The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

From the beginning, Cynthia and Masera had planned only to make an appearance at the banquet and then return home early.
“Getting all dressed up every day is a pain, but I like it because there’s so much good food. Since diplomats from all over attend, the dishes are really diverse…”
Cynthia chattered cheerfully as usual, while Masera only nodded or gave curt replies.

He had left the garden right after that moment earlier, without hearing Cynthia’s answer to the duke’s proposal.
He had run away—afraid of what her answer might be.
Because he had once fabricated a scandal involving Carlos, he wasn’t fazed at all by photos of Cynthia and the duke together. But the unfinished letter he’d found, and the words of regret he’d piled up over time—they all seemed to press against his vital point.

Everything had become a “justified reason for her to leave.”
She might be afraid of me, a man who holds a grudge against royalty.
That’s why he decided to pretend he didn’t know what he saw.

Because if he asked, she might run away for real.
And in that moment, he might lose all control and do something to her that couldn’t be undone.
* * *

I could sense something off in Masera’s mood.
From the moment we left the banquet until it was time to sleep, he remained silent or spoke only when absolutely necessary.
His lowered eyelids shadowed over eyes that looked like ashes after a fire.

“Go ahead and sleep first. I’ve got some work to do.”
Even his voice was subdued and low.
This man, who had always charged forward, didn’t ask me to stay with him tonight.

It felt like a train, once so loud and full of momentum, was slowly running out of steam and coming to a stop.
Back in the bedroom alone, I collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Did something bad happen? Or… is he angry at me?
Suddenly, the duke’s proposal from the banquet flashed through my mind.

Could it be that Count Queensguard had subtly let something slip to provoke him?
“That’s awfully sudden, Your Grace. What you’re proposing goes against social convention. Marriage is a lifelong commitment—it’s not something you can just break off lightly.”
I had, of course, rejected the duke’s offer without hesitation.

“I’ve sent you gifts repeatedly, but it seems my feelings weren’t delivered properly.”
I replayed the duke’s words in my head, and then my eyes flew open as I covered my mouth in realization.
I’d never received a single gift from him.

Masera must’ve intercepted and gotten rid of them before they ever reached me.
He noticed everything from the beginning, didn’t he?
Even the time he said he was afraid I’d disappear—maybe that fear was rooted in this misunderstanding all along.
* * *

I stood in front of Masera’s office door, holding a special snack Zade had made just for him.
Misunderstandings should be cleared up quickly—through honest conversation.
Knock knock—

“You awake…?”
But like some ex-boyfriend who couldn’t let go, I knocked several times, and still no answer came.
I guess I’ll just leave the snack and go.

I quietly opened the door and stepped into the office. Tonight, the empty space felt particularly cold and still.
He was probably sleeping in the room attached to the office.
Tiptoeing to his desk, I gently set down the snack—then noticed something sticking out.

It was a photo, half-tucked beneath some papers.
The first thing I saw was something familiar—my clothes.
That’s my outfit…

I pulled the photo out—and my eyes widened in shock.
It showed me and the duke, sitting side by side on the bed inside Anna’s house.
“This is…!”

An image more than enough to stir up misunderstanding!
There’s no way Masera had someone tailing me, so who took it?
It couldn’t be one of «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» my loyal, tight-lipped bodyguards… Could it have been Charles, the spy from the Count’s estate?

Whoever it was, I could clear this up.
If I explained with complete sincerity—
“You’ve been told not to enter my office without permission.”

Masera’s calm voice came from behind me.
Oh—right! The rule Diego had told me about when I first arrived here, like some kind of Neapolitan ghost story!
“I’m sorry. You didn’t look well, so I thought something sweet might cheer you up…”

I stammered like someone caught red-handed. Masera’s eyes flicked to the photo in my hand.
Feeling the cold weight of his gaze, I quickly set the photo down and began to explain.
“I didn’t snoop through your desk—it was just sitting there. Let me explain the photo first—”

But I couldn’t go on.
Anna had delivered Helene’s fake letter. The duke had hidden her afterward, but then she suddenly disappeared.
To explain any of this, I’d have to start from the very beginning.

A dull ache pressed in on my chest, and I curled my hands into fists.
Right… I was never in a position to speak my true heart.
I hadn’t told him about the purge of the staff at the Count’s estate—not because I didn’t want to, but because I feared he might reach the truth on his own.

Watching my face, Masera swept a hand through his platinum hair, tightening his jaw.
“You don’t need to explain. I’m not angry at all. And I trust you.”
But his expression was anything but composed. His so-called trust felt more like a blind devotion—like someone resigned to being stabbed in the heart.

His calm tone held a faint tremble.
“I know you’re special. I know there are many who covet you. I know you’re a good person who wouldn’t do something dishonest. But still…”
His words were drowned out by a sudden, deafening boom—

KU-U-UUUNG—!
A rumble like the earth itself was splitting apart.
The floor shook so hard I nearly fell, and books and objects started crashing to the ground.

Heavy thuds and the shattering of glass rang out all at once.
Then I saw it—a tall cabinet was tilting toward me.
My vision spun. The crash of it collapsing echoed in my ears.

BANG!
Suddenly, the tremor ended and silence fell.
When I opened my tightly shut eyes, Masera was on top of me, shielding me with his body.

“...But I don’t have any certainty that you’ll stay by my side.”
The faint traces of blue in his eyes, tinged with violet, reminded me of the last flicker of a flame sinking to the bottom of a lake.
A desperate hunger flared within those fading eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t interfere. I’m the one who said, from the moment you arrived, that I wouldn’t care who you met or what you did.”
He pushed himself up with both hands, exhaling heavily.
“But now... it’s not just that I care. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know if it’s possessiveness or desire or what, but I hate the idea of losing you.”

He stopped, turning his head away. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed something rising to the surface.
Then, in a voice tightly restrained, he continued:
“I know you don’t fully trust me. But I don’t want you to become a tool for producing heirs or be used as some political pawn.”

“……”
Even kings were under the thumb of their sovereign states. Especially royals from fallen houses—what dignity could they hope to have?
To bear royal children, revive the monarchy in name, serve as a puppet mouthpiece while a regent rules, and then be executed for starting another war—it was a future of disposable royalty.

He was sick with worry over such a future for me.
“I don’t want to watch you be ruined by the selfishness and greed of men. But I also don’t want you to die beside me.”
Whether it was the roar of the earthquake or the desperate pleas of this normally reticent man, I couldn’t get a word out.

He looked completely lost, like he had no idea what to do.
Catching his breath, he met my gaze and spoke again.
“This is all my fault. I’ll try harder from now on. I don’t care if you don’t love me. But if you truly hate being by my side so much that you’d rather die…”

His voice, restrained like a soldier’s, nonetheless carried a note of anguish.
His face was as expressionless and hard as always, but I could sense a crack beginning to form.
The floor trembled again, and he lowered himself to pull me into his arms. His hair brushed against my cheek as he buried his face near my neck.

Then I felt the chill of his breath against my ear—and heard his low voice.
“Just… do whatever you want.”