The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

After the Grand Duchess and the nobles had left, Cynthia remained alone, crunching on a gingerbread cookie as she looked around the garden.
“They didn’t really look like a married couple.”
“They’re just pretending to get along in front of others.”

‘What does a perfect couple even look like?’
Beneath a white parasol, a man and a woman were laughing brightly as they chatted.
And beyond them, a man and woman were walking affectionately through the garden, holding a child who looked about five years old.

Even though they weren’t doing anything particularly special, it was obvious they were in love.
Compared to that, she and Masera were bound only by mutual interests—lacking the most essential component of becoming a family: love.
Even though Cynthia was an optimistic person, she didn’t delude herself into thinking that Masera would naturally come to love her.

‘Everything takes effort.’
To think ‘the male and female leads always fall in love eventually’ was too optimistic for a situation like this.
‘More than anything, what he must have truly wanted as a commoner was noble blood—someone like the Grand Duchess Charlotte.’

[“It was because I was greedy, obsessed only with bloodline. I forced my son into a marriage he didn’t want…”]
At that moment, she heard the lament of an elderly woman.
Perhaps because it reminded her of her and Masera’s circumstances, Cynthia instinctively tuned in.

[“Madam Fritbache, don’t blame yourself too much.”]
Other women’s voices chimed in to console her.
[“Back then, I thought bloodline was more important than love. My son, who gave up everything for love and left, eventually died in the bombing that struck the principality.”]

Cynthia turned her head slightly to look at the woman.
She had black hair and teal eyes—clearly a high-ranking noble.
[“I only learned I had a grandson when I received the news of my son’s death. He’d be about eight now, if he’s still alive. Because of my greed, I even lost my grandson, whose face I never got to see. I’m living in a hell where no one loves me, and that’s the punishment I deserve.”]
Trembling, the woman finally covered her face with both hands and began to sob.

[“They say it’s not wealth or power, but love that saves a person from the loneliness they’re born with. I committed the sin of greed, and I’ll never be saved.”]
Listening to the woman’s story, Cynthia looked down at her reflection in the black tea.
She felt sorry for the woman who had lost her family and lived in loneliness.

‘But really, I’m the same—living in a place with no family and no one I love.’
And on top of that, she was broke and powerless—a beggar!
Just as she was sinking into that thought, her eyes landed on the Grand Duchess Charlotte, surrounded by people and smiling brightly, so unlike her own solitary state.

The Grand Duchess caught sight of someone and gave a soft smile before approaching.
That person was Masera.
Watching this, Cynthia suddenly recalled Carlos’s words: that Masera planned to divorce her after gaining what he wanted from the marriage and remarry the Grand Duchess.

The fact that it seemed plausible made her shoulders tremble slightly.
‘But isn’t that basically a tragedy arc? That’s not healing—it’s just suffering!’
She blinked at the light that had caught her eyes—and saw a tall man standing before her.

Masera, in his officer’s uniform.
“What are you doing, sulking here all alone?”
His tone was indifferent, but it was clear that he had approached her because he’d noticed she was alone.

‘I’m not alone. At least, not right now.’
She kept telling herself that once she got her alimony and left to start a new life, it would be fine—but in truth, that thought left a bitter taste. Because she’d be alone again.
‘Like the people in the officers’ quarters… Can’t I be included as family too?’

It was a shameless hope for a liar like her.
“Others tried speaking to me first, but I don’t speak Medeian. So I became a voluntary outcast.”
‘I’m sure they weren’t saying anything kind. I probably just smiled innocently, not understanding a thing.’

Masera let out a sigh at her words.
“You’d better start learning. It doesn’t look great to be left alone like that.”
Though he knew her situation, Masera still chose to speak coldly.

But Cynthia simply smiled sweetly.
“I’m not alone, am I? I’m here with my husband.”
At the word husband, Masera’s eyebrow twitched.

He didn’t like how Cynthia accepted everything he said or did with goodwill and kindness.
Just as he was about to step away—
“I was just watching that happy family over there. Isn’t it nice? The baby’s cute too.”

Where Cynthia pointed, a young couple was holding a child and admiring the winter berries.
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of having a family like that.”
‘It might be something natural for others… but for me, it was a dream that could never come true.’

Cynthia gave a bitter smile as she recalled her harsh past life.
Masera glanced between the laughing child in their father’s arms and Cynthia. There was confusion in his eyes.
“Wait… are you saying… you want a child?”

Seeing Cynthia’s red eyes widen, Masera added sternly:
“Our relationship is based on a contract. Having a child won’t change that.”
“I know.”

Cynthia dropped her gaze, fiddling with her cookie.
“But it’s not like I meant I wanted a happy family with you, Brigadier…”
“Then you’re saying you want that with another man? We may only be married on paper, but I absolutely won’t tolerate infidelity.”

Cynthia’s expression turned incredulous at his increasingly angry tone.
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? You sound like a grumpy kitten.”
“…Kitten?”

“Yeah. One of those spoiled, ungrateful orange tabbies that swat away snacks with their little paws.”
“Orange tabby, huh. You’ve got the nerve to talk, looking exactly like one of those wild rabbits who used to beat soldiers senseless in the snowfields.”
The charged air between them drew attention from nearby guests.

Noticing this, Masera shoved a cookie into Cynthia’s mouth. Then, with a faint smile, he whispered:
“Aren’t I giving you everything you want, Princess of Fortune? I told you not to expect anything more from me.”
“Mmph! Mmhh!”

Unfairly, the cookie in her mouth left her unable to protest.
At that moment, someone who had noticed the tension between them raised their voice.
“You two seem to be getting along so well!”

It was one of the nobles who had mocked them earlier, saying they were only pretending to be close.
“Everyone, your attention please! Today’s banquet is also in celebration of the couple’s visit to the royal palace, isn’t it? Let’s all raise our glasses in honor of their happy and beautiful marriage!”
At the noble’s words, everyone turned toward them, raising champagne flutes.

Cynthia hastily rinsed her mouth with black tea and lifted her glass.
The noble giving the toast brought up something that would clearly embarrass them.
“Brigadier, you must seal your love with a kiss for your lovely princess!”

“That’s right! You have to express your affection properly!”
If they refused coldly here, it would ruin the mood and spark suspicions.
Even the band began to play a romantic classical piece titled Dream of Love.

Before they knew it, they were expected to kiss in front of everyone.
Cynthia looked around in growing distress.
At the wedding, the veil had allowed her to fake it—but this time, she didn’t have that cover.

‘See, this is what you get for snapping at me.’
She shot a glare at Masera.
‘And you’re the one who started it with your nonsense.’

Masera glared right back.
“Hahaha, you’d better make it a good one!”
“So jealous! What a perfect couple!”

Teasing voices rang out toward the newlyweds.
Masera looked down at Cynthia’s lips—or more precisely, the cookie crumbs clinging to the corners of her mouth.
Then, seeing her pouty expression, something inexplicable stirred in him.

“You’d better fix that face.”
“What the—”
“Because I’m really going to do it.”

Before she could object, her words and breath were swallowed by his lips.
The arm wrapped around her waist felt tighter than usual.
‘He’s really doing it?’

Cynthia’s mind went completely blank in shock.
DENG—
A distant bell tolled the hour.

Their lips, hot and clinging, slowly parted.
As he licked {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} away the cookie crumbs from her lips, his eyes opened languidly—reminding her of the sun rising over the horizon.
The cheers and applause around them faded into the sound of waves, drifting farther and farther away beyond the sea.

‘My first kiss…’
Her second life, and her very first.