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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner
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Meanwhile, Cynthia—who had no idea that her very appearance embodied nobility and divinity itself—was suffering alone.
"Forget the cold—it's stinging! My eyes hurt! I feel like an ant getting attacked through a magnifying glass!"
Unfortunately, sunlight was her weakness.
Fortunately, it was a gentle light, not enough to cause burns.
The light shining on Cynthia trailed along the wedding path before soon reaching Masera, who stood opposite her in splendid ceremonial garb.
Masera gazed with an expressionless face at the bride, who seemed to glow with her own light.
To him, Cynthia was nothing more than the existence that had cast a dark shadow over his life.
'If the day ever comes when a shadow falls on that bright, innocent face because of me.'
Would seeing her utterly ruined bring him relief... or lingering unease?
Beyond his dark thoughts, thick clouds parted, draping sunlight like curtains in scattered spots.
"I was sitting there with nothing but blessings in my heart, you know?"
"While everyone else was laughing, I was the only one who saw the true value of that dress!"
Fearing the guests might think they'd incurred divine wrath with impure motives, people hurriedly shifted to seats bathed in sunlight.
Cynthia's shoes sparkled like glass slippers as she walked the wedding path, which stretched like a road of light.
"The Princess must be the reincarnation of the Frost Queen!"
"A Princess blessed by the gods! I believe! Let me win the lottery!"
"The Princess is luck incarnate! Grant me a lover!"
The kitchen servants shouted loudly to foster a sacred atmosphere, and soon others joined in, voicing their wishes.
The designer from Meriseiren—the one behind the dress—clapped with a face full of emotion.
He was truly fortunate. If the sky had stayed overcast, his life's masterpiece or not, the ceremony would've ended with her in nothing but a plain gown.
At the end of the wedding path stood Masera, his expression stern as he extended a hand to Cynthia.
"Ah."
He then squinted shut his eyes against the light reflecting off the jeweled bouquet.
Cynthia approached him with a smile.
'This was your idea. Not my fault. This thing weighs a ton.'
Masera, mindful of the surrounding stares, quickly donned a faint smile.
'I might go blind. Shouldn't have listened to that designer about how the jeweled bouquet highlights the dress.'
Unlike the pair's inner turmoil, to the guests, it looked like the groom had closed his eyes in awe of the bride's beauty.
Moreover, Cynthia's dress and jewels created a halo effect spreading behind them both.
"The goddess herself is blessing their union."
The Lecanosa matriarch smiled warmly. Her sisters, Mrs. Hills and Mrs. Verache, did the same.
Helen—Cynthia's ostensible older sister—kept her smile in place as well.
'Just a fake from a maid's background, and yet they all buy her as a princess and shower her with praise. Pathetic lot.'
"Our wedding was sunny from start to finish too."
The matriarch nodded at Helen's words.
"Yes, you and your husband were blessed as well."
No one breathed a word about the blizzard that had hit right after their ceremony.
Meanwhile, Henry Lecanosa Duke watched Cynthia and Masera with an odd glint in his eye.
'How do they always manage to stir up a fuss.'
True royalty though she was, Helen drew little public notice beyond her 'Variesa Royal Family' status.
As the saying went: get famous enough, and folks will applaud you dropping your pants in the street. Fame brought wealth and power in its wake—which was why the inept Variesa royals had clung to the throne for so long.
The duke—who'd wed Helen chasing fame and succession—let out a sigh.
From a showbiz angle, Cynthia was tailor-made for the spotlight.
Not just her striking looks, but that signature bright smile, her unpretentious and down-to-earth vibe, and all the extraordinary happenings around her.
Everyone loved her.
Masera del Vicente Brigadier General had that same buzz factor. His handsome features and legendary exploits had spun even his stigmatized origins into heroic lore.
That was why Media's collateral royal, Grand Duchess Charlotte Yorkshire, had sent him a proposal.
The attending Grand Duchess Charlotte sat ramrod straight, her expression aloof.
'I wondered just how grand the choice was that turned down my offer.'
She'd taken quite the hit to her pride when the commoner Masera rejected her. Her plan had been to boost her royal standing with a war hero husband.
"Now, the groom and bride shall share the kiss of vows."
The Supreme Commander—presiding over the ceremony—spoke in a voice tinged with excitement.
As Masera drew near and lifted her veil, Cynthia whispered,
"Real kiss? Or fake it? Or..."
"Shut your mouth."
Masera sighed faintly at what was meant as "close your eyes," his mind glitching.
They couldn't fool all these guests. Especially not with reporters present.
'Ah, shutting my mouth means we're faking it!'
Figuring as much, Cynthia clamped her lips tight.
"Close your eyes."
At Masera's low murmur, Cynthia softly lowered her lids.
'But how do you fake it?'
Cynthia—who'd never kissed anyone, past life included—wondered briefly before a scent like dawnwood drew near. Warm softness brushed the corner of her mouth.
Just as she marveled that even this iron-willed man had a tender spot, she realized it was his lip—and flinched, shoulders hunching in surprise.
'Not quite not-doing-it, but not full-on either... some advanced technique?'
Lips parted swiftly amid a torrent of applause, leaving Cynthia faintly dazed.
All her focus was on the firm arm wrapped around her waist.
Then Masera's eyes slowly opened.
From this nose-tip-close distance, his irises looked even more enigmatic—like a multicolored sea shimmering with inner light if you stared.
"Pretty."
The unwitting whisper slipped from Cynthia's lips. He startled, shoving her away in haste.
'But his actions aren't...'
Muttering inwardly, Cynthia spun naturally with the push, facing the officiant.
And the highly anticipated jeweled bouquet toss? Omitted for safety reasons.
By the time the ceremony ended, the weather had cleared to perfect sunshine, as if the gloom had never been.
I could feel the stares from onlookers shifting in a strange way.
What was it... like they'd personally witnessed a supernatural being who could levitate or shrink the earth with a step.
"Lady Cynthia, shall we head to change into your reception gown?"
En route to my room to don a light pink dress with cape for the banquet hall, Karos Queensguard approached.
"As your brother, I'll escort you all the way."
"Sure."
I nodded acceptance for the moment.
At Karos's glance urging her away, Dalia offered a light curtsy and withdrew.
As he escorted me, he lowered his voice.
"It must be tough accepting marriage to another man right off. Still, seeing you give it your all... I'm grateful, but sorry too."
"My all?"
"Trying to win that man's heart."
Karos clasped my hand, smiling—as if rewarding someone slaving away for him.
Would the real Cynthia have been thrilled by that?
"I did try. But it wasn't hard at all?"
I looked up at him blankly before adding,
"And it's not just me—the Brigadier General's trying too. Relationships take effort from both sides. Not one-sided devotion you can take for granted and exploit."
At my pointed shot, Karos went quiet a beat before replying.
"Looks like his treating you decent swayed you—enough to delude yourself he's sincere?"
His voice dripped malice as he pressed on.
"Word is, once he gets what he wants, he'll divorce you and remarry Media's Grand Duchess."
Major Isaac Rodriguez rounded the corridor corner, spotted Karos and Cynthia, and halted.
He ended up overhearing their talk by accident.
"...You're nothing but a disposable tool once you're used up. To the Brigadier. To Father too."
Not the sort of thing a brother says to his sister.
Major Rodriguez had long felt an odd kinship with Cynthia. Not merely their similar looks.
Forcing yourself to be "useful" just to survive in a world with no place for you.
He knew she was just like him.
