The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
Masera, lying on the sofa, opened his eyes when he sensed a presence.
The moment he saw Cynthia looking down at him, he urgently covered his eyes with a cushion.

“I didn’t wear that thing from earlier. I’m wearing my own.”
Only then, confirming that she was in normal pajamas, did Masera lower the cushion with relief.
“What are you trying to make me do now?”

Having granted all her requests up to this point, he asked in a wary tone.
‘Don’t tell me she’s going to ask me to wear the uniform again.’
While he brooded silently, Cynthia looked down at him with her hands behind her back and gave a faint smile.

“Isn’t it a bit unfair that you’re the only one sleeping on the sofa? Tonight, you should sleep in the bed.”
“What kind of man makes his wife sleep on the sofa?”
“And what kind of wife lets him?”

Cynthia smiled sweetly, not giving an inch, and Masera stared ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) at her.
'If she entered politics, she’d be a real powerhouse.' he thought, rising to a seated position.
“Can’t sleep?”

“Look at the ceiling painting above the bed. I only noticed it today.”
He followed where Cynthia pointed and quietly gazed at the ceiling mural.
It depicted a bizarre being covered in eyes and wings. Beneath it were the words: “Do not be afraid.”

“They say this room used to belong to a Medeian princess who married abroad. Think she ever had nightmares looking at that?”
Masera smoothed back his tousled hair and looked at her again.
“You mean the angel painting?”
“That thing that looks like a barnacle-covered bomber plane is an angel? That’s not the kind of angel I know… Shouldn’t they be cuter and more cuddly?”

“That’s the actual depiction from doctrine. So what is it you want?”
Cynthia cautiously sat down beside him.
“You know so much! I’m impressed! Then please tell me more about the angels in doctrine.”

Masera figured she was probably frightened by the painting.
“You’d be better off stopping the whining and just lying down.”
At his blunt response, Cynthia’s expression slowly turned gloomy.

Watching her, Masera added—
“…I’ll stay by your side until you fall asleep.”
“Oh, what a lovely idea.”

Cynthia’s face lit up again as she went over and lay on the bed.
Eventually, Masera dragged a chair over beside the bed and began telling her about the angels his mother used to describe when he was young.
“Ah, so all those eyes are to help them save more people? I see, it’s not scary at all.”

Masera looked down at Cynthia, lying in bed and chattering cheerfully.
'Feels like I’m a father now.'
He sighed and asked her:

“Do you happen to be afraid of sleeping alone?”
To which Cynthia replied, her eyes half-lidded:
“It’s not that I can’t sleep alone. It just feels more comforting when someone’s there. Anyway, thanks. I’ve always known how rare and lucky it is to have someone to stay by your side…”

Her bleary eyes gradually closed, and her breathing became even.
Watching her sleep, Masera gently touched her round forehead.
Then he noticed the necklace hanging around her neck and instinctively pulled his hand back.

That necklace was both the reason and the reminder of why he had to be cruel to her.
'“If it’s to save my daughter, I’ll do anything.”'
The image of a woman clutching her child, hair whipping in the frostbitten wind, was still vividly etched in his mind.

Even after all his years on the battlefield, he had never seen such a tragic, blindly determined expression.
As he vaguely recalled, the daughter had been very ill, and the woman had to travel far to find the child’s father.
Before being dragged away on charges of harboring royalty, Masera’s mother had hidden him inside a wardrobe and said—

“The Lord gave you the sight of an angel to see far and care for others. So please, don’t live a life consumed by vengeance.”
But it had not been easy for Masera, who barely reached adulthood in a ravaged world, to live up to her final words.
“When misfortune strikes, people look for someone to blame. But remember, none of this is anyone’s fault. Don’t get hung up on appearances—become someone who sees what’s inside.”

He looked quietly down at the sleeping Cynthia.
The emotions that floated to the surface whenever he saw her weren’t so easy to ignore.
But over time, they would eventually fade—just like the sadness of his childhood.

Pity, concern, whatever it was.
'Then all I have to do is eliminate everything that causes me to care.'
His gaze turned chilling, laced with killing intent.

Once certain she was fully asleep, Masera slipped out in silence. At the door, he addressed the men standing guard.
“…There was a tail around 8:25 PM. Search every lodging in the area and find them.”
He raised a finger to his temple.

“Make sure I never see them again. Ever.”
* * *
The next day, Cynthia sat alone at a palace banquet.

Masera was deep in conversation with Medeian politicians, high-ranking officers, and members of the royal family.
Following a prior conflict of interest, a major investor had withdrawn from the frontier development project, and now they needed to secure new ones.
Cynthia also tried to greet and make an impression on the nobles nearby. Fortunately, some of them spoke Lutemian.

“Though the sins of your predecessors led to ruin, seeing a princess trying to restore the lost glory of her past is inspiring. You’ve taught me something important.”
“Surviving as the last royal… you’re quite lucky.”
They weren’t exactly kind.

What they really meant was that marrying a war hero and putting in some effort was admirable, but that didn’t make her an equal.
Unlike the nobles of Lutemia who still held some respect for the Frost Queen, the prideful nobles of Medeia viewed the Bariesa royal line as nothing more than a joke.
'So, they don’t think well of me after all.'

Just then, a woman with luxurious black hair tied up and a splendid dress approached Cynthia and addressed her.
It was Archduchess Charlotte—the one who had sent a marriage proposal to Masera.
[“Do you not understand Medeian? I greeted you earlier, but you didn’t respond.”]

Lost in thought, Cynthia had missed the greeting. She turned to face the Archduchess.
'So this is a showdown with the political rival vying for the male lead?'
But such a fierce confrontation wasn’t likely to happen—her character, after all, supposedly didn’t understand Medeian.

Cynthia, who often ran combat simulations in her head before sleeping, found that a bit disappointing.
“I don’t speak Medeian.”
She replied in Lutemian.

Charlotte, who didn’t speak Lutemian, simply stared at Cynthia’s innocent face.
'Does she not even know I proposed to the colonel?'
After the war, military heroes had soared in global popularity, and the upper echelons scrambled to tie the knot with them.

Charlotte’s goal had been clear—to marry the most famous of them all, Masera.
Having already faced the prospect of marrying an old king with three divorces and thirty mistresses, her urgency was understandable.
'No way I’m living as some wrinkled king’s consort.'

And unlike the other officers with messy love lives, Masera was notoriously clean—almost obsessively so. That made him all the more appealing.
'So then why did he choose a ruined princess? Could the rumor about trying to restore the monarchy be true?'
Full of questions, Charlotte stared into Cynthia’s face.

Once they realized Cynthia didn’t understand Medeian, the people around her began mocking her outright.
[“She doesn’t even look like a real couple with Brigadier Visente.”]
[“They’re just pretending to get along. As if he could actually have feelings for her. The colonel suffered so much because of the war the royals caused.”]

[“She can’t even speak his language. How’s she going to keep up with him going forward?”]
The tone was sweet and polite—if you didn’t understand the words, it all sounded like harmless small talk.
[“Thank you for your kindness.”]

Cynthia even offered a clumsy thank-you in Medeian.
Charlotte, frowning slightly, turned toward the women chatting behind her.
[“Is this how you behave to royalty from another country? Where are your manners?”]

It was the sight of Cynthia’s innocent, unknowing face that made her suddenly seem pitiful.
'She doesn’t even realize she’s being mocked. There’s no point worrying about someone that clueless.'
Charlotte sighed, not knowing that Cynthia understood every word.

She had no idea what kind of thoughts the seemingly harmless woman might be hiding.
'Those women who ran their mouths just now… I’ve memorized every single face.'