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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Picked the Wrong Opponent
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Masera returned to his room after deciding on the servants' punishments.
Dalia approached him with an ashamed look on her face and bowed her head.
"I'm sorry. There was a rumor circulating among the servants that the young lady had ordered corporal punishment, but I judged it to be baseless gossip and didn't report it."
"What was the basis for your judgment?"
Masera loosened his tie as he turned to her.
Dalia opened her mouth cautiously.
"From what I've observed up close, you don't handle things emotionally."
Personal opinions like "he's a good person" or "he has a kind heart" gleaned from living together could come across as empty flattery.
Even criminals who committed unspeakable atrocities were often defended by those around them with lines like, "He was always kind and good to us."
"You make them realize their mistakes on their own and apologize sincerely, without relying on violence or anger. And those who can't seem to be thoroughly excluded."
Hearing this, Masera recalled Eugene's words.
"I gave him a frog, but he didn't get mad... he even said thank you. Suddenly, I felt weird. I wanted to say sorry..."
The fact that she'd won over both Dalia and Eugene in such a short time suggested she wasn't your average person.
Masera glanced at his aide Diego, who was nodding in agreement.
"Diego. We're not in the age of great voyages anymore. What's with the feather pen?"
"It was a gift."
"From whom?"
"Miss Cynthia said she found a phoenix feather that grants eternal life and made it for me. Of course, I don't believe it's real. But it's got a nice vintage vibe..."
He was starting to feel a real sense of crisis—like he might lose his aide too.
It was one thing for their relationship to end once she got what she wanted, but having her win over the people around him and take control of the residence was a problem.
Masera felt a twinge of irritation.
'Pretending is a noble's specialty. No wonder they're all so susceptible to emotions.'
He suddenly remembered her brazen lie to her family, claiming she'd fallen for him at first sight with that innocent expression.
Like self-hypnosis, he repeated it to himself several times.
He would never like her—not now, not in the future, not ever in his lifetime.
"Your Excellency, the Lecanosa Duke and Miss Helen plan to skip the engagement ceremony and proceed straight to the wedding."
Dalia fully snapped him out of his reverie.
"Since your sister has set the date, it's time to begin full preparations for your marriage to the young lady. Before the harsh winter sets in."
"Why do you look so expectant?"
Even under her superior's displeased gaze, Dalia smiled quietly.
"We'll start with the dress. They said production will take a week."
"Yes, understood."
The news of Helen setting her wedding date spurred my own marriage preparations forward at a rapid pace.
But there wasn't much for me to do.
Dalia and Diego handled everything efficiently, and all I had to do was make the selections.
For the dress fitting, the designer visited the residence with several gowns in tow.
The designer urgently grabbed Masera, who was trying to slip away.
"Brigadier General, surely you must see the bride in her dress. And offer some kind words of praise."
"Just pick the most expensive one."
But everyone agreed with my counterargument that a sincere price meant nothing without a sincere attitude.
With no choice, he sat down, his face screaming annoyance.
As I stepped out in the first dress, I half-expected the classic fiance reaction combo from every drama: surprise, enchantment, and emotion.
But Masera's response was lukewarm.
"Good. Let's go with the last one."
"This is only the first one?"
I tried on a few more after that, but he kept repeating the same line.
"They all suit you so well it's hard to choose. Even I'm struggling. If I had to pick, I'd recommend the last one you showed."
The designer suggested the final dress.
It must have been the priciest. No wonder it looked the most luxurious and beautiful.
"The one with all the sparkles does stand out. I like it too."
Even the pragmatic aide Diego chimed in with his agreement.
It sounded convincing enough, so I voiced my approval too—only for Masera to scoff.
"We're just going to end up picking the most expensive one anyway. What a waste of time."
"It means whatever you choose will look pretty on her, so agonizing over it is the real waste."
The loyal Dalia smoothly covered for her superior's controversial remark.
Pretty much "beauty equals price," right? The man was just optimizing for efficiency.
Now that I thought about it, it made perfect sense. I wasn't offended at all.
"Excellent taste, indeed. Each pearl and diamond was hand-selected from the Mediterranean and crafted by hand. Wearing this dress is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity you'd wait forever for..."
The seasoned designer had already clocked Masera's impatience and rattled off the pitch quickly.
"Brigadier General, thanks for picking such a pretty dress. Where should we go for our honeymoon? There's a place I've always wanted to visit..."
Once the dress selection wrapped up, I sidled up to Masera with sparkling eyes.
"Not going."
His tone was so firm, he clearly meant it.
"Why? It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing! It'll be romantic! And it's vacation!"
"No need to attach meaning to it. I don't see the point."
"The origin of honeymoons is traveling to dangerous, unfamiliar places—discovering new sides to each other, relying on one another, and deepening your bond in the process..."
"If you want to bond with me, enlist."
"That's battlefield camaraderie."
He was like a dried squid—completely desiccated of any romance. It was too much.
I pouted and shot him a glare from below.
"I've never been abroad. I want to see the ocean. I have to see cute dolphins."
"You're whining just like Eugene."
"I can throw an adult-sized tantrum worse than any kid?"
Masera said nothing and strode ahead at a brisk pace.
I hurried after him, chattering away like a honeymoon-obsessed bird, but he seemed to let it all wash over him in a state of zen detachment.
"I'll attend your sister's wedding with you."
He said it like he was bestowing a great favor, then left.
Left standing there alone, I fumed and vowed revenge.
Later, I'd go on a group trip with everyone at the residence—except him. While we're shaking it up on a tourist bus having the time of our lives, let him cook and clean all by his lonesome.
The day of Helen's wedding arrived before I knew it.
Meeting the Queensguard people was unpleasant, but there was the perk of all the delicious food.
The ceremony was in the duke's mansion garden.
An outdoor wedding in this cold snap? Are they sane?
I shivered as I thought that.
"They picked a fine day. The weather's as warm as spring."
The Queensguard Count, dressed lightly, exchanged pleasantries.
He seemed to be in high spirits, so he probably hadn't heard about the servant incident yet.
Masera and I sat side by side at a table under a white parasol.
"Brigadier General, this is the trendy maple syrup. It's sweet and pairs perfectly with pancakes."
I drizzled syrup over a pancake and offered it to him.
"Here, say ahh. Gotta look like a cute couple."
I poked it out on the fork, but he leaned back, clearly disgusted.
"How long do I have to keep this up?"
"Relationships require effort your whole life. Whether you hate them or like them."
He finally took the bite when it looked like I wasn't backing down.
As he chewed and savored it, he said,
"Doesn't taste that great to me. I don't care much for new things."
"Grandpa taste buds? Here, have some honey then."
"What's that? Pancakes go with strawberry syrup."
"Oh, so kid taste buds."
We were actually debating syrups, but to the guests, we must have looked pretty affectionate.
Curious gazes began to gather our way.
No, something felt different about how they were looking at me compared to before. It was like the eyes reserved for a celebrity.
Then came the applause and cheers from the guests as the bride, Helen, made her entrance.
I stared at Helen's dress in shock, my eyes going wide.
"Huh?"
She was smiling, wearing the exact wedding dress I'd had fitted for myself.
