The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

After dinner, Dalia and the maids rushed in, their arms full of various items.
“Whew, it’s a good thing we stocked the room with furniture ahead of time.”
“We’ve brought rose petal bath bombs, premium oils, and rose-scented perfume.”

“Which nightgown would you like to wear? One of the ones gifted by the Grand Madam and the princesses?”
Their flurry of excitement made my head spin. I blinked in confusion at them all.
“Um, I already took a bath, though.”

Undeterred, the maids sat me in front of the vanity and began brushing and styling my hair.
“Then you can use the bath bombs next time. Let us at least help you get ready.”
“A silk slip would be best for tonight, right?”

I let myself be tugged this way and that, asking them,
“Why? Why are you suddenly dressing me up before bed?”
Dalia, lighting a sweet-smelling candle, looked at me with a solemn expression.

“Because tonight is your conjugal night.”
“Gasp.”
…How did it end up like this?

Even if I said it was just a meeting, the maids’ faces—including Dalia’s—were so full of enthusiasm that I doubted I’d be believed.
“A lighter shade on the lips would be better!”
“No need for hair accessories.”

“No, no—if you tie it with a ribbon and then let it down, it creates such a romantic mood…”
Why wasn’t anyone asking me?
After a whirlwind of activity, they left me in a half-up braid and a silk slip, disappearing from the room.
On the table, they’d lovingly set desserts, wine, and candles for ambiance.

“….”
I stood up abruptly, intending to change. To anyone, I looked like someone expecting a passionate wedding night.
As I hastily tugged down the slip strap from my shoulder, a knock came—followed by the door unlocking with a click.

“Ah.”
“Uh.”
I locked eyes with Masera, who had arrived in uniform and coat.

His expression froze instantly. Then, slowly, he turned his back to me.
“Such… halfway undressed attire is quite disorienting.”
He remained facing away and spoke in an unusually serious tone.

“And I didn’t come in uniform with that intention, either.”
He even added a clarification—likely recalling how I once mentioned I liked uniforms.
“Well, Dalia had a huge misunderstanding… Alright, I’m dressed now.”

I quickly threw on a coat and answered.
“……”
Masera approached and lowered his gaze slowly.

“There’s something you mustn’t forget.”
“What? That this is a marriage of convenience for mutual gain?”
I asked cheerfully, but his face remained somber.

“No.”
He shook his head slowly, and as he did, he fastened a button I hadn’t noticed was undone.
“No matter what else… we are husband and wife. Man and woman.”

His voice was low, sinking like mist. My shoulders tensed, and my cheeks felt warm—not from embarrassment, but from awkwardness.
I couldn’t tell what he meant by saying that. I didn’t know how to respond.
“So… shall we start working on the guest list?”

Trying to steer things back to the original purpose, I quickly sat on the sofa.
Masera nodded and took a seat across from me.
As if pushing aside the strange current that had passed between us, we began discussing whom to invite.

“With the upcoming World Expo, many foreigners will arrive…”
So far, Masera had shown himself to be someone who respected others’ opinions—especially since he’d considered mine despite us being sworn enemies.
“Then let’s stop here for now and revise later.”

As we wrapped up, Masera glanced around the room decorated with antique furniture and ornaments.
“You furnished all of this? Just a while ago, it was completely empty.”
“Yes, do you like it?”

“It’s nice. I was worried it’d be some eccentric theme.”
He looked genuinely relieved. What exactly had he been imagining?
I’m glad I discussed the décor with Dalia and Diego. It paid off.

“Did you learn piano?”
He gestured at the piano in the corner with a nod.
“Yes. I’m not very good, though.”

“Would you play a piece?”
It was an unexpected request. So he did have a sensitive side?
I stood confidently and walked over to the piano.

Placing my fingers on the keys, I looked back at him.
“Do you remember the piece that played at our wedding?”
Masera nodded silently.

I cleared my throat and straightened my back on the piano bench.
“This is a piece called Liebestraum—‘Dream of Love’. I want to be able to play it by memory.”
Suddenly, I recalled the gentle voice of the piano academy director from my previous life. I hadn’t finished learning with him—he was drafted before we could complete the course.

