The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
“Then, have a lovely day.”
After Makia left, Masera stood silently watching a clown-faced man handing out balloons to children, his thoughts drifting.

This man named Makia—someone he couldn’t even remember—had stirred memories long buried. Though it left him deeply unsettled, he didn’t show it in front of Cynthia.
On the way out of the zoo, Cynthia chattered on about the animals they’d seen.
“This place is amazing. The animals looked so healthy, right? I should come back here with Eugene. I’ll buy one of those bowtie penguin plushies next time. Was its name ‘Ponguin’ or something?”

“It was Baron Günther von Duran.”
‘So «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» she’s not too fixated on that man, huh.’
Masera, catching himself feeling relieved, awkwardly ran a hand through his platinum-blond hair.

Cynthia, walking beside him under a parasol, tugged lightly at his sleeve.
“So, where to next?”
“There’s a nearby park with ice sculptures, a war memorial, and a river walk with a view of the water.”

“The river walk.”
The two headed straight there.
Upon arriving, Cynthia clapped her hands at the sight of the snow-covered, glittering river.

“So pretty! Look, there’s a duck waddling across the frozen river! You kept a romantic place like this all to yourself?”
“I’ve shown it to you now, haven’t I?”
To Masera, it was just frozen water—but Cynthia was the type to marvel over the obvious with genuine joy.

As if she’d never gotten to enjoy simple, ordinary days.
She pointed to a bench overlooking a village on the far bank.
“I want to sit there.”
“Are your legs tired? We can find another spot…”

“No, it has to be this bench.”
“There’s snow all over it.”
“Then I’ll just brush it off.”

With gloved hands, she dusted off the snow and waved him over like it was nothing.
Masera sighed, took off his coat, and laid it on the bench before seating her on top.
“Thank you.”

A pale blush bloomed on her white cheeks. She tugged out a sleeve of the coat beneath her.
“Brigadier, sit here.”
“……”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”
Why was she acting like she was doing him a favor with his coat…?
Masera sat beside her, glancing at her quietly as she stared at the river.

‘Why are we even sitting here?’
He stayed still, unsure of her intent. Eventually, Cynthia spoke.
“You can probably see all the way to the village on the other side. You’re born with hawk eyes, huh? Jealous.”

“There’s a drunken brawl going on between two men. The bearded one will win.”
“Whoa… You can even give play-by-plays?”
Cynthia gave a flat, deflated laugh, her romantic mood shattered.

Watching her expression shift into something faintly wistful, Masera grew curious.
‘What’s going through her mind? Could she be scoping out a frozen escape route?’
But Cynthia wasn’t thinking anything like that.

‘I want cup noodles.’
Masera had no way of knowing that. Instead, a piece of advice from his doctor surfaced in his mind:
“If you want someone to open up, start by sharing something of your own.”

He thought for a moment about what to say, then began with quiet resolve.
“I don’t remember the man we met earlier.”
“…Excuse me?”

Cynthia turned to him, pulled out of her musings.
Masera kept his gaze on the children playing across the river.
“He was probably in the temporary shelter for war orphans.”

Cynthia had heard pieces of Masera’s past before, but this was the first time he’d spoken of it himself.
She nodded gently.
“I see.”

“It was like a sorting facility. They were looking for special children—ones suitable for adoption.”
She listened silently, sensing more was to come.
“I was one of them. Nobles were interested in me because of my unusual eye color.”

Masera’s eyes drifted, like he was searching through a fog of old memories.
“But I was sent back after a short adoption due to… an incident. Labeled a troublemaker, I was transferred to another orphanage. The noble who adopted me…”
He fell silent.

It was something he had never told anyone before.
A memory so shameful he had all but erased the time from his life.
For a moment, he saw an image flash through his mind—a nobleman handing a balloon to his younger self.

Masera furrowed his brow.
“Sharing sorrow can help—but it’s never easy.”
Just like the doctor said, it wasn’t easy.

