The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

“Representative Cynthia, you’ve received a large number of letters. Not only from Lutemia’s socialites, but also from the upper class of the Kingdom of Medeia.”
Dalia, my excellent aide—and the first person to call me “Representative”—brought in a mountain of mail.
I skimmed through the letters quickly.

Rather than people wanting to meet me out of genuine admiration for my incredible accomplishments… most of them just wanted to leech off the crumbs of my success.
“Since you’ve just started engaging socially, why not host a party at your residence?”
“As expected of my brilliant strategist. Excellent idea.”

“Please draft a guest list for the event. I’ll use it as a reference point to assess your future network.”
Holding my fountain pen, I glanced at Dalia and asked,
“Will the guest list for the military personnel be handled by the Brigadier General?”

“You can coordinate it with him as you go.”
She leaned in close, eyes sparkling as she whispered,
“In the capital’s social scene, not the battlefield, it’s usually the military wives who hold real power.”

A soldier’s rank directly affects their spouse’s status, and earning favor from the spouse of a superior can significantly impact promotions.
Good thing I was a general’s wife. Otherwise, I’d probably be out doing volunteer kimchi drives and singing performances for clout.
As I looked over the letters addressed to me, I began sorting out who not to invite first.

Among them, of course, were a few faces I remembered clearly from Medeia.
As I separated the mail, Dalia asked what criteria I was using.
“These are the Emotional Damage Group, these are the Conflict Group, and over here is the Creepy Gossip Group…”

Despite my cheerful tone, Dalia's expression gradually darkened.
“…You must’ve gone through a lot because of people’s prejudice.”
I smiled as if it were nothing.
“It’s fine. People who live with prejudice have to constantly prove they’re harmless—but, just like right now, anyone can become a subject of judgment. Maybe I’m simply someone who can spot kindness and malice faster than most.”

Better that than being fooled by someone who seemed kind, only to be betrayed later.
Dalia lowered her gaze and sighed.
“I was once prejudiced against you myself. I’m still ashamed of it.”

“It’s okay. No one’s free from bias. But even distorted views eventually lean toward sincerity. You saw through to my heart and reached out first, didn’t you?”
At one point, I even thought Dalia watered down my cocoa out of spite. My own prejudice created another. But if both people are decent at heart, misunderstandings can be resolved.
For some reason, Dalia's cheeks turned red, and she cleared her throat with a soft ahem.

“Thank you. Also… for reference, I prepared this with Adjutant Diego to assist your social activities.”
“Thank you so much!”
I accepted the neatly prepared sheet she handed me.

“There are a lot of outdoor activities…”
Evening events included parties, plays, and operas, but daytime was packed with tennis, hunting, horseback riding, golf… mostly physically demanding activities.
Not great for someone sensitive to sunlight like me. Wasn’t there anything like “lying in a warm room gossiping while eating snacks”?

“Dalia, I’m not really good at anything.”
These were the kind of cultural activities nobles were expected to master from birth, but since I couldn’t exactly say I used to be a maid, I added a soft excuse.
“I lived in the countryside, so I never really had the chance to do these things.”

“I understand. Though… most of these are taught from a very young age.”
Dalia's expression became slightly conflicted. Getting a tutor now would invite gossip.
She added,

“You can still learn step by step. In fact, the soldiers are scheduled to play tennis during today’s leisure hours. Why not give it a try?”
At her suggestion, I looked out at the bright sunlight pouring through the window.
Leisure time started at 4 p.m., which meant the tennis court would be in the building’s shadow by then.

My arm had mostly healed, so I could ask Masera to teach me.
I imagined a sweet moment: the gentle husband teaching tennis, and the clumsy but eager wife learning beside him.
He’d been quite mild while helping build the cat house, after all.

Resolute, I changed into comfortable clothes and stepped outside.
* * *
But contrary to my cozy vision of couple’s tennis, Masera was completely absorbed in a match with others.

“2:1!”
“Wooooh!”
Seeing everyone in light outfits made me shiver involuntarily. They were out here playing tennis in short sleeves in this cold—were they mountain yetis?

Even Masera wore a short-sleeved polo.
After seeing him only in his formal military uniform, this casual look was oddly refreshing.
“Oh… ooooh?”

As I watched him swing the racket, his flexing forearm muscles and defined veins caught the eye and made my jaw drop.
‘Wait—this «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» is no time to be admiring that!’
Snapping back to reality, I approached a resting sergeant and asked if he could teach me how to play.

Ten minutes into the lesson…
“I suggest trying a different hobby.”
The sergeant recommended giving up after watching my continuous misses.

I asked with a sorrowful expression,
“Am I… really that untalented?”
“Yes. You are naturally unathletic.”

The blunt T-type sergeant nodded firmly. Apparently, he wasn’t even going to offer false hope.
After he left, I stayed alone, holding the racket, trying to practice. I had to at least manage to hit the ball.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even make contact, and my enthusiasm began to fade. Should I just give up?

That’s when someone placed a hand on my shoulder.
“That’s not how you do it.”
Masera was looking down at me with his usual detached expression.

“Hold it like this.”
He placed his hand over mine on the racket. Our bodies were nearly touching from behind, and I suddenly felt self-conscious.
As he gripped my wrist and guided the swing, his warm breath brushed against my neck.

“How’s your arm? I hope you’re not overdoing it.”
The whisper made me flinch slightly and laugh awkwardly.
“I’m fine.”

‘I feel… weird.’
My heartbeat quickened, and my cheeks felt a little warm. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel during a lesson.
“I’ll give it a shot.”

I shook my head and quickly stepped away to put distance between us.
He tossed the tennis ball lightly, but I still missed completely.
After three failed attempts, Masera stood silently, watching me.

“…I guess it’s hopeless? Should I just give up?”
I asked glumly.
I expected him to say something like, “Yes, give up, you have no talent.”

As I watched him cautiously, he surprised me by speaking gently.
“It’s alright.”
“…Huh?”

“No one’s good at something right away. Just keep going until it works.”
It wasn’t my first try, though—I’d already been at it for an hour. But I decided not to say that.
Holding the ball, he offered some advice.

“I’ll throw it slowly. Just focus on the ball.”
I squinted, narrowing my gaze on the ball.
This time, he tossed it more gently, softly.

Tap—
“Wow!”
It wasn’t a great toss, but I managed to hit the edge of the racket.

“Well done.”
Masera smiled faintly as he praised me for something so small.
Somehow the sun had shifted, casting warm orange light over his hair. His usually sharp pupils looked rounder than usual.

Then, as if catching himself, the relaxed curve of his mouth suddenly tightened with self-awareness.
“You said something unusual. You don’t seem like the type to give up.”
He said it like a justification, almost awkwardly.

“In your eyes, I’m someone who doesn’t give up?”
When I asked, Masera didn’t answer—he just turned away.
What, afraid we’d slip into some cheesy teen drama conversation? Is that why you’re fleeing without a word?

I chased after him as he was leaving.
“More importantly, we need to talk about the invitations. When would be a good time?”
“After dinner. I’ll come to your bedroom.”

Masera answered stiffly and walked away.
I stared blankly after his retreating figure and muttered,
“…Bedroom?”

It’s just a perfectly innocent meeting to discuss who to invite, so why did it sound so… suggestive?
I shivered and ran a hand down my arm.