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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Stuck on the Ferris Wheel
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“Huh.”
A familiar ceiling.
I blinked as I gazed up at the cruise ship’s ceiling.
The lingering emotions from the dream of my past life, which had been so intense, were finally fading away.
I turned my head and saw Masera del Vicente’s artistic profile, eyes closed, right there up close.
His nose is ridiculously pretty.
Lost in that thought, I suddenly realized my head was resting on his shoulder and bolted upright.
At the same moment, Masera’s eyes fluttered open. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.
“Did I... do something yesterday...?”
I asked cautiously.
I barely remembered anything after the fireworks sent me into a panic—I’d just burrowed under the blankets and curled up.
“Next time, if there’s something scary, tell me ahead of time.”
He stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes as he spoke.
There’s no way he’d know about the fireworks on the cruise ship! Still, it seemed like I’d done something that required his care.
“Like gunshots or explosions... alarms...”
“And yet you went and married a soldier. I’ll keep it in mind.”
He was still lying there, staring at the ceiling. His usually impeccably groomed platinum hair was a mess.
“Go wash up and get changed first.”
His tone was even stiffer than usual.
On the train, he’d always be up at the crack of dawn, sitting there neat and tidy. Was this because of me?
“Got it.”
As I got up from the bed, I felt strangely exposed and glanced down—my pajama buttons were undone. I yelped in surprise.
“Wasn’t me.”
His weary voice came from behind me as I turned away.
“I know.”
There was no way something like a one-night prologue scene could happen between us.
“You stayed by my side all night? Thank you.”
I sat back down to button up and expressed my gratitude to Masera, but he didn’t say a word.
Every time I flashed back to the moment I gave up on life, it was this man—who didn’t even like me—who held me close. Ironically enough.
He’s actually a warm-hearted guy.
Warm footbath mat. Passed the paperwork on the first try.
While Cynthia straightened her disheveled clothes and headed to the bathroom, Masera remained lying on the bed, lost in thought.
Declan Captain’s agitated voice echoed in his mind—the man who had opposed the marriage to the bitter end and hadn’t even attended.
Masera covered his eyes with the back of his hand and let out a sigh.
Before meeting Cynthia, he’d planned to be ruthless and wound her deeply.
But when she flashed that innocent, childlike smile, everything he’d planned crumbled.
His vow to shatter the girl who’d always lived brightly only stirred guilt within him.
More than anything, the fearful expression she made was one only someone who’d already been broken could wear.
The moment he recalled his subordinate—who always smiled brightly but ultimately couldn’t overcome his trauma and took his own life—Masera’s eyes snapped wide open.
“Ha.”
Masera’s pupils trembled faintly.
His subordinate’s suicide had been the trigger for him to take in and help those struggling with war’s aftermath.
And yet, the person he should hate most was evoking pity in him.
Ever since meeting Cynthia, he’d been swept up in uncharacteristic emotions.
Just get through this.
Once the honeymoon was over, they wouldn’t have to see each other like this outside of official events.
They’d keep their distance, and when the time came, go their separate ways.
So, she’ll never become precious.
Beneath the hand covering his face, the corners of Masera’s mouth twisted faintly.
After a series of mishaps, we finally arrived at the Media palace as honored state guests.
The people who saw Masera’s sleep-deprived face grinned and teased that he must be in the honeymoon glow.
“We welcome the Lutemia Republic’s war hero and the Variesa princess. We hope you enjoy your time in Media.”
We even had an audience with Media’s queen—a beautiful, seductive beauty with an intellectual air, fluent in six languages, including Lutemian.
Masera was assigned a luxurious suite where state guests stayed, but he sighed upon seeing the single bed. He glanced at the sofa that would become his bed and spoke.
“So, what’s the travel plan? I heard you made a detailed schedule.”
“Of course I did. Here.”
He peered at the itinerary I handed him, then asked with a baffled expression.