Ding—
I struggled to pull up old memories and continued the piece, clumsily.
War had begun quietly beneath the surface of ordinary days.

The life we thought would continue endlessly—was shattered in an instant. All I wanted was for the tragedy I lived through never to happen again.
Ding—
In the end, I couldn’t finish and lifted my hands from the keys.

The surge of emotion was too much to contain.
“…It’s been too long since I played.”
I gave an awkward smile and tried to stand up with a vague excuse.

But at some point, Masera had approached and now sat beside me. He placed his fingers on the keys.
“Music education is usually reserved for nobles, but I also learned piano.”
“Who taught you?”

“When I was a child soldier, I was taken prisoner once. A colonel of the enemy forces taught me.”
Masera pressed the keys with his long fingers.
“That colonel was said to be mad, cruel, and a devil worshipper. But…”

He looked down at me and added,
“Up close, he was just a regular person. He even released me after I had destroyed several of his battalions.”
Then he began to play—elegantly.

The piece was one full of deep, serious history and…
It was Chopsticks.
“…So the savage, mad, devil-worshipping colonel captured you and taught you Chopsticks before letting you go?”

“Yes.”
“Aha.”
He looked so grave and serious, I couldn’t even laugh.

So I played a solemn duet of Chopsticks with him.
Pfft.
But then I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

He remained expressionless and asked,
“Is it funny?”
“I just imagined it and—yeah. Sorry.”

“I said it to make you laugh. You looked like you were about to cry.”
His eyes, locked onto mine, narrowed gracefully.
“And… I should probably sleep in this room tonight. Everyone thinks it’s our conjugal night.”

* * *
Meanwhile, Count Queensguard wore a beaming smile.
Who would’ve thought that, immediately after an article claimed the Nox territory was useless wasteland, it would be elevated to “land of opportunity” thanks to investment from the Medeian Queen?

“I can tell what our dear first son-in-law is thinking.”
He knew full well of Duke Recanosa’s inferiority complex toward Masera. And it was obvious Helene didn’t want to lose to some maid, so she would’ve sided with the duke.
These types… always driven by pride and emotion, never able to see the bigger picture.

If only Cynthia had been his real daughter instead of that prideful Helene who took after her mother.
He suddenly remembered Princess Margarita, who had fled north in pitiful condition.
“Grant Queensguard, you are the knight I trust most.”

Startled by the thought chain that emerged on its own, the Count furrowed his brow.
“…What a useless idea.”
He looked at the calendar, estimating the date, lost in thought.

“She’s a foster daughter fulfilling the contract loyally—this foster father should help her.”
Especially to stop Helene and the duke from interfering on their own whims.
Count Queensguard began planning to remain in the capital, under the pretense of finding brides for his sons—when in truth, he intended to check Helene and gain through Cynthia.

* * *
Elsewhere, Carlos had also heard about the Queen’s investment.
Even his father, the Count, was now convinced that Nox held real value.

However, in Helene’s reply, she’d written: “There’s definitely nothing in Nox. This is just an overblown scheme to gather investment for an empty development.”
‘Whatever the result, it’ll end up in my hands. I hold her weaknesses. Impersonating royalty… murder…’
There was no scenario in which he would lose.

If Masera ever learned the full truth and still accepted Cynthia, Carlos figured he could at least receive a hefty payoff for his silence.
‘But then I wouldn’t be able to use her anymore, would I?’
「You think that girl’s going to look at you forever? Not from where I’m standing. People change fast. What if the leash slips out of your hand?」

That was a side note Helene had added in her letter.
Carlos recalled Cynthia’s once-warm eyes, now cold and hollow, her voice devoid of feeling.
Maybe it would be better to keep her shackled for life. And now, he finally had an excuse to stay in the capital.

It was then—
“I wonder how Cynthia will react when she hears I’ve come to the capital to find a bride.”
Carlos flinched, startled to hear his own thoughts spoken aloud.

At the door stood his younger brother, Edford, puffing up his chest in a ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) cocky pose.
“Unlike you, I’d be willing to give up everything if Cynthia chose me.”
Big talk, small man.

Carlos sighed.
Neither of the brothers had any idea that the Count was planning to dispose of Cynthia altogether.