“There’s always the fear they won’t understand… that they’ll leave you.”
He didn’t want to show Cynthia his darker side. He felt like, the moment he did, the life they shared would irreversibly change.
“Nobles pretend to sympathize, but they can’t comprehend even the smallest of flaws. A tragic past becomes nothing but a blemish to them.”

“Because misfortune breeds monsters.”
Masera remembered someone once saying people raised in greenhouses could never mix with those from the wild. He sighed without a sound.
After a long silence, Cynthia pointed somewhere.

“Did you see that duck slip on the ice just now?”
She let out a theatrical laugh.
Masera knew it was her way of being considerate. He said nothing and watched the duck rise and waddle away.

“It keeps slipping but doesn’t give up,” Cynthia murmured softly. “It just keeps walking.”
* * *
The day-that-wasn’t-quite-a-date ended. The next day, Diego visited Masera’s office.

“Brigadier, Count del Visente has sent another letter.”
Masera felt a wave of disgust rise at the mention of the former Count.
He had seized the title under the pretext of unpaid debt. Clearly, bitterness lingered.

“He should’ve stayed away from gambling.”
He waved a hand with a grimace.
“Shred them like always. He’s no longer a Count—no need for fancy titles.”

Thanks to the military-heavy area, the man hadn’t dared to show up in person.
“And Princess Cynthia has agreed to attend the upcoming union between the Duke of Recanosa’s family and hers…”
Diego continued his report, then suddenly commented,

“Come to think of it, you’ve been sleeping well lately. You used to wake up constantly.”
It was a habit born of war—Masera had been trained to wake at the slightest noise.
Just then, he noticed a googly eye sticker on his document folder.

‘The culprit is obvious.’
Lately, Cynthia had been bringing home bizarre stickers from a toy store trip with Eugene, secretly slapping them on his things.
He was still contemplating revenge when he finally replied:

“It’s because of the Princess.”
They’d recently begun sharing a room, under the pretext of protection—but really, he’d started sleeping beside her.
“Wanna hear something cool? I heard this at the zoo earlier. If you eat gum and chocolate together, the chocolate melts!”

“That’s… basic chemistry.”
Cynthia’s constant chattering wore him out so thoroughly, it worked like a lullaby.
She was the bedtime equivalent of a Thousand and One Nights narrator—and Masera was the king begging her to stop coming back.

He tugged at his uniform tie and frowned slightly.
“Every night, she exhausts me.”
“…Oh.”

Whatever Diego imagined that meant, he slapped a hand over his mouth with a scandalized look.
He cleared his throat, then added,
“I wasn’t going to mention this, but figured I’d better tell you before dinner…”

“Say it.”
“You have an eyeball sticker on your back.”
“Ah.”

Masera sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
* * *
The Duke of Recanosa had only recently discovered that the maid Anna had vanished.

‘The culprit’s obvious.’
He gazed at Helene, seated across the table, dining with poised elegance.
Though he was certain she was behind it, he couldn’t ask directly.

Helene, too, held back what she really wanted to say.
‘Why that maid? If it had to be someone, at least a noblewoman wouldn’t be so humiliating.’
The uncomfortable silence dragged on, broken only by occasional clinks of cutlery.

“In two days, my mother and aunts will arrive with their extended family. They’re all royalty or high nobility, so prepare accordingly. Your family will be there too.”
The Duke rose first, speaking like a man issuing orders to a subordinate.
Helene was quietly seething but gave a nod.

“By the way, who is this ‘Madam Eleonora’ listed on the guest list?”
To this, Helene replied with casual indifference,
“A distant relative of the ducal house. Eighth cousin or so. I only just learned of her.”

‘That’s practically a stranger. Why doesn’t it list a title? Is she a friend of your mother’s?’
While the Duke harbored quiet suspicion, Helene knew exactly who Madam Eleonora was.
“She’ll be useful. She’s the Brigadier’s weakness—his past he’s trying to bury.”

Madam Eleonora, Countess del Visente.
She was the noblewoman who once adopted young Masera into the Visente family.