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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Picked the Wrong Opponent
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After the banquet ended, Helen was immediately summoned by the Duchess and subjected to a scolding.
The Duchess's sisters, Lady Verache and Lady Hills, who were staying at the ducal residence, had been mocking Helen all along. They chimed in, acting spitefully.
"How could you steal your sister's dress? It's utterly unbecoming of royalty."
"To think she'd envy someone with just one even when she has ten, and try to take it."
Helen narrowed her eyes sharply and began refuting them point by point.
"I'm not yet the lady of the house, so I don't have the authority to spend a fortune on a dress. Besides, I'm not on bad enough terms with my sister to quarrel over something like that, nor am I so ill-mannered as to take someone else's belongings."
"So you're saying the Lecanosa Duke snatched your sister's dress and forced it on you? How utterly shameless."
That was exactly what had happened.
But it was obvious they wouldn't believe her even with evidence. They weren't on her side anyway.
At that moment, the Duke appeared and stepped in to mediate.
"There was a mistake at the dressmaker's. It seems the dress I commissioned got switched with hers. It's not her fault, so please don't scold her."
Helen bit her lip.
'Then you should have explained it in front of everyone...'
"You don't even remember the dress you wore? You received it the day before the feast—plenty of time to check."
Lady Hills pressed relentlessly.
'Right, that's why you kept your mouth shut and slipped away back there.'
Helen let out a sigh.
The nobles of Media were picky and sharp by nature.
And as collateral royals to boot, they never minced words out of consideration for face. Yet they insisted on excessive formality, making everything exhausting.
As Helen's silence dragged on, the Duke offered another explanation.
"She must have been too busy with wedding preparations. Shall we head back, ladies?"
Helen curtsied properly and followed after him.
"Duke, was the dress really switched?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll contact Merseyren and have them bring my dress."
The Duke halted abruptly. He turned back to her with a cold glare.
"Don't be tiresome. Are you suggesting we hold another wedding ceremony?"
"No, but it's the one made to fit me."
"I'll instruct the butler to handle it, so just wait."
Helen felt her anger rising once more.
"In the future, whenever there's trouble, are you going to frame me like this and slink away?"
"Frame you? What on earth are you talking about?"
"You did something out of awareness of Brigadier General Vicente, but pinned it on me to humiliate me."
The moment Helen finished speaking, the Duke seized her shoulder hard. His eyes flashed with menace.
"Watch your words. Who is aware of whom?"
But Helen was no ordinary woman.
"Then you're saying I was aware of my sister? I compete with others, sure—but I don't live steeped in inferiority. I can't for the life of me understand why you're so conscious of a war orphan. That man doesn't even see you as competition, let alone pay you any mind. Why act like the noble and commoner roles got swapped?"
"A fallen bloodline that wouldn't even merit princess treatment—what gives you the right to say such things?"
The Duke glared at her, his face twisted in peak fury.
"Do you demean your wife in front of everyone, when you're supposed to be so noble and accomplished?"
"Isn't boosting her husband's standing a wife's duty?"
"Aren't we married for mutual benefit? If you wanted a self-sacrificing wife to prop up your ego, you picked the wrong one."
"Did your bride training only teach you to defy and interrogate your husband?"
Helen fixed him with a cool gaze as he hurled baseless insults.
"Duke. Seems you're under some delusion, but you didn't choose me—I chose you. Because you offered the best terms."
"What?"
"It means there are plenty of men who would treat me like a princess. If you treat me like some inferior one more time, you'll regret it. We're dropping the formalities now, right? Let's do that."
Come to think of it, now that they were married and she was the Duchess, she didn't really need to put up with his rigidity anymore.
Helen turned away coldly.
Watching her retreating figure, the Duke scowled savagely.
"Hah, no different from those bold noblewomen on her maternal side."
Proud, feigning elegance while spitting venom, crushing a man's spirit while demanding her own deference—the shamelessness of it all.
Having such a woman as his wife firsthand, he finally understood why his father, the previous Duke, had died so young.
'If I don't want to die early too, I'll have to live like a man.'
It was a political marriage, a mere means to an end—no intentions of affection there.
The Duke clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned his back to her.
And with that, the rift between them was fully etched.
Masera and I entered the room and maintained a brief silence.
But it only amplified the awkwardness, so I spoke up first.
"We're sleeping in the same room, right?"
"That's how it worked out."
He said it like some unforeseen accident.
For some reason, it reminded me of how our own marriage had come about.
I rubbed my gloved hands together and gazed out the window.
"Just like the butler said, it's really coming down hard."
Snow was pouring from the darkened sky.
I'd thought the butler was some scheming antagonist for insisting we stay over, but no—it was just consideration in case we got snowed in.
I wrapped myself in a blanket and sat down by the fireplace, where the flames crackled merrily.
"Why sit on the floor? You said you were going to rest."
"This is rest for me. It's the warmest spot, too."
It was my favorite fire-gazing trance, but Masera must have thought I was uncomfortable around him.
He shrugged back into his neatly folded coat and said,
"I'll step out for a bit."
"No."
This was someone else's house, the room was too big, and even the portrait of that old man on the wall creeped me out. I didn't want to be alone.
I jumped to my feet and grabbed Masera's sleeve.
"I have some quick business outside. I'll be right back..."
"What is it? I want to come too."
"It's... something."
"I can't stand not knowing."
At this point, it was less about not wanting to be alone and more pure curiosity.
After a bit of tugging back and forth, my foot slipped, and I started toppling backward.
Masera swiftly grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him.
"Eek!"
Thankfully, my head didn't crack open—but the 'romcom top 10 cliché: accidental hug from a slip-up' stayed intact too.
I ended up flung straight into his embrace.
Masera let out a sharp breath and irritably pried me off.
To be precise, his expression was irritated, but his movements were careful.
Probably worried that if I fell again, he'd have to catch me and it'd repeat.
"Really..."
For some reason, he muttered in an angry tone before abruptly leaving the room.
Whatever he grumbled after that didn't really register—probably because it was my first hug with a handsome guy.
Left alone, I shrugged and sighed.
"Phew. Guess I'll go find that stingy cheese cat."
I was genuinely curious now. My pride demanded I figure it out.
I stepped right out into the hall and peered toward the end.
"Did he full-on sprint?"
Already gone? I blinked in the empty corridor.
Then footsteps approached from behind, followed by a gentle voice.
"Princess, what are you doing out here?"
The unfamiliar form of address made my shoulders twitch. I turned around.
Henry Lecanosa Duke was looking at me.
"Hello. I'm off to find the Brigadier General. He said he'd be right back, but it's taking a while, so I'm worried. Have you seen him?"
A whole minute—that was forever.
He smiled as he tilted his head at me.
"Who knows. Maybe he went off for a cigar."
"A cigar? I didn't realize—he never smokes around me."
"Worried he might be off meeting some secret lover?"
"No?"
He was clearly the type who couldn't handle multiple relationships.
The Duke continued in a joking tone.
"Can't blame you for worrying. He's got such striking looks—he attracts a lot of women's attention."
"You must have stolen plenty of hearts yourself, Duke. But whether they're smitten or not, I bet you'll spend your life thinking of just one person."
I laid on the flattery in return and glanced at the corridor window.
But when no reply came, I looked back at the Duke.
Did he not like my physiognomy reading? He had the perfect look of a sub-male protagonist doomed to failed unrequited love and dark obsession.
His expression as he looked at me was... odd.
