The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
Masera returned to his room after deciding the servants’ punishment.

Dalia approached him with a remorseful expression and bowed her head.
“I apologize. There was a rumor going around among the staff that the young lady was giving out corporal punishment, but I judged it to be nonsense and didn’t report it.”
“What was the basis for that judgment?”

Masera loosened his tie and looked back at her.
Dalia opened her mouth carefully.
“From what I observed up close, she doesn’t resolve issues emotionally.”

Saying she was a good person or had a kind heart would have sounded like sentimental nonsense.
After all, even heinous criminals are often described by their neighbors as “kind and polite.”
“She doesn’t make people apologize through violence or anger. Instead, she makes them realize their wrongdoing and apologize on their own. Those who can’t do that… she thoroughly excludes them.”

As she said this, Masera was reminded of something Eugene had said:
“I gave her a frog, and she didn’t even get mad—she said thank you. It made me feel weird all of a sudden… and I wanted to say I was sorry.”
Considering she had managed to win over both Dalia and Eugene in such a short time, she was clearly no ordinary person.

Masera turned his gaze to his adjutant, Diego, who nodded in agreement.
“Diego. What’s with the quill pen? This isn’t the Age of Discovery.”
“It was a gift.”

“From whom?”
“Miss Cynthia picked up a ‘phoenix feather of eternal life and health’ and said she made it for me. Of course, I don’t really believe that… but it’s kind of vintage, and I liked it...”
He suddenly felt the creeping anxiety that even his adjutant might get stolen away.

This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement where she got what she wanted and left. But now she was winning people over and taking over the residence. That wasn’t good.
Masera felt a flicker of irritation.

He suddenly remembered her shameless face as she claimed to have fallen for him at first sight, lying straight to her “family’s” faces with an innocent smile.

He repeated to himself, like a mantra:
There is no way I would ever like her. Not now. Not ever. For the rest of my life.
“Sir, the Duke of Recanosa and Miss Helene plan to skip the engagement ceremony and go straight to the wedding.”

Dalia pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Since her sister’s picked a date, it’s time to begin the actual preparations for your own wedding. Before the bitter cold sets in.”
“Why do you look so excited?”

Despite his disapproving glare, Dalia smiled quietly.
“Let’s start with the dress. Give the designers a week.”
“Yes, understood.”

* * *
News of Helene setting the wedding date sped up the plans for my own.
But there wasn’t much for me to do.

Dalia and Diego handled everything on their own. All I had to do was make choices.
A designer came to the residence with several dresses for me to try on.
Just as Masera was about to leave, the designer urgently stopped him.

“Brigadier, shouldn’t you at least see how the bride looks in the dresses? Say a few nice things?”
“Just go with the most expensive one.”
But everyone agreed with my argument that even if the price shows sincerity, the attitude must show sincerity too.

With a visibly annoyed face, he reluctantly took a seat.
As I stepped out in the first dress, I expected to see the classic media reaction: surprise + admiration + emotion all rolled into one. But Masera’s face was lukewarm at best.
“Looks good. Let’s go with the last one.”

“This is the first one.”
I tried on three more, but his responses didn’t change.
“They all look great on you, which makes it hard to choose. I’d recommend the last one you tried.”

The designer recommended the final dress.
It was probably the most expensive one. It did look the most luxurious and beautiful.
“Well, all those sparkles make it look the best to me too.”

Even Diego, the practical adjutant, agreed.
Since it all sounded reasonable, I said I liked it too. Masera snorted.
“So you were going to pick the most expensive one anyway. What a waste of time.”

“I think he meant you’d look beautiful no matter what, so it was a waste of time to worry.”
Loyal Dalia covered up her superior’s inflammatory remark.
Anyway, isn’t ‘beauty = price’? That man was just optimizing.

Thinking about it that way, it didn’t bother me much.
“Indeed, you have a fine eye. This dress was handcrafted using pearls and diamonds from the Mediterranean, each selected one by one. Wearing this dress is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…”
The designer, a seasoned businesswoman, had already grasped Masera’s impatient temperament and sped through the explanation.

“Thank you for matching such a pretty ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) dress for me, Brigadier. Where should we go for our honeymoon? There’s a place I’ve always wanted to…”
I approached him after the dress selection, eyes sparkling.
“We’re not going.”

His tone was firm. He really wasn’t planning to go.
“Why not? It’s once in a lifetime! It’s romantic! It’s a vacation!”
“There’s no real meaning in our relationship, so I see no need.”

“The tradition of the honeymoon is to explore dangerous and unfamiliar places together, to discover sides of each other previously unknown, and—”
“If you want to build bonds with me, enlist.”
“That’s called comradeship.”

God, he was like dried squid—zero romance. How could he be like this?
I pouted and glared at him.
“I’ve never even been abroad. I want to see the ocean. I need to see cute dolphins.”

“You’re just like Eugene when he throws a tantrum.”
“Well, I can throw adult tantrums. Even worse than kids.”
Masera said nothing, just walked away at a brisk pace.

I followed him, chattering like a honeymoon-parrot. But he seemed to be tuning me out completely.
“I will accompany you to your sister’s wedding.”
He tossed the words out like a favor and disappeared.

Left alone, I fumed and swore revenge.
Next time, I’ll go on a group trip with everyone in the residence—without him. While we’re partying on the tour bus, he can eat alone, clean the house, and suffer in solitude.
* * *

The day of Helene’s wedding arrived.
Meeting the Queensguard people was unpleasant, but the food was bound to be good.
The ceremony was held in the duke’s estate garden.

A wedding outdoors in this cold? Are they insane? I shivered.
“What a good day they picked. The weather’s as warm as spring.”
The Count of Queensguard made small talk, wearing light clothes.

He seemed in a good mood—probably still unaware of the servant incident.
Masera and I sat side by side at a table under a white parasol.
“Brigadier, this is maple syrup. It’s all the rage these days. Pairs well with pancakes.”

I poured syrup on a pancake and held it out to him.
“Say ‘ah~’. Let’s look friendly.”
He recoiled slightly with a grimace as I offered it with a fork.

“How long do I have to keep pretending?”
“Relationships take lifelong effort. Whether you like the person or not.”
He must’ve realized I wasn’t putting the fork down until he ate, so he gave in and took a bite.

Chewing thoughtfully, he said:
“Don’t really get the appeal. I don’t like new things.”
“Grandpa palate? Then dip it in rice syrup instead.”

“What’s that? Pancakes go with strawberry syrup.”
“So you’ve got a kid’s taste.”
It was really just a syrup debate, but from the guests’ perspective, we probably looked quite close.

I could feel eyes on us—curious, interested eyes. They felt different from before. Like I’d become someone worth whispering about.
Then, with applause and cheers, the bride entered.
My eyes widened when I saw Helene’s dress.

“…Huh?”
She was wearing my wedding dress. Smiling.