The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

“Next time, I’ll kill you.”
After leaving that warning, Masera departed, and Carlos stood before the portrait of his mother hanging along the stairwell wall, staring at it for a long time.
Even then, Carlos didn’t ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) say it was Helene. Because he still had, however faint, a sense of familial loyalty.

“Oh, right. I told you to do whatever you want—kill him or spare him. She’s the Duchess, after all. You can’t throw Helene under the bus, can you? It’s enough if only you take the fall.”
Upon seeing Carlos’s bruised cheek and bleeding nose, the Count didn’t get angry—instead, he remarked that Masera had saved him the trouble of beating his son himself.
‘Was the Brigadier serious when he said killing me wouldn’t matter?’

Carlos rubbed his aching cheek as he swallowed his shame and humiliation.
His father was a man who would use any means necessary to get what he wanted.
And that included using his own children as tools.

“I was nothing more than a puppet dangling from a string…”
Like Cynthia, Carlos had finally realized that he, too, had only ever been his father’s marionette.
The Count would always side with whichever bloodline brought the most benefit—and would eliminate anyone who got in the way.

“Hah, so that’s why Helene orchestrated all this. To keep me in check.”
That cunning girl must’ve known their father’s intentions all along.
Carlos left the mansion and headed straight to the Prime Minister’s residence without a plan.

Valeria, out on horseback for a garden stroll, spotted him and frowned.
“Why did you come looking for me?”
She had already seen the article—that much was clear.

Carlos approached her.
“My lady. Did you send a marriage proposal to me because you wanted to become a princess?”
At his question, Valeria curled her lips into a wry smile and replied.
“What a predictable question. Does anyone marry for love?”

Carlos gently held the hand she used to grip the reins and smiled softly.
“You’ve already investigated my private life, haven’t you? You must know there are no other women. And when you saw me in the forest, I was telling Cynthia that I was going to marry you.”
Valeria silently gazed down at the injury on his cheek.

‘Where did he get beaten up like that?’
Carlos said in a solemn tone,
“I promise. I won’t cause you any trouble. No drinking, no gambling—none of it.”

Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him. He seemed like someone who had finished tying up every loose end.
‘So the sister was the one-sided one? Well, things like that happen often.’
One of her friends was recently agonizing over a sister-in-law who was excessively doting on her brother.

“What’s your point?”
At her question, Carlos pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
“I would like you to marry me.”

A prince’s proposal without even a single flower. Valeria let out a self-deprecating chuckle.
Still, marrying a handsome nobleman of matching status was considered quite fortunate.
She nodded, not knowing if it was resignation or compromise.

“Fine.”
It was bound to happen anyway.
Her father considered everything going on to be a minor inconvenience and was pushing her toward marriage with a prince no matter what.

If it wasn’t this man, she would’ve had to leave her homeland to find another prince.
As Carlos lifted his lips from her hand, he slowly raised his gaze.
There was only one way left to survive without shame.

Power.
With that alone, he could do whatever he wanted—and get what he wanted.
Just like his father.

* * *
As soon as I heard that Masera had returned, I headed straight to his office.
Misunderstandings must be cleared up immediately.

“You know all of this is a lie, right? I’ll explain everything!”
I barged in with determination—then stopped in disbelief.
“Gasp.”

Captain Carlton was sitting on Masera’s desk, holding his face in his hands.
Out-of-genre content…?
So this is how misunderstandings are born. I stared at the two of them in shock.

“Oh dear, you’ve caught us.”
Captain Carlton gave me a mysterious smile the moment he saw me.
“…It’s true that we’re close enough to speak informally in private.”

And then, completely unprompted, he added a random piece of trivia.
Who was this man, really?
Masera slapped his hand away with a frown.

“Caught what? Don’t smile like that. It’s gross.”
A cute duck-themed bandage was stuck to Masera’s cheek.
He must’ve gotten treated by the pediatrician doctor. He had no idea how adorable he now looked.

“Such hurtful words to a man who came to tenderly apply a bandage.”
Captain Carlton, armed with a first-aid kit, flashed me a wicked-smile fit for a scheming rival villainess and strolled out.
“Were you hurt?”

I cautiously approached Masera and asked.
“Yes.”
“How did it happen? Who did this to you?”

