The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
I stepped out into the garden and looked up at the clear night sky for the first time in a while.

As I stood there, mesmerized by the sharp fluorescent aurora above, someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder.
“Hello, Princess Cynthia.”
An elderly woman with graying hair looked at me with a kind smile.

Who was she? I hadn’t seen her in the ballroom…
The lady was wearing an expensive dress, though it was quite worn. I noticed a seam on the sleeve had come undone and stared at it for a moment.
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

I greeted her politely for now, and she suddenly clasped my hands.
“I heard about the marriage some time ago. I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to meet you.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she gave a sorrowful smile.

“And you are…?”
“I am Madam Eleonora del Visente. I was like a mother to the colonel.”
The Visente who supposedly gave up her title to repay a debt to Masera?

There was something unsettling about the way her smile gleamed under the moonlight. Goosebumps rose on my arms.
Madam Eleonora said,
“So that makes me your mother-in-law, doesn’t it?”
“Pardon? Because you were like a mother to him, you’re counting yourself as my mother-in-law?”

…What on earth? I looked at her with a baffled expression.
“I’ve never heard anything about a mother-in-law or anything similar.”
Wait a minute—wasn’t it the Visente house that Masera was adopted into and then left due to some unsavory incident?

Madam Eleonora let out a sigh and wore a pitiful expression.
“I suppose you wouldn’t have. There was a terrible misunderstanding between us and our adopted son. No matter how we tried to contact him or meet, he refused. That’s why I came to this gathering—just to see you. I’m hoping you might help.”
“And what is your relation to the ducal family?”
“Well, let’s see… maybe a distant cousin…?”

Isn’t that just a stranger?
As she folded her fingers, trying to count out the connection, she said,
“We lost our young son in a bombing long ago. That’s why we adopted Masera—he resembled our deceased child.”

Madam Eleonora began recounting her story with Masera.
“We were truly happy while living together. But my husband… he never recovered from the loss of our son. He wasn’t in any state to take care of Masera, so in the end…”
She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, growing teary.

“I think he believed we abandoned him. He must’ve felt betrayed. I want to meet him, just once, to clear up that misunderstanding.”
“How unfortunate… Please stay strong.”
I put on a sympathetic expression and gently patted her back as she cried.

“He must’ve been so lonely and in pain. It’s late, but I still want to give him the love of a family. Don’t you also wish for Masera to have a family of his own, Princess?”
“Well, what matters is what he wants.”
“If you speak kindly to him, perhaps he’ll change his mind.”

I kept looking at her with a gentle smile.
“And why would I do that?”
At my sweet-toned voice, Madam Eleonora suddenly widened her eyes in disbelief, as if struck dumb.

If she truly thought of him as a son, she wouldn’t be acting like this.
A real mother asks first whether her child is well, if they’re hurt or struggling.
This confirmed it: the house Masera had once been adopted into—and then left under shady circumstances—was indeed the Visente family.

* * *
The Count of Visente had fallen into great debt to a massive organization known as Commedia dell’Arte.
His wife, Eleonora, tried to dismiss it as “my husband’s responsibility,” but she quickly realized such excuses would not fly.

“We don’t let people die easy.”
She also came to understand just how terrifying those words were.
Those indebted to the organization had to perform harsh labor until the debt was fully repaid. And once they grew too old to work, they were forced to beg.

It was a life worse than death—a life no better than livestock.
“A famous war hero is our adopted son. We’re not in contact now, but…”
She blurted out Masera’s identity in desperation, clinging to survival.

“Then bring the money before the deadline. If you come back empty-handed, run, or miss the deadline… we’ll show you what hell really is.”
And so, this was the reason Madam Eleonora sought out Cynthia.
As she told her story, Cynthia only gave lukewarm responses and soon excused herself with a smile, saying she’d been away from the gathering too long.

‘Masera would’ve never told her about us.’
Before coming here, she’d assumed Cynthia was a naïve princess raised in a greenhouse.
She expected Cynthia would naturally show deference and hear her out, just because she was “like” a mother-in-law.

But the girl had rudely walked away first.
‘If she’d married into our family, princess or not, I’d have made sure she was educated properly.’
Still, given how desperate her situation was, she couldn't afford to lash out in anger.

“Perhaps I should ask the Duchess—Cynthia’s elder sister—for help.”
Eleonora recalled the advice of a man who seemed to be high-ranking within the organization.
‘Since she granted the invitation, maybe she’ll help.’

She decided she would seek out Helene next.
* * *
Helene entered the lounge, her face pale.

“That’s impossible. No way. She was just a maid.”
At the time, Cynthia had shown no signs of distinction, nor had she any opportunity to study in secret while working.
‘Could she have learned about the other royal inheritances too?’

The inheritance passed down to the last princess, Margarita, wasn’t limited to Nox and Dias.
But since she passed away without ever speaking of it, no one knew what it truly was.
At that moment, a woman in a worn dress entered with a knock.

“I heard you were here… May I have a word?”
“Of course. May I call you Aunt?”
Recognizing Madam Eleonora, Helene welcomed her with a friendly smile.

Madam Eleonora dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry to ask for help again after you were kind enough to invite me.”
“I heard recently that Count Visente had fallen into serious debt. That must be worrying.”

Reassured by Helene’s warm tone, Madam Eleonora began explaining her difficult circumstances.
Helene, listening attentively, sighed and offered her a cup of {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} tea.
“Still, you were his adoptive parents. How could he turn away in your time of need?”

Leaving Cynthia, who held leverage over her, unchecked would only lead to future trouble.
Suddenly, Helene’s lips curved as she hit upon a clever idea.
“Auntie, the adoption records for Colonel Visente still exist, don’t they? Legally, family members are obligated to repay each other’s debts. He took the title—you’d think he’d at least do that much.”

Just like the descendants of the royal family who are still hated for their ancestors’ crimes, this world still held on to the idea of collective punishment.
Adoptive parents who gambled themselves into debt, and a war hero who abandoned them—
Wasn’t that a story ripe for public tearing?

If he refused to pay and continued ignoring them, he’d eventually become the organization’s target and be harassed until the debt was repaid.
“Duchess, may I ask your advice? He’s ignored every attempt I’ve made to reach out.”
At her request for help, Helene hid her malicious intent behind a pleasant smile.

‘That man, Capitano… he really is a master of destruction.’
She could only feel grateful to the one who taught her such a wicked tactic.