The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
“My goodness.”
I had fled back to my room, my face as red as a strawberry.

A handsome man in uniform had just laid his head on my lap and said, “I like spring.” How was I supposed to stay calm?
“…I said I liked it too.”
Spring… or maybe the man who felt like spring. Whatever it was, I liked it.

With my back pressed against the door, I panted. My heart was pounding, yelling at me, ‘Hey! That was a confession!’
If I were a conniving human like Helene or Count Queensguard, I would have smirked and whispered, “Heh, just as planned.” But I was an ordinary person. The kind who would get swept up by a bit of flirting, giggle foolishly, get caught in a lie, and be cast out.
'What do I do? Should I launch the escape heroine plan before my feelings get any deeper?'

But maybe I was just getting ahead of myself. So I decided to delay that {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} for now. More than anything—it was freezing in this bitter cold season.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Just then, a series of lively, expectant knocks rang out.

I opened the door with some tension, and standing there with flushed cheeks were my stylist maid and the ever-capable Dalia.
“Tonight’s the conjugal night, isn’t it?”
“The Brigadier General has no choice but to come, right? It’s a ‘promise’.”

They spoke with determined expressions.
No one was unaware of the subtle awkwardness lingering between us since that incident. It was obvious they intended tonight to be the turning point in our relationship.
Girls! No matter how much effort you put in, nothing’s going to happen between us!

“Mm. I appreciate the thought, but I’d prefer to spend tonight quietly, as usual.”
“Yes, we prepared it just like usual.”
The stylist maid pulled out a leopard-print pajama set, origins unknown.
“It looks like the outfit of a tribal chief with the spirit of a tiger. It’s a bit… overwhelming.”

“You once said you wanted something that looked strong… I worked really hard to get this…”
“No matter how pitifully you look at me, I’m not wearing that. Also, it’s still broad daylight?”
“We need to prepare the operation in advance.”

Then Dalia revealed a daring dress with a dramatic flourish.
“So that you may arrive at the bedroom even earlier than usual—”
Eek! How embarrassing!

I shivered at the sight of the cruelly cold-looking outfit.
“Then… at least wear this for dinner. I made it myself for you, Princess.”
After rejecting countless options, the deflated stylist maid held out a different dress.

Weak to sincerity, I looked at the dress with a deeply moved expression.
“You made it yourself? It’s beautiful. I’m really touched… Thank you.”
This time it was a lovely crinoline gown—not too obvious or suggestive.

Apparently, the conjugal night was a major occasion. The staff had decorated both the dinner setting and the bedroom elegantly for our private evening.
But up until now, I had just dug into the food, refusing makeup or dressing up, treating it like a regular meal. I guess that had bothered them.
“Then make me pretty.”

It’s absolutely not because I want to look good for Masera.
As I sat in front of the mirror of my own accord, the stylist maid approached with a deeply satisfied smile.
“You might not get any sleep tonight, you know? Teehee.”

She looked too delighted for me to argue that nothing of the sort was going to happen.
* * *
Before I knew it, evening had arrived.

Masera and I sat down for dinner.
Had our time alone ever felt this uncomfortable? Wrapped in awkward silence, I simply focused on eating.
For someone who talks even with people I’m fighting with, to be this quiet… not even the delicious food could get through to me tonight.

Across the table, Masera looked at me and asked calmly,
“Do you have any plans for tonight?”
Yes. You and I are supposed to have our conjugal night.

Maybe he thought I was going to a party or something. I gave a stiff smile and shook my head.
“No.”
“That’s good.”

…What’s good about it? Masera slowly continued as he cut into his meat.
“There will be a total lunar eclipse tonight.”
“I saw it in the paper. They say it only happens once every two hundred years, right?”

What kind of man doesn’t know it’s conjugal night but remembers the date of the eclipse?
He spoke with a seemingly indifferent but gentle expression.
“I thought it would be nice to watch it together from a place with a good view.”

