The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

While the marriage arrangements proceeded at lightning speed…
Edford, the second son of the Queensguard family, went into a frenzy when he heard about Cynthia’s engagement.
“Damn it!”

He was slow on the uptake—and not particularly bright.
“Father must’ve found out about our relationship. That’s why he’s trying to marry Cynthia off as the second wife of some rich old man.”
Edford had long harbored feelings for Cynthia.

He was convinced Cynthia liked him too—but couldn’t show it because of Carlos. A delusion entirely of his own making.
“Carlos, that crazy bastard. He’s pulling this pathetic trick because he’s scared I’ll take Cynthia from him!”
He stormed off to find Cynthia immediately.

“Cynthia.”
He was sure she’d be crying, forced into a marriage she didn’t want.
But to his surprise, Cynthia turned to him with a bright, cheerful smile.

“What’s the matter?”
Edford grabbed her hand and got straight to the point.
“Run away with me. Two days from now, just after sunset, meet me in front of the bell tower.”

He admired himself for being the kind of man willing to risk it all for love.
He fully expected Cynthia to be so moved she’d burst into ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) tears.
But instead, she blinked wide-eyed and asked,

“Why would I?”
That was not the response he had anticipated. Edford was thrown off.
“Father and Carlos are forcing us apart!”
Cynthia’s red eyes fluttered rapidly.

“Were we a pair that shouldn’t be separated?”
“You don’t really love Carlos—you love me. You just couldn’t show it because you were worried about what people would think. Poor Cynthia…”
“Ugh,” she let out a short groan and quickly shook her head.

“That’s not true.”
“There’s no need to hide it anymore! They’re sending you off to some old geezer!”
“Nope, I’m going to marry a dashing, wealthy officer.”

Cynthia said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Edford felt like someone had slapped him across the face.
But then he reminded himself that Cynthia was naive—like a child.
“You’ve been deceived. They say all that, but the truth is…”

Still smiling sweetly, Cynthia cut in.
“Let’s say I did run away with you. Sooner or later, we’d get caught—or we’d hit a wall. You’d have a place to go back to, but I wouldn’t. I’d be the one punished for seducing a noble and fleeing. Probably beaten, maybe worse.”
She pointed directly at him as she continued.

“In the end, you wouldn’t lose a thing.”
Was this really the same Cynthia he knew? Her gentle tone hadn’t changed—but this was the first time she’d spoken so plainly.
As Edford stood there stunned, Cynthia added gently,

“Maybe you’re just drunk on your own nobility. The idea of throwing it all away for love sounds heroic to you. You might want to think that through again.”
Wounded pride and all, Edford did what many men like him do when they have no comeback—he got angry and lashed out.
“So you were just pretending to be innocent this whole time? Using me, taking everything you could get, and now you show your true colors? Then why the hell did you smile at me?!”

Cynthia met his accusation with the exact same smile he was talking about.
“Did I ask you to do any of that? You’re the one who’s naive.”
Edford was deeply shaken.

He ran off to tell the rest of the family about Cynthia’s “vile true nature,” but no one believed him.
All he got were pitying looks, as if to say, “You’re really obsessed with a maid, huh… making up lies like this?”
“Edford. Don’t do anything stupid. If this marriage falls apart, I’ll kill you first.”

Instead, he got threatened—by the Count himself.
* * *
On the day I was to leave for the capital to be married, Helene, the Count’s daughter, came to visit my room.

With luscious chestnut hair and clear blue eyes, she was beautiful and smiled graciously.
“Cynthia, would you spare me a moment to say goodbye? I’m sad to see someone like a little sister going so far away.”
Her graceful demeanor and refined speech came from years of training and pride in her royal lineage.

She gently took my hand in hers.
“Cynthia. Being forced into marriage because of Father’s greed—it’s heartbreaking. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Hardship? It’s more like a stroke of luck for me.”

“Edford said the two of you were in a relationship, you know?”
Edford was so far from my type it wasn’t even funny. And too thickheaded to take a hint even when I rejected him nicely.
Please, for the love of all that’s good, don’t get in the way of my soft, fluffy romance plot.

