The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

Masera and I's engagement ceremony was drawing near before I even realized it.
“The budget for the engagement ceremony is here. Once you review and approve it, we’ll proceed. Also, please let us know whom you’d like to invite so we can prepare the invitations…”
“But we already filed our marriage registration, didn’t we? Is an engagement ceremony still necessary?”

Why are we doing this?
I had been wondering about it all along.
The adjutant offered a half-hearted explanation.

“It’s for formality.”
I’m the type who can’t stand unanswered questions, so I headed straight to the mansion’s library and pored over books on family law.
That’s when I found out: “Only after the wedding ceremony is completed is the marriage registration considered fully approved.”

But nowhere did it say an engagement ceremony was required.
After finishing getting dressed, I stared out at the line of cars pulling up to the mansion.
Then I checked the time and immediately got up to head to Masera’s office.

Knock knock—
As the door opened with a light knock, I saw Masera dressed in a ceremonial uniform.
Regardless of his feelings toward me, we needed to walk in together at the ceremony, so I had come to escort him.

“I came to escort you. Don’t I look great?”
I wasn’t expecting an answer.
Seated at his desk, Masera kept his eyes coldly fixed on the documents before him.

Lifting the hem of my skirt slightly, I spoke in an excited voice.
“The engagement dress you prepared is gorgeous. You’ve really got an eye for these things!”
I twirled once, showing off the dress with flourish—only for his expression to turn completely rigid.
“That dress was sent by your brother, Viscount Carlos.”

That damn Carlos sent it? I quickly hardened my expression.
“Oh, I was being sarcastic. It’s awful. Should I change?”
Masera lowered his gaze icily and spoke.

“I don’t care what you wear…”
“You mean I look good in anything, right? Thanks.”
“I have no interest.”

“Ah, so you're saying it’s too obvious to thank you for?”
Masera eventually finished saying what he meant, and I, using my invincible technique, interpreted it the way I wanted to.
Still expressionless, he waved a hand.

“I have urgent paperwork to deal with. Just sit down.”
“Where should I sit?”
“Stand, then. And if you could keep your mouth shut for just ten minutes, that would be ideal.”

What am I supposed to do with this man's polite way of biting people?
As a form of protest, I stood upright in front of him.
Roughly ten minutes passed.

Now I could finally speak. I opened my mouth.
“Please be affectionate in front of my family. Like we’re hopelessly in love.”
“I told you not to make demands. And it hasn’t been ten minutes yet.”

“But the law says we have to go through with the wedding for the marriage to be fully recognized, right? What if my loving /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ father gets upset and calls off the engagement?”
Masera stared at me silently.
In those 9.5 minutes of silence, I had analyzed the blueprints and documents I glimpsed on his desk.

In marriages between noble houses, each side usually exchanges something they want. What Masera had demanded from the Count of Queensguard was a wasteland called .
The count had paid a massive price to pull off this fraudulent marriage, and in return he received worthless land?
[Bariesa Royal Legacy]

From the paperwork, it seemed to have once been royal land.
But there was a different reason Masera wanted that seemingly useless land with a higher tax burden.
[Large-Scale Development Plan]

A development project involving railroads was planned there, which meant the land was potentially immensely valuable.
There was likely a massive resource deposit on the site. That’s why Masera couldn’t afford this marriage to fall apart.
Of course, there’s no way the money-hungry Count of Queensguard didn’t already know this.

I clenched my fists, recalling something I read in the family law books.
[If a spouse dies within a year of marriage, the dowry is returned to the spouse’s family.]
The count was thinking on a much grander scale.

Once development began with Masera’s capital, the count planned to reclaim the land.
Through my death.
Fortunately, Masera has no reason to kill me.

At least not within the first year of marriage.
To avoid getting killed by the count within that year—and to be able to negotiate even if my true identity is exposed—I’ll need Masera’s trust.
Winning that man’s heart is probably the only way.

“…Let’s go.”
Having finished his work, Masera stood and straightened his attire.
Matching his long, brisk strides, I walked beside him and said,

“Should we come up with pet names to make us look like we’re madly in love?”
That way the count wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me.
“I’d rather die.”

He said it with the most terrifying face in the world.
Ugh, such a prickly cheese-cat. Why is he so against everything?
* * *

The banquet hall where the engagement ceremony was held bustled with guests.
A noblewoman pointed and said to her companions,
“Look, the Queensguard family is here.”

She gestured toward the Count of Queensguard, Helene, Carlos, and Edford, who were surrounded by other nobles.
This was also the first time the veiled descendants of the Queensguard family were publicly showing their faces in high society.
“They’re all quite striking.”

“The children must take after their father.”
No one thought to associate the completely off-looking Edford with the rest of the Queensguard family.
Meanwhile, Carlos, holding a glass of champagne, stared fixedly at today’s main star—Cynthia, who stood on the staircase of the engagement hall.

Clad in an elegant gown and dazzling jewelry, she was captivating enough to draw every man’s gaze.
Beside her stood Masera, who looked a bit cold but wore a faint smile at the corners of his mouth.
“I’ve never seen such a perfect couple. Like something out of a painting.”

Even from afar, the two of them radiated so brightly that the guests could only heap praise upon them.
Carlos felt a strange twisting in his gut.
Just then, Helene’s fiancé—the Duke of Recanosa—entered the hall.

He was a tall, handsome man with black hair and blue eyes.
“Your Grace, thank you for attending my sister’s engagement.”
Blushing, Helene greeted him. The duke nodded slightly.

“It was only right that I come. I also have ties with Brigadier Visente.”
The duke glanced around the hall.
In fact, this estate had once belonged to his uncle, who served as the former supreme commander.

He had once aspired to follow in his uncle’s footsteps, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t surpass Masera’s capabilities.
Ever since, he’d been labeled as the one who lost to a war orphan.
Though he harbored a sense of inferiority toward Masera, he also felt a certain superiority.

Masera marrying Cynthia Queensguard was clearly an attempt to see through and obstruct his plans.
“How have you been, Your Grace?”
The Count of Queensguard welcomed the duke with proper decorum.

As the two men shook hands, their gazes locked in a peculiar tension.
“It’s been a while.”
The Count of Queensguard was a man of great cunning.

After sending a fake bride to Masera, he had confided to the duke that he planned to “handle” her before the one-year marriage period ended.
It was a proposal the duke gladly welcomed.
‘A war orphan, no matter how hard he tries, could never be the real thing like me.’

With a fake in his arms, Masera would spend his life chasing shadows and eventually be left a loser.
But just as the duke was basking in that feeling of victory, he saw Cynthia descending the stairs.
Bathed in chandelier light, her golden hair shimmered like silver as she came closer.

‘So that’s the fake?’
There was a legend in the Bariesa royal family—that children blessed by the winter god were born as white as snow.
Thinking the count had picked the perfect fake, the duke’s eyes gradually widened as he watched her approach.

“Greetings, Your Grace. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
With a bright smile, she looked just like Princess Margarita of the royal palace—a girl he’d glimpsed only briefly as a child, long ago.