The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

Cynthia, having gone to the shopping district, bought all the essentials she needed, then went to a café with Dalia and had a winter strawberry parfait. They also ate street waffles, donuts, crepes, and buttered corn.
“We’re not done yet, Dalia. Don’t let me down.”
“You too, my lady. Remember, leaving food uneaten is a sin.”

With both hands full of snacks, Dalia turned out to be quite the big eater, and Cynthia felt like she had met a true kindred spirit when it came «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» to food.
‘…She didn’t seem to care at all, though.’
Cynthia glanced at the unusually large number of escorts following them and recalled Masera’s indifferent expression.

‘He really is a difficult one to read.’
She sighed as she gripped the handle of her parasol tightly.
Before leaving the residence earlier, she had invited Masera to come along once more, but he had refused flatly.

When she said it was actually a date proposal, he had made the most serious face in the world.
“Dalia, is the Brigadier always that shy and curt?”
“Yes.”

Dalia nodded, having already finished the corn before Cynthia realized it.
“He’s never had a girlfriend, has he?”
Though male leads in romance novels were almost always single and clueless about love, Cynthia asked anyway, her curiosity about his past getting the better of her.

All she knew was that Masera had been a war orphan.
“He never had the time.”
“Well, I guess he must’ve been busy, always going off to war.”

“That’s part of it. But mostly… he just doesn’t live with any sense of leisure.”
Dalia recalled the Masera of the past.
Dry, emotionless eyes. A worn-out, sunken atmosphere. Calm yet ruthless. And yet, he was unexpectedly affectionate.
He had never abandoned a subordinate on the battlefield, and after the war, he took in the retired soldiers society had rejected.

Dalia’s amber eyes turned toward Cynthia, who was smiling under her parasol.
‘Maybe… this bright and kind princess…’
Might just be the one to fill the Brigadier’s darkness with light.

* * *
While Cynthia and Dalia were out in the shopping district, a designer from Meriseiren came to the residence to apologize.
“I truly am sorry. A new staff member arrived that day, and in the middle of the shift, they disappeared—along with the dress…”

“Just make a new one.”
Masera, understanding the situation of being robbed, nodded.
The designer clenched his fists with determination.

“You saved my life when I was nearly killed by that bandit gang, Brigadier. I swear—I’ll create a masterpiece the likes of which the world will never see again.”
“As I said back then, it’s fine to just keep it simple.”
Masera pulled out a document from his inner pocket, signed it, and handed it over.

“This time, don’t bother with a budget cap.”
Though he wore his usual solemn expression, there was a strange sense of resolution behind it.
The designer’s eyes widened, holding back the urge to shout, What about that is simple?!

He vowed to craft a dress that would make the one the duchess wore look like rags in comparison.
After the designer departed with firm resolve, Eugene approached Masera, who was drinking tea alone in the garden.
“Uncle, I don’t like the white-haired lady.”

Eugene had been diligently executing his plan to drive Cynthia away.
But giving her frogs and bugs only made her thank him, making him feel guilty. And when he stuffed snowballs into her clothes, she followed him around all day singing, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”
Having failed all of his master plans, Eugene decided to just speak directly to Masera.

Cynthia wasn’t an ordinary opponent.
“Why not?”
Masera set down his teacup and asked.

Eugene sat across from him, a serious look on his face.
“She’s a white-haired villain. Don’t marry her. I’ll marry her instead and suffer in your place.”
Masera matched Eugene’s serious tone with one of his own and shook his head.

“I have no choice but to marry her. I proposed first.”
“You said you loved her first?”
Eugene’s eyes went wide in shock. He had assumed Cynthia, the bad princess from the bad country, had bullied Masera into marrying her.

In truth, Eugene harbored a deep fear of being abandoned after the marriage. He was afraid that the evil princess who had taken over the house would eventually say, “Get rid of that little brat.”
That fear had been fed by the royal-hating staff, officers, and his tutor.
“Does she kiss you and torment you too?”

