The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

Does he get jealous… even when he’s not in love?

While Cynthia was still deep in thought, Masera, now cloaked in a solemn tone, suddenly said:
“Major Rodriguez is with the Federal Army Headquarters.”
“Wow.”

So? It’s not like he’s a spy or something.
With the same serious tone and expression, he added,
“I’m from the Joint Command.”

“Wooow.”
She threw in a bit more enthusiasm, just in case he got sulky again.
Masera stared at her blank face for a long moment, then let out a sigh. His eyes said, I give up on trying to explain anything to you.

“Just… do as you like.”
“Hey! Why do you sound like you’re giving up on me?”
In truth, she had a good idea of what he meant.

Three victorious nations from the Federal Republic had formed the Joint Command, a group that stood politically at odds with the existing Federal Army Headquarters.
Brigadier Steve—who had crashed the banquet, picked fights, and then stormed off in a huff—was a senior staffer at the Federal HQ, while Masera was Chief of Staff at the Joint Command. Naturally, they didn’t get along.
Rodriguez, being Steve’s direct subordinate, was part of his faction. Masera was basically telling her not to associate with him.

But Cynthia? She was already a suspicious person. If she pretended to know too much now, it would only fuel their doubts.
True masters know when to play dumb.
“Oh my, could it be—are you jealous? I thought that word didn’t exist in your vocabulary, Brigadier.”

She gave him the sneer of a classic villainess. Not only did it rile him up, it gave her the satisfaction of poking fun at him.
But Masera just smiled coolly.
“Of course. I can’t let you steal Major Rodriguez from me.”
This man was no easy opponent.

Damn it. Is he really turning this into a love triangle over the pretty boy?
Masera added seriously,
“Don’t get too close to him. He’s mine.”

Wow. Childish much?
Leaving her with that utterly ridiculous warning, he walked off with dignified steps—though the tips of his ears had gone bright red.
“…Cute,” she muttered like a smug romantic heroine, lips curling upward.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed that he’d gotten the upper hand again.
Just then, Diego came running from a distance.
“Princess, I need your confirmation on the guest list for the invitations. We’re sending them out tomorrow…”

He was panting as if he’d been searching for her all over.
Diego, even you’re calling me “Princess” now, huh?
“Lieutenant, what’s my official title going to be after the wedding?”

Surely I won’t still be called “princess” even as a grandmother?
At her question, Diego adjusted his glasses and thought for a moment.
“Since you won’t hold a specific title, you’ll likely be addressed as madam, lady, or ma’am.”

Madam sounded a bit awkward, but lady and ma’am gave off a strong, commanding vibe. She liked that.
Still, she wanted something more… distinctive.
“Is there anything else? Something more dominating? Like, ruler-of-the-household kind of energy.”

Diego, ever the earnest assistant, responded with unexpected seriousness.
“You could enlist and earn a military rank, or enter politics and become a senator. That might carry more weight.”
It would be political suicide for a disgraced royal bloodline to run for office, unless you were out of your mind.

“Do you not like being called ‘Princess’?”
The ever-perceptive Diego asked gently.
“I’d rather be called by my name. It feels more like me.”

“Then I’ll address you as Miss Cynthia from now on.”
Diego offered a rare smile as he spoke.
Everyone in this household is so kind… except Masera.

* * *
Major Rodriguez arrived at the temporary officers’ quarters where Brigadier Steve was staying.
As his direct superior, Steve’s summons overrode even his day off.

“Did you deliver the documents?”
“I passed them to the adjutant without issue.”
Rodriguez stood tall in military posture, while Steve lounged arrogantly with one leg crossed over the other.

“Even on leave, isn’t it a soldier’s duty to appear before a superior in uniform?”
“I’ll correct myself, sir.”
Wearing civilian clothes, Rodriguez bowed his head deeply.

Steve shot him a look of thinly veiled contempt.
“The only reason you’re even treated like a proper soldier is because you risked your life for the Federal Army.”
He was one of many who openly discriminated against the Esat people.

Rodriguez’s wartime accomplishments were enough to warrant a colonel’s rank. But because the key promotions went through Steve, he’d been stuck at major.
It was an unjust treatment—but protesting such things in a rigid hierarchy like the military was nearly impossible.
“Major, have you seen the princess? The one who’s going to marry Brigadier Visente.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure yet, sir.”
He hadn’t gathered any details—didn’t know her name or even what she looked like.
Out of jealousy, the other officers often excluded him from any non-essential information.

“A lowborn girl who got a few medals and now thinks she can marry royalty—what a joke. Nothing more than a fake princess.”
Steve often summoned Rodriguez just to unload his venom and resentment.
The major had no influential background, no family ties—he was a convenient emotional punching bag.

“You were nobility once, weren’t you? What house were you from again?”
“It’s in the past, sir.”
“Right. A world where nobles are worth less than commoners, and orphaned war brats rise as heroes.”

Rodriguez clasped his hands and listened in silence. His eyes traced the patterns on the floor tiles.
A pitiful man who finds comfort in other people’s misfortune.
Steve was born into a wealthy noble family, yet acted like a spoiled child needing to validate himself constantly.

Rodriguez, whom Steve used to feel superior, had never actually thought of himself as unfortunate.
People liked to project their own interpretations onto him—pity or disdain—but he never paid them any mind.
And yet, Cynthia—the woman he met at the officers’ quarters—felt different from the rest.

She didn’t judge him based on appearances.
That, in itself, had left a deep impression.
Maybe, just maybe, she could be the first person with whom he could show his true self—not just polite smiles ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) and hollow pleasantries.

As Rodriguez silently counted the floor patterns and recalled her face, Steve’s sarcastic voice broke through his thoughts.
“You canceled your request to be reassigned to the autonomous territory. Guess that promotion went to your head, huh? Do you even appreciate the fact that I’ve been looking out for you?”
“I’m always grateful, sir.”

Rodriguez said exactly what Steve wanted to hear, just as he always did.
Steve frowned at his lukewarm reply.
Esats—always so gloomy and unreadable.

Scoffing to himself, Steve pulled out an invitation and tossed it at the major.
Rodriguez caught it mid-air without looking up.
“You’re going in my place. Bring a wedding gift too.”

Only then did Rodriguez lift his eyes to look at the invitation. A ripple passed through the stillness of his lake-like gaze.
Bride: Cynthia Queensguard of the Bariesa Royal Line
“Cynthia Queensguard…”

Steve watched Rodriguez’s expression closely as he muttered the name under his breath.
Steve had a talent for detecting emotional cracks in people—the same way he fed off their misery.
“What?”

“Nothing, sir.”
Rodriguez quickly buried the brief flicker of emotion and bowed his head.
So she’s Brigadier Visente’s princess…

He knew her kindness hadn’t carried romantic intent.
Still, a strange emptiness settled in his chest.
“You do know she’s universally hated, don’t you? Treated like a national traitor.”

Steve, ever the manipulator, said it with calculated malice after reading the shift in his subordinate’s face.
“They say even the officers at her residence despise her. She’s doomed to a loveless, miserable life.”
Rodriguez no longer stared at the floor. His downcast, gray-blue eyes now reflected Cynthia’s bright smile.

Steve, watching the thoughtful silence in the major’s face, leaned in and said with a smug, oily grin:
“I guess even a princess who’s going to be used and thrown away can seem pitiful, huh?”