What kind of monster would dare harm a national treasure-tier face?
As I leaned closer to examine it, Masera tilted his head slightly and asked,
“And what if you find out?”

“I’m not strong enough to beat them up for you, but I can at least curse them out on your behalf.”
Because if it’s verbal combat—we’re in my domain!
But the moment I saw the scandal article sitting on his desk, all my confidence drained, and my shoulders drooped.

There’s no way I’d win in this verbal sparring match.
“It’s a long story…”
“No need to explain.”

Masera cut me off firmly.
So we were just a couple in a political marriage, nothing more—no reason to explain or listen?
“I’m currently being bombarded by slander and smear campaigns, you know.”

“I’m aware.”
Before, he would’ve said, “Doesn’t matter, right? Then that’s enough,” and that would be the end of it... but now I felt overwhelmed and just wanted someone to understand how unfairly I was being treated.
“You should stop sniffling and go back to your room.”

Was he telling me to scram?
“Otherwise, your cold—”
“Don’t act all serious when you’re wearing a bandage with a cute duck on it! So what if you’re cute!”

I exploded without thinking and stormed out of the room.
“Ahh, why did I do that?”
I regretted it in one second, but I didn’t have the courage to go back and give a calm explanation.

I hung my head and sighed.
“Guess I’ll just go get ready for the tea party… ugh.”
Of all times, why did the residence’s tea party have to be scheduled now?

It was meant to be a major announcement with the Medeian royals regarding Nox, and the invitations had already been sent—it couldn’t be canceled.
The tea party is in three days. I must make up with Masera before then.
I swore to myself.

* * *
“Huh?”
Masera blinked in confusion at Cynthia’s sudden outburst and dramatic exit.

Why was she angry? Did I say something wrong?
“No need to explain.” (= I already understand the situation. You don’t need to stress over it.)
“You should stop sniffling and go back to your room.” (= You’ll get sicker. Go rest.)

And what the hell did she mean by “cute duck”?
Masera turned toward the mirror on the wall and spotted the duck-pattern bandage on his cheek. He clenched his teeth.
“That damned doctor…”

He yanked open the drawer in frustration—and found the bread bag twist-tie ring Cynthia had given him.
He stared at the ring for a moment before putting it back.
Then he quietly turned his gaze to the photo in the newspaper—the one of the hug. More precisely, he was analyzing Cynthia’s expression.

What kind of face had she made when he hugged her?
Masera tried to recall all her past expressions. But because of their height difference, he’d only really seen the top of her head most of the time.
If Cynthia and Carlos were actually serious… if a day came when she told him she was leaving...

Masera slowly lowered his eyes as he peeled off the duck bandage.
“If I kill him… would she never speak to me again?”
* * *

“Tell me how to win a man’s heart.”
While selecting tea leaves for the upcoming tea party, I earnestly begged Diego for advice.
Diego, who had been sniffing a tea leaf, looked at me with a sorrowful expression.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love.”
“But you know what the Brigadier likes, right?”
His expression grew even more pitiful.

“Yes… somehow, that’s the only thing I’ve come to know…”
Anyway, Diego agreed to help me with the “Operation: Restore My Reputation and Clear Masera’s Misunderstanding.”
Even the soldiers assigned for security somehow got roped into the plan.

Diego asked,
“But how did we go from selecting tea leaves to waiting outside the Count of Queensguard’s capital residence?”
“Once I’m out, I have to take care of everything at once.”

As soon as I saw the Count exiting the mansion, I ran up to him and threw my arms around him.
“Dad!”
“Huh? What?”

“This is for a photo op. Smile nicely. Say cheese.”
I whispered quickly. The startled Count, hands raised in confusion, patted my back nervously while glancing around.
I gave Diego, who had the camera, a sharp look—Take the shot. Now.

“You’re clever.”
The Count seemed to realize my intention.
“What the hell is she—urk!”

I had no intention of hugging Edford, who was following behind, so I jumped on his back and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck in a chokehold—trying to look as affectionate as possible.
“Smile.”
“Gkk—can you let go?!”

“Smile like you’re happy.”
At my threat, Edford, caught in a headlock, managed a forced grin.
Click!

Thanks to that, we got ourselves a very wholesome-looking family photo.
One of the soldiers posted on the opposite rooftop gave us a big thumbs-up.