“Where? The rooftop? A watchtower? Mountain peak?”
“The bedroom.”
Masera gave his simple reply while swirling his wine glass, and added:

“Tonight is conjugal night, after all.”
So you did remember. That sly man.
My face flushed, and I chugged my water to cool down.

Still looking calm, he added,
“I thought you might have forgotten.”
“Didn’t my fancy look give it away?”

“I’ve already seen it. And I know.”
His eyes crinkled into a soft smile.
“That you look beautiful.”

For a moment, I felt like my breath stopped, and I dropped my fork.
* * *
Night had fallen.

Thankfully, I wasn’t wearing the absurd tribal pajamas. I had chosen a warm quilted set instead—perfect for watching the moon from the terrace.
'He wants to look at the moon together? Isn’t that like a ‘want to come in for some ramen?’ kind of line?'
Also, seriously, could we stop scattering flower petals on the bed?

Even though nothing special had happened on conjugal nights before, now I couldn’t stop noticing things.
As I picked up the scattered rose petals on the bed and tried to hide them, I thought:
'Beautiful? He said beautiful? How could he say that to me?'

Was he trying to induce arrhythmia? That shocking statement had been echoing in my head since dinner.
Then does that mean his “I like spring” was a real confession too?
“I arrived right on time.”

“Beauti—uh… huh?”
Masera stood there in uniform, likely having come straight after finishing his duties.
Embarrassed, I sipped at the weak cocoa Dalia had made and asked,

“Brigadier General, have you ever seen a total lunar eclipse before?”
“I couldn’t have. It happened two hundred years ago.”
“Ah-ha.”

Mug in hand, I stepped out onto the terrace and pointed to the sky.
“The moon looks huge, and there are so many stars. Look, do you see the cute little Baby Bear constellation? It sticks with the Mama Bear all year round.”
“You mean the Big Dipper? You know your constellations well.”

He seemed to have a deep interest in astronomy.
Then maybe he liked myths and legends, ghost stories too? A man who shared my interests—how perfect.
I unwittingly smiled slyly, then quickly straightened my expression.

'Don’t get greedy.'
As the cocoa cooled, the lunar eclipse began.
True to its name—‘the night when the moon mimics the sun’—the round moon hid behind a dark veil, then slowly emerged, tinged in red.

It looked just like a curtain call after a grand performance.
“Wow…”
I was mesmerized, staring at the moon bathed in red.

Beside me, Masera looked up and said,
“I heard your name is a nickname for the moon goddess.”
“You even know that?”

Still looking at the moon, I asked,
“What does your name mean, Brigadier General?”
“It means a slowly flowing fate.”

In the distance, the red moon was reflected in the frozen river. On the surface it looked still, but underneath the ice, the current would be flowing constantly.
“They say people live up to the meaning of their names.”
I murmured without realizing, and Masera looked down at me.

“No matter what the name means, no matter the fate one lives… To me, you’re still the same person.”
“What kind of person am I to you, Brigadier General?”
At my cautious question, his lips curled faintly.

“At first, a chatterbox so talkative it was exhausting.”
Hey now. I was about to feel a little hurt, when he suddenly took my hand.
The gentle sensation of his fingers lacing through mine made my heart stumble.

“And then, I realized I didn’t know I liked that kind of thing.”
Then, in a low, breath-tinged voice, he whispered by my ear:
“Now, you are… irreplaceable.”

My mind overloaded. I could only look up at him in a daze.
'Irreplaceable…'
In the end, I couldn’t resist. I was pulled toward his touch.

If only the world would close its eyes for a little while.
It felt like the moon had stolen the light of the sun—both joyous and terrifying.
As his eyes drew closer than the moon itself, my chest swelled with emotion and fear.

Then, with a respectful bow, his lips brushed the back of my hand. Like a knight swearing to protect his princess for life.
“I no longer wish to be a husband who pretends to be kind. I want to be real.”