The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
“When will the train station in Nox be finished?”
Cynthia asked, nibbling on the cotton candy she had just bought on the street.

“Around the time of the midnight sun, if we’re fast.”
“Early summer? That’s quicker than I expected. We’ll need to prepare to receive settlers in advance. I’d like to visit before then.”
Masera couldn’t help but notice the wistful look on Cynthia’s face as she turned her head. He wondered what was behind that expression.

“We can go after the harsh season has passed.”
Even at his suggestion, her gaze remained distant, fixed on the snowflakes drifting slowly like falling petals.
“After the bitter cold ends, it’s not spring that arrives… just a slightly less frigid winter pretending to be spring.”

Masera looked at her intently.
In truth, she was simply disappointed that the only seasonal festivals they had were things like ice fishing tournaments or ice-breaking contests, not anything like the flower-filled spring festivals.
Masera spoke.

“Then let’s go abroad to see spring.”
“Oh? That’s an option.”
Only then did Cynthia’s expression brighten.

She turned to Eugene, who was chewing his cotton candy without expression.
“Eugene, let’s go find spring one day.”
“I’ve already seen it. When your nose itches and you sneeze nonstop, that’s spring.”

“That’s just a pollen allergy, isn’t it?”
As the two continued chatting, Masera glanced up at the sky, now slightly darker.
The snow that once poured heavily enough to obscure vision had grown light as feathers. The weather had warmed a little.
It seemed the snow was finally letting up after a long time.

* * *
Back at the residence, Masera sat in deep contemplation.
'How did things come to this?'

He couldn’t explain why he kept thinking about Cynthia. It felt like he had slowly become stained by her, without even realizing it.
Looking back, he wasn’t anyone special to her.
She was kind and fair to everyone. She had a way of making people feel like they mattered.

'And I haven’t even done anything she’d like.'
Didn’t he himself firmly state that their marriage was nothing more than a transaction?
The doctor had said that living in a cold, dark land where all four seasons felt like winter could affect a person’s mind.

Maybe Cynthia would one day just leave—to chase spring in a land far warmer than this endless cycle of winter.
'Did she help things move so quickly just because she wants to leave me sooner? What if… what if she faked her death and vanished?'
Was being by his side that unbearable?

“I suppose we’ve both achieved what we wanted… We can go our separate ways without regret now, can’t we?”
Masera, lost in the imagined scene, shook his head firmly.
“That can’t happen.”

Other men would come crawling to her, offering remarriage for her royal blood.
Wasn’t the original point of this marriage to prevent the monarchy’s resurgence?
He tried to stay logical, but he couldn’t shake the image of men kneeling before Cynthia with flowers and rings.

Even if his own feelings for her were uncertain, he absolutely couldn’t bear to witness that.
'...If I must, I’ll use every means to keep her by my side.'
And surely, being liked was better than being hated.

With that, he went straight to his officers for advice.
“What makes a woman happy?”
It was such an unexpected question from someone so disinterested in women that all the officers froze in shock.

“Do you mean… the Princess?”
Masera nodded.
They’d already heard the scandalous rumor that he had walked through town holding baby’s breath flowers—but to hear he was putting this much thought into her?

Even Captain Declan, who usually disliked Cynthia, looked dumbfounded.
The others, however, had a more favorable view of her.
'She’s kind and sweet. Always ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ brings tasty food. Whatever happened with the royals before, it’s not her fault.'

At that moment, one of the sergeants, blushing, cautiously asked,
“So, uh… what kind of ‘happiness’ are we talking about? Something, uh… physical?”
“Of course that’s part of it.”

'He doesn’t look like he’s lacking in that department… Did she scold him or something?'
Misinterpreting completely, the sergeant’s face turned even redder.
One of the lieutenants, who liked to think of himself as a romance expert, cleared his throat.

“We’re all adults here, aren’t we? Let’s speak frankly.”
As the topic suddenly turned more intimate, the sergeant rubbed his cheeks, unsure of where to look.
Then a senior officer, married five years, offered his take.

“Women like sincerity.”
Others chimed in as well.
“You have to approach gently. Even if it takes time…”

“No way, you’ve got to go in strong, hit ‘em with impact. Ever heard of intensity?”
'These perverts! How can they speak so bluntly about this stuff?!'
The poor sergeant, clearly unaccustomed to such talk, covered his ears and closed his eyes, whispering “pure thoughts, pure thoughts” under his breath.

By the end of the long discussion, opinions had split into two camps: the romantics, who favored heartfelt letters, and the wealth faction, who advocated for lavish gifts.
'...So I’m the only innocent one here, huh.'
Realizing he was the odd one out, the sergeant smiled faintly in defeat.

“We don’t have much time. So the sooner, the better. I don’t care how much it costs.”
Masera opted for the aggressive, financially backed strategy.
An officer from a wealthy family offered further advice.

“The Princess has been active in social circles lately, hasn’t she? You should give her something rare and extravagant—something everyone will talk about. Like that necklace the Sun King gave his empress two centuries ago. Something with historical narrative.”
“That’s a national treasure. You’d have to loot it in war.”
In any case, the consensus seemed to be: sincerity + high value + a compelling story.

The operations officer, ever the strategist, adjusted his glasses and said,
“Why don’t we bombard her with quantity that meets all those criteria? It’s a proven negotiation tactic.”
“A true tactician.”

Masera nodded in approval, arms crossed.
* * *
The next day, Cynthia was shocked to find her room overflowing with gift boxes.

Surrounded by a fortress of parcels stacked to her height, she turned to Masera standing at the doorway.
“Brigadier, what is all this?”
“Gifts I picked up while returning from Nox…”

“But the tags say they’re from the capital department store?”
'Too sharp.'
Masera, absolutely unwilling to admit he bought them “to make the princess happy,” scrambled to improvise.

“I heard today is some kind of gift-giving day.”
With all the marketing holidays companies had invented, it was a believable excuse.
“Wow!”

Cynthia seemed more surprised that Masera had remembered any kind of occasion at all than by the sheer amount of presents.
“You said appearances matter, didn’t you? That we should look like we’re getting along. So I’m showing off.”
“I’ll go beyond that—I’ll take the show global!”

“That’s… unnecessary.”
Cynthia opened a small box first. Her eyes went wide at the sight of sparkling jewelry. Just one glance and she knew it was expensive.
“You even had my name engraved on the gem?”

So he went this far just for appearances? Cynthia blinked.
“It’s because you want me to treasure it, right?”
“Yes.”

'And if you ever run away and try to pawn it, it’ll make tracking you down much easier.'
It was all part of Masera’s plan. Feeling satisfied, he decided it was time to bring up the hardest topic.
“Let’s go out.”

“Why?”
“To… dine out. And enjoy some cultural activities—”
“A date?”

Cynthia’s question made him feel cornered.
He couldn’t bring himself to say he wanted to make her happy, so he bit his tongue.
In the end, he blurted something else out.

“I’d like to request your participation in a field inspection for Nox’s residential zone development.”
“Ah, sounds good.”
In the end, he succeeded in arranging a not-a-date-but-definitely-a-date.

The snow had stopped, and he planned to follow the strategy officer’s carefully crafted “date course.”
“Spend just one full day together. Eat something good. See something beautiful.”
Masera opened the itinerary the officer had written… then calmly folded it and tossed it into the trash.

“I’ll follow your lead instead.”
The officer may have been skilled in strategy and tactics—but clearly had no talent when it came to dating.