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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Angels on the Ceiling
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Masera, who had settled on the sofa and lain down, sensed a presence and opened his eyes.
The moment he spotted Cynthia peering down at him, he hurriedly covered his eyes with a cushion.
"You're not wearing that thing from earlier. You're wearing your own clothes."
Only then did Masera, confirming it was ordinary pajamas, relax and toss the cushion aside.
"What troublesome task are you going to ask of me now?"
Masera asked in a stern tone. He had indulged her every request up until now.
'She wouldn't possibly ask me to wear the uniform, would she?'
Cynthia smirked slightly, hands clasped behind her back, as she looked down at him lost in his own thoughts.
"Isn't it unfair that only Brigadier General Vicente keeps sleeping on the sofa? Sleep in the bed tonight."
"What kind of man makes his own wife sleep on the sofa?"
"There's no such wife."
He stared intently at Cynthia, who smiled brightly without missing a beat.
If she entered politics, she'd surely become a big shot, he thought to himself as he sat up.
"Can't sleep?"
"Look at the ceiling painting above the bed. I only just noticed it today."
He quietly gazed at the ceiling painting Cynthia was pointing to.
It depicted a grotesque being with an enormous number of eyes and multiple wings. Below it were the words, Fear not.
"They say this was the room used by the Media princess who married abroad. Did she never have nightmares after seeing that?"
At Cynthia's words, Masera smoothed his tousled hair and looked at her again.
"You're talking about the angel painting?"
"That thing that looks like a barnacle-encrusted bomber is an angel? The angels I know aren't like that... They're cuter and more adorable..."
"That's the true form of angels as described in doctrine. So, what do you want me to do about it?"
Cynthia cautiously sat beside him.
"You know it well! Impressive! Then tell me about the angels from doctrine."
To Masera's judgment, she seemed scared of the angel painting.
"You'd better stop whining and just lie down in bed."
At his insensitive tone, Cynthia's face grew increasingly sullen.
Masera, watching her, added,
"...I'll stay by your side until you fall asleep."
"Oh, that's a great idea."
Cynthia's face brightened again as she went to the bed and lay down.
In the end, he pulled a chair beside the bed and told her about the angels from his childhood memories of his mother's stories.
"Ah, so the angels have so many eyes to save more people? It's not scary after all."
Masera looked down at Cynthia chattering away as she lay in bed and thought,
'It feels like I've become a dad.'
Letting out a sigh, he asked her,
"By any chance, are you scared of sleeping alone?"
Cynthia squinted her eyes open and replied,
"It's not that I can't sleep alone. It's just more comfortable with someone there. Anyway, thank you. I always think how lucky I am to have someone by my side..."
Cynthia's drowsy, hazy eyes slowly closed, her breathing becoming even.
Gazing at her asleep, he gently touched her round forehead.
Then he flinched and pulled his hand back upon noticing the necklace around her neck.
That necklace was the reason and cause for treating her harshly.
"I'll do anything to save my daughter."
The image of the woman standing with her hair frozen in the icy wind, holding her daughter, was still vivid.
Even wandering battlefields for so long, he had never seen such a resolute and fanatical expression.
As far as he vaguely remembered, the daughter had been very ill, which was why they had to leave far away to find the child's father.
Before being dragged away for the crime of helping the royals escape, Masera's mother had hidden her son in the wardrobe and said,
"God has given you the vision of an angel, to look far across the world and watch over people. So please, do not live a life blinded by vengeance."
But for Masera, who had barely grown into an adult in this desolate world, keeping his mother's dying words was no easy task.
"When misfortune strikes, you'll want to find someone to blame. But remember this: it's no one's fault. Don't obsess over appearances. Become an adult who can see into the heart."
He gazed intently at the sleeping Cynthia.
The emotions that welled up every time he saw Cynthia were not easy to ignore.
But in time, they would fade into obscurity, just like the sorrows of his childhood.
Pity, concern—all of it.
'Then, I just need to eliminate all the elements that bother me.'
Masera's eyes, filled with killing intent, darkened chillingly.
Confirming Cynthia was asleep, he silently headed outside and gave orders to his subordinates guarding the door.
"...Around 8:25 PM, there was a tail. Search every inn in the area and find them."
He pointed a finger at his own head and added,
"Make sure they never cross my path again. Forever."
The next day, Cynthia, invited to the royal palace banquet, sat alone.
Masera was conversing with Media politicians, high-ranking officers, and royals.
Due to previous clashes of opinion, major investment funds for the development project had fallen through, so they needed new investors.
Cynthia also tried greeting nearby nobles to make her presence known. Fortunately, some spoke Lutemian.
"Though you've walked the path of decline due to the previous generation's mistakes, seeing you, Princess, strive to reclaim your lost glory makes me want to work harder myself. You offer such valuable lessons."
"Surviving as the last of the royals—truly fortunate."
Not particularly friendly.
Roughly, it meant that while marrying a war hero and making efforts was admirable, she still wasn't treated as an equal.
Unlike the Lutemian nobles who retained some respect for the Frost Queen, to the haughty Media nobles, the Variesa royals were merely objects of ridicule.
'They really don't think well of me.'
At that moment, a woman with lustrous black hair piled up elegantly and wearing a splendid dress approached Cynthia.
It was Archduchess Charlotte, who had sent a marriage proposal to Masera.
"Perhaps you don't speak Media? You didn't respond to my greeting."
Cynthia, lost in thought and missing the archduchess's greeting, turned to her.
'A confrontation with a power player after the male lead? But no fierce battle will ensue. After all, I'm supposed to not know Media.'
Cynthia, who often ran combat simulations in her head before sleep, felt a bit disappointed.
"I don't speak Media."
Cynthia replied in Lutemian.
Archduchess Charlotte, who didn't know Lutemian, stared at the innocently smiling Cynthia.
'Does she not know I sent a marriage proposal to the brigadier general?'
After the war, soldiers who contributed to victory enjoyed worldwide fame and rapid promotions, prompting the upper echelons to eagerly seek marriage ties.
Archduchess Charlotte was no different; her goal was marriage to the most renowned among them, Masera.
With talks of marriage to an old king on his third remarriage with thirty mistresses, she couldn't help feeling urgent.
'I refuse to live as that old king's woman.'
Unlike other officers who indulged in affairs despite upward marriages, Masera's private life was impeccably clean, almost obsessively so—that was another reason.
'Why did the brigadier general choose a fallen princess of all people? Could the rumors of him trying to revive monarchy be true?'
The archduchess eyed Cynthia amid her swirling doubts.
Realizing Cynthia didn't understand Media, people began openly scorning her.
"They don't look much like a couple, do they, Vicente Brigadier General and her?"
"It's just for show. How could good feelings develop? The brigadier general suffered immensely because of the royal family's war."
"Can't even speak Media, the language her husband is so tied to—how will they interact going forward?"
Their tones were exceedingly gentle, so without understanding the meaning, it sounded like compliments.
"Thank you for your kindness."
Cynthia even offered awkward thanks in Media.
At this, Archduchess Charlotte frowned slightly and turned to the chatterers.
"What rude behavior toward a royal of another nation?"
Suddenly, the innocent, clueless expression on Cynthia's face made her seem pitiful.
'No need to concern myself with this naive, foolish girl who doesn't even realize she's being mocked.'
Unaware that Cynthia understood everything, the archduchess sighed.
Never knowing what thoughts lurked in the heart of a being she deemed harmless.
'I remembered every face of those who badmouthed me.'