Masera’s body twitched slightly as he lifted his teacup at Eugene’s question.
“Are you really not coming with us? It’s actually a date proposal…”
He recalled Cynthia’s blushing face and childlike smile.

There had been many women who tried to court him before, but this felt… different.
He had decided to define the unfamiliar feeling he’d had since first meeting her as “discomfort.”
Seeing Masera’s expression, Eugene nodded to himself with conviction.

“Phew, such a villain. But I can’t beat her yet. I’ll make her cry when I’m grown up.”
“I already made her cry.”
Eugene, in the middle of grabbing a cookie, looked up, shocked again.

“So she’s getting revenge for that by being mean to me?”
“No, you little rascal.”
Suddenly, Cynthia’s voice interrupted.

Eugene jumped and hid behind Masera.
Masera crossed his legs and tilted his teacup calmly.
“So, did you spend all the money freely?”

At his sarcastic tone, Cynthia lifted her chin triumphantly.
“Of course.”
She proudly held out a receipt listing everything she bought.

Rather than clothes, shoes, or jewelry as he expected…
There were fish tank decorations, yarn for sweaters, a plush puppy, and other pointless items. There was even a hammer and a saw—for what purpose?
Not that she had tried to be frugal either.

“Why’d you buy decorations for a fish tank? You don’t even have any fish.”
“To decorate a house for a frog in hibernation.”
At her answer, Eugene’s eyes briefly lit up with curiosity before he quickly pouted and pretended otherwise.

Masera pointed to the yarn section of the receipt with an expression of disbelief.
“Are you planning to knit a sweater? Just to be clear, I don’t want one.”
He imagined Cynthia trying to make him wear some absurd-looking sweater.

“The cat in the garden gave birth, remember? I’m going to knit sweaters for the kittens for the cold weather.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Still, buying a hammer and a saw seems suspicious.”
“I’m going to build a warm little house for the cat family.”

Just as Masera was thinking he’d probably end up building it himself, Cynthia grabbed one of the gift boxes the staff was carrying and handed it to him.
It was a bribe she had bought to distribute among the officers.
“These are macarons from a famous dessert shop. I had to wait in line forever. I also bought some ingredients to cook dinner for the officers later.”

Masera looked silently at Cynthia.
She seemed to be trying, in her own way. But would it make a difference?
“Eugene, you try one too. Then help me decorate the frog house later, okay?”

Cynthia handed Eugene a macaron with a gentle smile.
Eugene instinctively reached out—but then flinched and quickly pulled back.
“Don’t get close to white-haired people, Eugene. People will hate you too. The Esat people spread plagues in the past—they’re monsters.”

Hayden, his tutor’s voice, echoed in his mind.
The pictures of white-haired monsters that ate people, shown to him in books, had been more than enough to plant fear.
If they find out my mother had white hair too, they’ll hate me as well…

Eugene’s mother had also been an Esat.
So despite avoiding Cynthia out of fear and shame, Eugene couldn’t help but gravitate toward her. Because when he saw her, he was reminded of his late mother.
In the end, confused and pale, Eugene ran away.

“Eugene, hey! You’ve grown a lot, huh?”
While Eugene was walking sullenly through the garden, a silver-haired officer greeted him warmly.
He was an Esat officer who had taken refuge in the federation before the empire’s invasion destroyed their homeland.

The federation, which included the Lutemia Republic, had accepted many war refugees—including the Esat.
Hayden, Eugene’s tutor, was also one of those who had fled here, but he held deep hatred toward Esats.
“Don’t act friendly with me! You white-haired monster!”

Eugene shouted, fists clenched tight.
Seeing the Esat officer’s embarrassed expression, Eugene’s green eyes trembled uneasily.
He already felt guilty about his behavior—but he didn’t want to be cast out.

“…Monster?”
And Cynthia, who had followed after Eugene with concern for his pale face, happened to witness the entire scene.