The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
Masera frowned down at Cynthia, who had fainted once again.
“What an infuriating woman.”

He stood up, threw a blanket over her, and left the room.
* * *
After the engagement ceremony, it took me a full two days to regain consciousness.

The dream from my past life had been so vivid, the echo of the sirens and the air raid announcement still seemed to hum in my ears.
But this isn’t a war zone anymore. This life has a relatively low difficulty level!
I opened my eyes with determination.

“Eek!”
With a startled gasp, Eugene—who had been peering at me—scurried off like a cat that had knocked over a flowerpot.
I blinked up at the ceiling.

“You’ve awakened? I should have been more mindful and protected you, knowing how delicate you are. As someone tasked with caring for you, I’m ashamed. I’m very sorry.”
Dalia, who must have nursed me the whole time, apologized as she placed a cold towel on my forehead.
I gave her a warm smile.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m not that fragile. I might’ve looked like one of those fainting goats that collapses at loud noises, but still.”
“There’s such a species as fainting goats?”
“Yep. They say wolves used to hunt them to give the rest of the flock time to escape.”

Through the slightly open door, I caught Eugene peeking in again.
He looked utterly fascinated by my story—but the moment we made eye contact, he vanished like a shot.
Dalia spoke up.
“A report has likely been sent to the colonel that you’ve regained consciousness. He’ll be here soon.”

“As if. He’s obviously the type who prioritizes work over family. A textbook case of a workaholic father figure…”
Creaaak—
The door swung open, and the tall man who stepped in silenced me on the spot.

Masera, dressed in military fatigues, as if he had just come from training.
He came this fast? I wanted to sneak in a little gossip—talk about summoning the tiger by speaking ill of it.
Masera walked over and looked down at me, then gave a curt nod with his usual blank expression.

“You’ve woken up. That’s enough.”
“Your uniform suits you well. I was worried—”
“No.”

He cut me off firmly and turned away before I could even get a sentence out.
That man really has no warmth…
“The colonel must have been worried. He’s just not good at expressing it…”

Dalia hurried to smooth things over.
Anyone could see he just stopped by to make a show of it.
From what I remember, the original male lead only discovered the truth about the fake bride after she collapsed on the ground, completely exposed.

That was the reason he had desperately pretended not to know her lies.
How do I draw out passionate love from such a cold man? Thinking about how long the road ahead was made me feel unbearably hungry.
“Dalia, I’m starving.”

“Understandable. I’ll bring you porridge.”
“I want a grand feast.”
“But that might upset your stomach on an empty belly…”

“Then bring me an upsetting grand feast that includes porridge…”
I gave her the most pitiful look I could muster, but Dalia remained stone-cold.
In the end, I had to eat a bland, tasteless bowl of rice gruel.

* * *
On his way back to the training ground, Masera recalled what had happened that day.
“The air raid siren hasn’t been cleared yet.”

“Don’t leave me alone, please.”
Cynthia had lived in a rural village at the edge of the country, hiding from the revolutionary forces. The place had been largely unaffected by the war.
She probably had never even heard an air raid siren in real life.

She only ever saw the war in newspapers—so why does she act like she lived through it?
“Colonel, are most of the people working here former soldiers?”
“Why do you ask?”

“I want to get along with everyone. I imagine they might have trauma from the war…”
“There’s no need for you to bother.”
“Pardon?”

“You lived comfortably, knowing nothing of war. How could you possibly understand?”
She had acted like it didn’t bother her, but bitterness had tinged her voice. As if she were hiding a deep wound.
So which version of her is real?

Masera ran his hand irritably through his platinum blond hair.
Just then, a small hand tugged at his sleeve.
“Uncle.”

It was Eugene.
He looked up at Masera with uneasy eyes.
“What is it?”

“If you do something wrong to a noble, do you get beaten?”
“No. Who told you that?”
“The maid named Roje said so.”

Roje was one of the maids who had come from Count Queensguard’s household with Cynthia.
Masera had already been suspicious—especially after what had happened during the engagement. He knew the fox-like count’s intentions were obvious, but he’d decided to watch a little longer.
“Did you do something wrong to someone?”

Eugene fidgeted with his tiny fingers, hesitating before finally confessing.
“I gave Sister Cynthia a frog that was hibernating. I wanted to surprise her. But she didn’t get scared at all… she said thank you and that she’d take good care of it. She said frogs need to sleep during winter, so we should meet it again in spring.”
Masera recalled the glass tank sitting by her window.

Decorated with pinecones and fallen leaves, it even had a weird nameplate that read Froggy’s Bedroom.
So that’s what that was. A frog house.
“Even after hearing that, I don’t see why you’d deserve to be punished. Did someone hit you?”

Masera’s gaze sharpened. Eugene had looked scared from the start.
“Well, after dinner last night, when it was time to light the lamps…”
Eugene hesitated, clearly finding it difficult to talk about the disturbing thing he had seen.

“The maid who came with Sister Cynthia… she hit Maery and Ginny. Said they didn’t scrub the tub properly. She said Sister Cynthia told her to do it.”
Maery and Ginny were still just apprentice maids—barely more than children.
Masera’s eyes narrowed.

* * *
Thanks to Dalia’s ruthless food restrictions, I was starving. So much that I couldn’t sleep.
“War orphans often get sick from eating rich food too suddenly on an empty stomach. I’ve experienced it myself.”

Dalia said this with a wistful look as she handed me another bowl of bland gruel.
Because of that, I hadn’t been able to push harder… but by now, I figured I had long passed the “empty stomach” phase.
So I quietly, secretly, snuck out of my room. Just a quick stop in the kitchen for a little bite.

“Hm? The kitchen staff should’ve gone home hours ago…”
Seeing light spilling from the kitchen, I widened my eyes.
Just as I was carefully approaching, I heard someone scolding harshly from inside.

Oh no, must be a grumpy chef. Staying this late just to nag someone?
“You dare disturb Lady Cynthia’s peace of mind?!”
“But… that would mess up the food rations…”

Smack!
That was definitely the sound of a slap. So this wasn’t just nagging.
“Why are they disturbing my peace of mind?”

I stepped into the kitchen without hesitation.
Roje stood with a switch in her hand, and a group of young apprentice maids looked like they were about to cry.
“L-Lady Cynthia. I—I’m so sorry…”

The kids looked barely into their teens. As soon as they saw me, they began to beg.
“Roje, what the hell is this?”
When I’d worked as a maid, I’d seen this kind of violence all the time—disguised as training.

It was usually something only the master could authorize. No one had the right to discipline others without the master’s permission.
“I never told you to use violence [N O V E L I G H T] on the staff.”
“No, my lady. Of course not.”

Roje bowed deeply, pretending to be obedient.
“You’re far too generous and kind. And you’re not officially the mistress yet, so you don’t have the authority. If you were to lose favor with the colonel before the wedding, that would be… unfortunate.”
Her tone implied I’d told her to do it behind the scenes and ordered her to act like it was her idea.

“You did this on purpose.”
Trying to paint me as the villain inside the residence.
That way, if I were ever murdered, no one would bother investigating.

I had already been thinking of how to get rid of the spies who knew my weakness.
Roje lowered her switch and asked,
“My lady, shall I stop the punishment now?”

“Why do you keep talking like I gave the order?”
“Oh, right. My apologies.”
Roje gave a faint, sly smile—right as a chill ran down my spine.

I turned around.
Masera stood there with a cold, expressionless face.