The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
After a long, exhausting day preparing for the gathering, Helene returned to her room and began brushing her waist-length hair.
“Good evening.”

She didn’t flinch at the unexpected late-night visitor.
Capitano offered her a bouquet of flowers.
“A princess’s room should at least have a vase of fresh flowers, don’t you think?”

As he arranged them himself in a vase, Helene watched him with a strange expression. Then, as if brushing off her thoughts, she shook her head.
There was no point in feeling anything for a man whose real name she didn’t even know.
“These… are for me? How thoughtful.”

Capitano gestured to the refreshments laid out on the table.
Helene shook her head again, denying it.
“No, they’re for me. I was going to eat them myself.”

“Then let’s eat together.”
She met his smiling eyes and sat down across from him.
“I heard the recent products you’ve launched are sustaining the ducal trading guild’s profits?”

Capitano praised her recent achievements.
He always had something flattering to say. Whether or not he meant it didn’t matter—having someone say it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
After his compliments, he smoothly transitioned into his true purpose.

“Have you met Madam Eleonora?”
“Yes. She’s like a venomous snake.”
Capitano stared at Helene for a moment, then murmured,
“I tend to like people like that.”

“Is your type older women or something?”
Irritated, Helene responded with sarcasm, oblivious to the fact that her own features mirrored those of a beautiful snake.
Then she returned to her original point.

“I heard the former Count del Visente had serious gambling issues. This time he supposedly racked up debts with a criminal organization—enough to get himself killed.”
“Unluckily for him, that organization was ours. We make sure they can’t even die to escape their debts.”
It was Capitano who orchestrated the Count’s gambling downfall and arranged for Madam Eleonora to attend the upcoming gathering.

He knew well how much Masera loathed the Visente couple who had once adopted him.
The moment Masera rose to fame as a war hero, they showed up demanding money, pretending to be his parents. In the end, they’d taken payment, only to have their estate and title seized for debt repayment.
“They’ll probably play the loving foster parents and beg Princess Cynthia to help them reconcile with their son.”

Capitano picked up two gingerbread cookies and moved them like puppets.
“If it goes well, we’ll have a scene where the princess urges a heartfelt reunion with his abusers. But Cynthia doesn’t seem like someone easily manipulated.”
Despite his concern, a smile bloomed on Helene’s lips.

Knowing how meddlesome Cynthia was, it was easy to imagine her jumping in, eager to mediate.
“As I told you—ruin always starts with a small crack.”
Capitano sipped his milk tea calmly.

“We create near-at-hand tragedies and enjoy them from afar.”
Even if Cynthia caught on and responded later, Masera would still be forced to confront a past he desperately wanted to forget.
“They say he was running away. No matter how noble he was, how could they send him to someone that deranged…”

Capitano remembered a boy with a bandage on his face and a cast on his arm.
Even if he were to meet someone who understood his fractures…
With a snap, the gingerbread cookie in his hand broke cleanly in half.

If that precious person were to break… then so would he.
* * *
Helene welcomed the Grand Madam and her aunts returning from Medeia.

Relatives from the Duke’s maternal family, last seen at the wedding, were also present.
Count Queensguard, Edford, the Carlos–Valeria couple, and Cynthia arrived just in time for the gathering.
“Our war hero won’t be attending this party? [N O V E L I G H T] Shame, I was hoping to see him.”

Several women looked disappointed at Masera’s absence.
The Grand Madam and her sisters conversed joyfully with Cynthia. Their tone was vastly different from the one they used with Helene—enough that a few noblewomen murmured among themselves.
[“Hard to tell who the real daughter-in-law is.”]

When Helene approached, they smiled as if nothing had been said.
[“Helene, I heard you’ve been studying Medeian. The higher your status, the more languages you should know.”]
[“I still have a long way to go, but the more I learn, the more fun it becomes.”]

True to her prideful nature, Helene responded with flawless pronunciation.
[“You’re doing well. Did you start before the marriage?”]
At that moment, the Grand Madam approached with a champagne glass and spoke on Helene’s behalf.

[“She started after the wedding. Impressive for such a short time, isn’t it? Our Helene is quite bright.”]
[“My daughter-in-law speaks five languages, but that’s thanks to early education at home. Helene will catch up soon.”]
Cynthia watched the subtle battle of wits unfold, smiling innocently like she understood none of it.