I shook my head firmly.
“Even if the sky fell down, that would never happen.”
She still looked concerned as she faced me.

“I looked into your fiancé. Count Visente is a man in his seventies—and apparently he’s in financial trouble. I heard he even borrowed a large sum using his title as collateral. And his temper? Absolutely vicious.”
“That’s quite different from what the Count told me.”
“Well, we are far from the capital. News travels slow.”

She gave me a sympathetic look.
“I just wish you could marry someone wonderful like I am.”
A bit of humblebragging mixed into the concern. How transparent.

I gave her a bright smile.
“Don’t worry. I believe in my own choices.”
Someone as shrewd as the Count wouldn’t gamble on a fraud marriage if it was something even his daughter could sniff out.

“So naive… You really don’t understand how the world works.”
Helene smiled kindly again.
I mirrored her with the same gentle smile.

Refusing the marriage would get me killed. Running away would get me killed. So all that was left… was to bet on fate.
“You’ll be going to the ducal residence in the capital soon too, right? Could you write me a formal invitation in your name, in advance?”
“What for? Besides, you can’t read the formal language used in invitations.”

“It’s just in case I ever need help sneaking in to see you.”
“All right. I’ll write it in the everyday dialect for you.”
Getting a sample of Helene’s handwriting might come in handy someday.

In truth, I could read and write formal language.
Pretending to be dumb and innocent helped a lot.
People always let their guard down around someone they think is harmless—they show their weaknesses and secrets.

She stared at me, then smiled and handed over the invitation she had written.
Knock knock—
A servant entered, announcing that soldiers from Colonel Visente had arrived.

* * *
Edford loitered around the luxurious vehicles, sizing up the uniformed soldiers.
“So the old geezer who’s marrying Cynthia didn’t show, huh.”

He twisted his lips into a sneer.
“I can’t believe Cynthia agreed to this so eagerly. What’ll she do when she finds out the truth, I wonder?”
He imagined Cynthia running to him, sobbing, begging him to take her back.

Then he approached a young man in a long coat.
His rank wasn’t visible, but since he stood at the front, he was probably one of Colonel Visente’s direct subordinates.
“The colonel didn’t come himself?”

The young man looked down at him silently. He was tall and well-built.
Is this guy really a soldier? Looks more like a fancy gigolo.
The pretty man brushed his platinum hair back and smiled faintly.

“Which colonel?”
“The highest-ranking one on staff, I mean…”
“Oh, the chief of staff.”

The man replied with total indifference.
Edford felt a strange sense of intimidation and was about to respond when a middle-aged officer stepped out of the car.
That old guy must be Cynthia’s fiancé.

He didn’t look seventy, but the age gap had to be over thirty years.
Edford felt a mix of defeat and victory as he turned his gaze back to the handsome man.
“Why are you talking so casually? I’m about to become your superior’s brother-in-law.”

He puffed up with petty pride.
With the war freshly ended, military officials held immense influence and social standing.
This guy’s probably just a rookie officer, or maybe a sergeant at best.

Edford looked smug as he stared him down.
“I’m sure it’s a second marriage, so you’ll be expected to treat the in-laws with proper respect.”
“It’s not a second marriage.”

The man took off his gloves and shook his head.
His luxury watch and polished cufflinks screamed wealth.
That’s when it hit Edford that something wasn’t adding up.

“Sir.”
The same middle-aged man snapped to attention and saluted stiffly in their direction.
Edford’s shoulders lifted with pride as he assumed the salute was for him.

“See that? Even a military officer greets me with courtesy—how dare you—”
But the officer’s gaze wasn’t directed at him.
It was fixed firmly on someone else.

“Colonel Rave of the Northern Command reporting. There was a delay due to heavy snowfall. Please forgive the inconvenience, Colonel Masera del Visente.”
Behind the platinum-haired man now revealed as Colonel Visente, the snow had been cleared in an immaculate path—up to the waist in height, and stretching beyond where the eye could see.