“...Is this what you call a plan?”
“It can’t get any more perfect.”
Day 1: Arrive at palace. Palace tour (*buy queen’s 20th anniversary souvenir). Go to famous river (name escapes me).
Day 2: Highest observation deck. Night view from top restaurant Ferris wheel.
Day 3: Cool temple. Cathedral. Pilgrimage path.
“Day 2 is an aerial battle, and Day 3 is a holy pilgrimage?”
“We’ll just adjust on the fly.”
I was an impromptu Plan-P person.
He flipped to another page and pointed with his finger.
“You only put real effort into the food research.”
- Blaine Street 73, Le Seline House. Royal selection local cuisine hotspot. 100-year history, run for generations by the chef Le Seline family. Opens 3 PM, no breaks until midnight. Expect lines at dinner.
- Descent Street 5, Footman My Fair Maid. Traditional beer haven. Said to be opened by a Francia footman who retired from a Media noble house.
…
…
And so on—a curated list of over twenty eateries.
“Travel’s all about the food that sticks with you, right?”
Masera let out a sigh as he stared at me—and my brazen attitude—with utter disbelief.
“Let’s start with the palace gardens.”
“It’s raining.”
True to the land where it rained year-round with few clear days.
“It’s fine. I’m a weather fairy.”
I strutted confidently to the gardens, but the rain showed no signs of letting up.
“It’ll stop once we’re outside, right?”
Even as we toured the beautiful gardens and headed to that famous river (name still forgotten), the rain kept pouring.
Yep, this place’s rain is strong enough to beat my luck.
Umbrella in place of a parasol, I looked up at the sky.
“Rain makes it romantic. Nice, huh?”
“Yes.”
Masera gave a reluctant reply as he eyed the river turned to muddy sludge by the downpour.
I’d wanted to take a tourist boat, but no dice. He’d never row, so it’d end up being me anyway.
After a quick look at the now-yellowish muddy river, we headed to the café I’d diligently scouted.
“Uh... congrats, Latte.”
I turned to Masera with an embarrassed face. The guy who’d boasted he’d handle this trip.
Something felt doomed.
But the book said the world not going as planned is what makes it fun. As a flexible thinker, I decided to pull Day 2 forward.
Highest observation deck, go!
“...”
I dragged Masera there and fell silent for a moment.
“It rains every day. So when the hell do they open...?”
In the end, we accomplished nothing, had dinner at one of my pre-scouted spots, and right then the rain stopped.
“See? Weather fairy confirmed. The earlier hiccups were just paving the way for something better.”
“Lucky princess, maybe the rain just reached its stopping point.”
I shot a glare at his sarcasm, then headed to the Ferris wheel for the night views.
I pretended not to hear his quip about having nothing left for tomorrow if I burned through the schedule. Tomorrow’s me would figure it out.
Fortunately, the Ferris wheel was running normally.
In the rattling cabin, I kept gasping in awe at the nightscape.
The cloudless sky brimmed with a bright moon and stars, blending with the city lights into something cosmic.
I gushed to him across from me.
“The night sky’s insanely clear. They say fog usually ruins the views, so that rain earlier must’ve been for this. Total luck, right? They say speaking it makes it real.”
“I see.”
The guy with zero reactions was lost in thought, gazing outside.
“Oh yeah, what happens if it stops suddenly?”
“We live here.”
He answered with the utmost nonchalance.
Just as we reached the top, the Ferris wheel jolted... and stopped dead.
“...Wait, really?”
The lights went out too, and it showed zero signs of moving.
My anxious face twisted as I scrambled to the seat beside him. Clinging like a whimpering puppy and clutching his sleeve, I watched his brow furrow slightly.
“Don’t waste that ‘speaking-makes-it-real’ luck of yours on crap like this.”
Not my fault!
...But isn’t this the cliché where the male and female leads get trapped in a confined space and bare their hearts?