After the Grand Madam stepped away, one noblewoman, assuming Cynthia wouldn’t understand, leaned in and asked Helene quietly,
[“Helene, is something wrong? The Duke asked to meet the Director of Intelligence privately. He wouldn’t say why.”]
[“Thank you for helping.”]

Helene stumbled slightly, only catching the gist.
[“Is it about the remaining inheritance of the Bariesa royal family?”]
[“I’m sorry. I’m not sure myself.”]

Remaining inheritance? What is she talking about? Cynthia kept smiling while pondering the cryptic remark.
Seeing her reaction, the noblewoman feigned surprise.
“Oh dear, sorry! The youngest princess must hurry and study Medeian so she can join our conversations.”

“I’ll work hard so I can be as good as my sister.”
Cynthia smiled warmly at Helene.
“You’re really smart, you know. Your new product line caused quite a stir again. I’ve always admired your flair. You used to take plain store-bought dresses and make them look original.”

Helene’s expression tensed slightly, but she forced a pleasant one as if aware of the eyes around them.
“Thank you.”
A performance for the sake of family harmony, no doubt.

After the other women left, Cynthia leaned in and whispered with concern.
“Sis, you look like you’ve lost weight. Are you eating properly?”
“What do you care?”

Helene spat the words with a smile.
But Cynthia didn’t waver. She spoke her mind calmly.
“But the sister I know wouldn’t wither away in someone else’s shadow. Your personality might be garbage, but you’re smart and business-savvy.”

The gentle tone—so much like Capitano’s—made something ache in Helene’s chest.
Recognition from a maid means nothing. And yet it stung her pride to feel moved by it.
Strangely, Cynthia had meant every word.

Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my real sister. She used to be so full of herself, but seeing her shrink like this just feels wrong.
Even if sisters fought like enemies, it usually ended over tteokbokki or chicken.
They weren’t related by blood, but Cynthia feared Helene would fall too far into darkness if left alone.

If she’d just channel all that spite into business, she could be a powerhouse.
Cynthia tried earnestly to rehabilitate her.
“If you’re already holding conversations in a new language after just a short time, then you’re way ahead of someone who’s been learning five since childhood. Theoretically, you could master twenty.”

But Helene’s voice dropped, cold with restrained fury.
“What is it you want? Do you want me to get divorced and return as a disgraced royal? Are you trying to ruin me with sweet words?”
“You’re not happy being a duchess, are you?”

“You’re using what you saw that day to mock me, aren’t you?”
“No.”
Cynthia shook her head fiercely.

“I just thought… maybe you need someone kind.”
After everything Helene had done to her, Cynthia should’ve condemned her like a villainess in a romance novel.
But what truly destroyed people wasn’t power, or violence, or death.

It was kindness.
Despite her efforts, Helene only glared at her with a chilling gaze.
“Mind your own business. Know your place.”

“…Fine. I won’t interfere anymore. We’re just strangers.”
Cynthia shook her head.
“But if you ever try to trample or use me again just because you know my secret, I won’t stand still. I’ve shown you there’s a way to succeed without stepping on anyone.”

She left the room with that warning.
Helene scoffed—until a sudden shiver ran down her spine.
How did she know about the daughter-in-law who speaks five languages? We said that in Medeian.

The conversation had gone so fast that even Helene barely kept up.
She’d been learning Medeian for over a year but pretended to have only started recently to look impressive. It had taken blood, sweat, and tears just to reach basic fluency.
A normal person couldn’t possibly follow all that.

She’d always found Cynthia oddly competent, but assumed she was just a clever commoner.
“But Princess Cynthia doesn’t seem like just anyone…”
Capitano’s offhanded remark echoed in her mind.

So she understood the refined dialect, the Medeian, all of it—and pretended not to?
Everything she’d once dismissed as her father’s support was suddenly suffocating her with dread.
Who is she really?

A creeping sense of cognitive dissonance darkened Helene’s eyes with fear.
* * *
Meanwhile, Cynthia, feeling stifled, had gone out to the garden—only to run into someone.

“Good evening, Princess.”
It was Madam Eleonora del Visente.