if he really meant it.

Unable to breathe through my nose anymore, I asked in a nasal voice:
“But Brigadier, are you okay? Did you catch my cold?”
“There wasn’t anything contagious going on between us.”

A brief awkward silence followed.
Thinking back, we definitely did do something contagious that night.
“...I’m not that weak.”

Masera, who had been silent, finally said.
“I… I see.”
I slowly pulled my head away and put a little distance between us. Whether it was from the cold or the embarrassment, heat rushed to my face.

‘Why did he kiss me back then?’
I didn’t have the courage to ask.
Masera rested his chin on his hand and stared out the car window.

I blankly gazed at the side profile of his sharp jawline and nose bridge, then quickly turned my eyes the other way.
“Starting tomorrow.”
Still staring out the window, he spoke.

“We’ll sleep in the same room.”
“Because it’s dangerous?”
“Yes. I won the word-chain game, so even if you say no, I’ll do it.”

Honestly, cadmium was a foul play! He won with that and now wants to sleep in the same room?
Our conversation ended there. My nose was so stuffy I couldn’t talk properly anyway.
Suddenly, soft strands of hair brushed against my neck. A chilly scent like dawn lingered at the tip of my nose.

Masera, having dozed off, was now lightly leaning his head on my shoulder.
‘He said he didn’t sleep at all.’
No wonder he’s tired.

He was a large man, big enough to cover me entirely, so it was a bit of a burden. But even a man like him must sometimes need someone to lean on.
* * *
As soon as we arrived at the residence, a soldier wearing a white doctor’s coat over a military uniform came to my room.

It was Captain Carlton, the medical officer.
After finishing his examination, he pushed up his glasses and took out a syringe.
“Princess, are you ready to be brave?”

His tone matched that of a former pediatrician, but his expression was completely lifeless.
When I saw the alarmingly thick needle, I shook my head.
“No?”

“It’ll sting a little.”
“Aaaaaaagh!”
That wasn’t “a little sting.” That was hell.

My arm felt like it was on fire. It was an excruciating intravenous shot that sent pain shooting through my veins.
“One more sting~ You’re not a baby, are you~?”
“Aaaargh!”

His words treated me like a child, but the needle was for a full-grown adult. A cruel doctor.
After sticking me with an enormous IV needle, he even clapped three times in mock praise.
“Princess, do you know anything about your family medical history? It’s for the prescriptions.”

“Uh, I’m not really sure…”
Was he referring to my albinism? That shouldn’t be publicly known yet. I pretended not to know.
Then the captain, staring at me closely, asked,

“Strawberry flavor? Grape?”
“S-Strawberry.”
“Apply this ointment to your face. It’s as pink as a strawberry.”

He was talking about my cheeks, which had turned red from the sun.
After Captain Carlton left, I discovered the cold medicine he gave me was not strawberry-flavored but the bitter taste of adulthood, and I trembled with betrayal.
A little later, Eugene came to my room.

“I heard you caught a cold from the snowman.”
“Who said that?”
“Doctor Uncle. He said you cried like a five-year-old when you got your shot.”

“I did not! I didn’t even flinch!”
Damn you, Carlton...
“I drew some cats to help you get better.”

Eugene spread out a drawing of cats. Keeping a safe distance, he covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, unwilling to risk catching it.
I giggled.
“Eugene, did you take good care of the cats while I was gone?”

“Dalia and I fed them and changed the water so it wouldn’t freeze. We finished all the winter prep.”
Eugene, now a proper can-opener servant, said proudly. Then he placed his drawing on my nightstand.
“Don’t die. Uncle will be sad.”

“The Brigadier worried about me?”
“Yeah. He looked sad. Even if his face always looks the same, it has expressions.”
After Eugene left, wishing for my recovery, I dozed off again.

How much time had passed?
Half-asleep, I felt a gentle hand stroking my hair.
It was an affectionate touch—like my father’s hand patting my head when I slept as a child.

I half-opened my eyes and saw a sturdy figure in uniform walking away.
‘It was the Brigadier.’
Did he think I wouldn’t notice if he snuck in and touched my hair?

I smiled faintly to myself… then suddenly snapped my eyes open.
‘Wait, I didn’t think I’d fall for him too?’
What do I do?

The emotions from when he kissed me rushed back.
At the same time, a deep sense of anxiety overwhelmed me—because I knew this had an ending.
I just hoped this life would last as long as possible.

* * *
“The Liberty Society scattered their organization to evade military surveillance. In that process, they split into moderates and radicals. The place where my group gathered is…”
Based on the confession of a woman arrested at the scene, they identified a fireworks game parlor as the meeting spot.

Masera led his unit and arrested those who had conspired to kidnap Cynthia.
Masera personally interrogated the head of the group.
The ringleader was a young man around Masera’s age.

“Brigadier Visente. No, Masera Giez. Do you remember me?”
At the man’s question, Masera tilted his head and looked him over.
The man added,

“We met at the war orphanage.”
Honestly, Masera didn’t remember. There were too many kids like that.
Just because they were from the same orphanage didn’t stir any particular feelings. All he felt was a mild realization that the kids who once cried while searching for their parents had also grown up.

“Masera, you were persecuted just like us. Shouldn’t you be on our side?”
“Your side?”
“To eradicate Bariesa’s bloodline so that the monarchy can never rise again. That’s the mission of the Liberty Society, which carries on the will of the revolutionaries who tried to change this rotten world.”

Masera, sleep-deprived, pressed his heavy eyelids.
“Kidnapping the princess to demand ransom—is that your noble cause?”
“Think of it as operational funding.”

The man smirked ominously.
“The princess is quite pretty, isn’t she? Haven’t you played enough with her by now? Weren’t you secretly hoping we’d take care of her for you?”
Masera reached out and grabbed the man’s jaw tightly.

“Urgh!”
Perhaps it was from exhaustion, but the wound on Masera’s cheek from the raid throbbed painfully.
“Royalty, revolutionaries—doesn’t matter. To me, they’re all just perpetrators.”

Masera muttered lowly, tightening his grip.
“My mother was pushed to death by the royals. And the revolutionaries were the ones who acted. Ironically enough.”
Looking back on his harsh life, there were no innocents.

Trying to label any group or bloodline as the evil ones felt meaningless.
That would only lead to hating the world itself.
At that moment, the man whose jaw was gripped let out a low laugh.

“You, with the devil’s eyes that have killed so many… You think you can live like a normal person? You can’t even trust people.”
A normal person?
Masera let go.

His darkened gaze stared into the void. Maybe from the lack of sleep, but everything suddenly felt unbearably tiring.
“Good job today... Where are you going? Can’t you see how admirable I am, staying up late to wait for you?”
He didn’t know why the noisy princess’s chatter echoed in his head, but he just wanted to go back and rest.

When Masera pulled out his pistol, the man grinned.
“See? We’re both broken people.”
Aiming his gun at the man hurling curses, Masera had only one thought.

He just wanted things to stay as they were.
That someone would wait for him, that there would be somewhere to return to—that was enough.
* * *

But as if to mock both their wishes, a massive scandal broke out early the next morning.
Articles featuring a photo of Cynthia embracing Carlos began flooding the press.