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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Shopping and Simmering Prejudices
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Cynthia went to the shopping district, bought various necessities, then headed to a cafe with Dalia for winter strawberry parfaits. She also bought street waffles, donuts, crepes, and butter corn to eat along the way.
"Still got a ways to go, Dalia. Don't disappoint me."
"Miss, please remember that leaving food behind is a sin."
Dalia, her hands full of snacks, was a total big eater. Cynthia felt like she'd found her soulmate in feasting.
'...But she didn't seem to care at all.'
Cynthia glanced back at the excessively large escort detail trailing them and recalled Masera del Vicente's impassive expression.
'What an enigmatic guy.'
She gripped the handle of her parasol tightly and let out a sigh.
Before leaving the official residence earlier, she'd invited Masera to join her one more time, but he'd turned her down flat.
When she'd called it a date invitation, he'd pulled the most stone-faced look imaginable.
"Dalia, is the Brigadier General always that shy and gruff?"
"Yes."
Dalia nodded, having already demolished her corn.
"Probably never had a girlfriend, huh?"
In romance fantasies, male leads were canonically single-minded, so it wasn't even worth asking. Still, curiosity about his past got the better of her.
Cynthia only knew that Masera was a war orphan.
"No time for that."
"Makes sense. Must've been swamped with all those deployments."
"That too, but he's always lived without a moment's leisure."
Dalia thought back to the old Masera.
Eyes parched of emotion, a wrecked aura hanging about him, a calm yet ruthless demeanor—but surprisingly loyal at heart.
He never abandoned his men on the battlefield. And after the war, he'd taken in veterans shunned by society.
Dalia's pumpkin-hued eyes turned toward Cynthia, who was smiling under her parasol.
'Maybe... that bright, kind princess...'
...could fill the Brigadier General's dark shadow with light.
While Cynthia and Dalia were out shopping, a designer from Meriseiren visited the official residence to apologize.
"I'm truly sorry. We had a new employee start that day, and they vanished midway with the dress..."
"Got it. Make it again."
Masera nodded, taking the designer's near-robbery into account.
The designer clenched his fists tight.
"You saved my life when bandits nearly had me, Brigadier General. I swear, I'll craft a timeless masterpiece the likes of which has never been seen."
"Like I said then, rough's fine."
Masera pulled a paper from his pocket, signed it, and handed it over.
"No budget limit this time."
His usual stern face somehow brimmed with resolve.
The designer blinked wide-eyed, swallowing his retort of 'What's "rough" about that?'
Instead, he vowed to create a dress that made the Duchess's look like child's play.
After the designer departed with renewed determination, Eugene approached Masera, who was sipping tea alone in the garden.
"Uncle, I don't like White-Hair Sis."
Eugene had diligently carried out his campaign to oust Cynthia.
But offering frogs and bugs only earned thanks that pricked his conscience. Stuffing snowballs in her clothes prompted weird songs like "Wanna build a snowman with me?" followed by her chasing him all day.
Every master plan had failed. Eugene decided to go straight to Masera.
Cynthia wasn't a normal opponent.
"Why?"
Masera set down his teacup and asked.
Eugene sat across from him, face grave.
"'Cause she's a white-haired villain. Don't marry her. I'll marry instead and take the torment."
Masera shook his head gravely to match.
"Have to. I proposed first."
"Uncle said he loved her first?"
Eugene—who equated marriage with love—gawked in shock. He'd assumed the bad princess from the enemy nation was tormenting his uncle into it.
Deep down, Eugene feared being discarded post-wedding. The conquering princess might order, "Toss out that brat."
It stemmed from the servants, officers, and tutor who harbored grudges against royals.
"Does she kiss and torment you too?"
Masera flinched, teacup in hand.
"Really not coming? It's actually a date..."
Masera recalled Cynthia's flushed cheeks and innocent smile.
Plenty of women pursued him as a rule, but this felt different.
He chalked that strange sensation from their first meeting up to "displeasure."
Reading Masera's face, Eugene nodded with conviction.
"Phew, evil villain. Can't beat her with my power now, though. When I grow up, I'll make her bawl."
"I already made her cry."
Eugene, mid-cookie, froze in shock again.
"So she's avenging on me instead?"
"No, you little villain."
Cynthia's voice cut in abruptly.
Eugene yelped and ducked behind Masera.
Masera tilted his teacup and crossed his legs.
"So, spend the money freely?"
At his sardonic tone, Cynthia lifted her chin triumphantly.
"You bet."
She proudly proffered her receipt listing purchases.
Far from the expected clothes, shoes, or jewels...
Aquarium ornaments, sweater yarn, dog plushies—nothing useful. Hammers and saws? What for?
She hadn't skimped, either.
"Aquarium stuff? No fish."
"To decorate the frog house for hibernation."
Eugene's eyes lit with curiosity before he pouted and looked away.
Masera jabbed at the yarn entry, face screaming unbearable.
"This for knitting a sweater? FYI, count me out."
He pictured her foisting some grotesque knit on him.
"Garden cat had kittens. Making sweaters for them against the cold."
"Good then. Hammers and saws are suspicious, though."
"Building a warm house for the cat family."
Just as Masera sensed he'd end up building it himself, Cynthia fetched a gift box from a servant and offered it.
Bribes for the officers.
"Macarons from that famous dessert shop. Huge line—barely snagged 'em. Bought ingredients to serve the officers at dinner too."
Masera regarded her wordlessly.
She was trying, in her way. But would it pay off?
"Eugene, have one. Let's decorate the frog house later."
Cynthia offered a macaron with a bright smile.
Eugene reached instinctively—then jerked back.
His tutor Hayden's words resurfaced.
The books Hayden showed depicted white-haired monsters devouring humans—plenty to terrify a child.
'If they find out my mom had white hair, everyone'll hate me too, right?'
Eugene's mother had been Esat.
He shunned Cynthia out of awareness of others, yet gravitated to her unbidden. She reminded him of his late mother.
Overwhelmed by confusion, Eugene bolted, face ashen.
"Eugene, hi! You've grown so much?"
A silver-white-haired officer greeted the moping boy warmly as he trudged through the garden.
An Esat officer who'd fled to the Federation before imperial invasion razed his homeland.
The Federation—including the Lutemia Republic—had absorbed masses of war refugees and Esat people.
Eugene's tutor Hayden was another exile—but one who despised Esat.
"Don't act friendly with me! White-haired monster!"
Eugene balled his fists and shouted.
Seeing the officer's awkward expression, unease rippled in Eugene's green eyes.
He felt guilty for it, but getting booted wasn't an option.
"...Monster?"
Cynthia—who'd chased after his pale face in worry—witnessed the scene.
