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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Chose the Wrong Opponent
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A breeze from somewhere caused Cynthia's silver hair to sway like the foam on waves.
The kiss between the princess and the war hero was beautiful, like a single painting. Even those who had started watching with just playful curiosity found themselves deeply moved by the young couple.
"What the hell were you thinking? You just unnecessarily upset the Grand Duchess."
Another noble rebuked the one who had urged the kiss.
They were the ones who had scolded Cynthia in the Media tongue earlier, retainers' children from the Grand Duke's household.
"No, but you could tell Brigadier General Vicente wasn't happy about it..."
"Where? What are you even seeing? You're showing your inexperience with romance."
Masera's face was its usual impassive mask, but the look in his eyes as he gazed down at Cynthia was anything but.
Another noble spoke up awkwardly.
"Honestly, the Brigadier General is handsome and all, but that princess... You can't help but like her. She's lovable, harmless like a flower blooming by the roadside. I felt a bit guilty earlier."
There was something about Cynthia that drew people in.
Meanwhile, far off, Grand Duchess Charlotte watched the two from her seat among the royals, her face expressionless as she set down her glass.
The last of the royal family, said to have hidden in the North after the monarchy's fall.
She must have faced endless contempt and scorn since reemerging in high society.
Yet for the protagonist of such a tragic tale, Cynthia was far too bright and untroubled.
'It's strange. Without some serious social savvy...'
Just then, someone addressed her as she lost herself in thought.
"Charlotte, I hear there's good news for you lately. You're to become Her Majesty's consort soon, they say."
At her relative's question, she reluctantly smiled and shook her head.
"Who knows. Mother only hinted at it, nothing certain."
"For a collateral royal low in the succession like you, and a second daughter at that, it's your one shot at the top."
"For your brother, the heir to the Grand Duchy, you must become queen consort."
Grand Duchess Charlotte clenched her fist, recalling her Grand Duchess mother's words.
With ambitions beyond the ordinary, she had no desire to become someone else's possession.
"The Grand Duchess excels in intelligence gathering and analysis. She'd shine in the intelligence agency."
All Media royals had a duty to national defense, so Grand Duchess Charlotte had served in the military as an intelligence officer.
There, she met Colonel Masera and, for the first time, had her true talents recognized.
From that day, she dreamed not of a fated destiny, but of her own path.
'I don't need the finest husband. I need a partner who stands equal and acknowledges me.'
The breeze carried the beautiful melody of the performance as it passed.
'That guy actually did it. A real adult kiss.'
My legs buckled from the sudden kiss, and I staggered before regaining my balance.
If Masera hadn't steadied me with his arm, I might have fainted like a gutted fish from the kiss alone.
"I, um..."
"What."
Masera brazenly asked, tracing his lips with a finger.
Why did he look so sensual? Was it the uniform? And were his ears red from the cold, or from the embarrassment of a public kiss?
My cheeks were burning too, probably strawberry-red by now.
'I can't look at his face.'
I bowed my head and gulped down my lukewarm black tea as I sat back down.
I could feel the gaze of Masera, who sat across from me with his chin propped up.
I deliberately avoided his eyes when...
The Queen's personal maid approached and spoke.
"Princess Cynthia, Her Majesty invites you to cream tea."
"Cream tea?"
"It's held between afternoon tea and dinner. Think of it as appetizers."
We'd had morning tea after breakfast, black tea now, and more later?
This nation was tea-mad, like Koreans chugging iced Americanos in winter.
After the maid gave the time and place and left, I glanced at Masera.
"Looks like I have to go to this cream tea between afternoon tea and dinner."
"I heard."
"Then I should prepare to meet Her Majesty."
I bolted from my seat faster than light.
'Heart, don't act up!'
I rubbed my lips furiously as I fled.
My first kiss ever had my inner self in chaos. The pounding heart and flushed face felt mortifying.
Left alone, Masera stared at Cynthia's fleeing figure.
"Ha."
He'd shown affection publicly as desired, yet it displeased her that much?
Suddenly, his furrowed brow relaxed.
"I've found a good method."
The chatterbox who never shut up had gone quiet for a full five minutes. He grinned wickedly, like a strategist who'd cracked victory.
Her flushed cheeks and flustered face satisfied him immensely; he wanted to see it again.
Some nobles approached to speak, but he was lost in recollection and didn't respond.
Time passed, and cream tea arrived.
Attendees included high nobles invited by the Queen, royals, and Grand Duchess Charlotte.
'That naive girl better not mess up with Her Majesty...'
Grand Duchess Charlotte alternated glances between Cynthia's beaming smile and the Queen's gentle one.
The Queen seemed broad-minded at first glance, but crossing her meant paying dearly.
Her true face was an iron-blooded monarch who could raze a nation with a gesture.
"Cynthia being around my daughter's age makes her feel approachable. The Variesa dynasty are distant kin of mine too. Our houses intermarried ages ago."
"Yes. By lineage, two thousand years ago, descendants of the Great Empire scattered to found nations. Her Majesty and I are... eighth cousins by marriage, I think."
Royal houses were mostly blood-related.
As Cynthia chatted with the Queen on their faint blood ties, a count spoke up.
"I've heard of your luck, Princess. And reading minds? Most intriguing. I'd love to see it in action."
Like the old Variesa royals, implying she was a fraud peddling tall tales.
"Just coincidence that got exaggerated..."
Surprisingly, Cynthia denied her ability, then added with innocent laughter.
"Something like that doesn't exist, right? Everyone must be so pure-hearted. The Frost Queen myth? Do you like legends and superstitions too, Count?"
"Ah, no... I..."
"Next time we meet, I'll gift you a feng shui item said to bring money. Picked up a few at a souvenir shop. Stick it on your door for wealth luck? Haha."
The count blinked in confusion at her laughter.
Her words implied 'believing superstitions? How naive,' but her guileless face prevented anger.
"Ahahaha."
The observing Queen burst into muffled laughter.
Everyone followed suit, even those not fluent in Lutemian.
"How's your son's leg? He got hurt, right?"
Suddenly, Cynthia's question cut the laughter short.
Clink—
The count dropped his teaspoon, face paling.
"How did you..."
His son's recent riding accident and broken leg was secret. Equestrian skill was basic etiquette; it'd only invite mockery.
"Was it a secret? Sorry, I didn't know."
Cynthia looked apologetic.
But the count couldn't shake the sense those red eyes pierced his soul.
"Really, mind-reading..."
"I said it doesn't exist."
Denials often seem like cover-ups.
The count averted his eyes, unable to meet hers.
'That princess has something. No wonder the rumors!'
Cynthia calmly ate a scone, ignoring his terror.
'Overheard a servant mentioning it on the way.'
Thinking him superstitious, she'd planned to give him a souvenir cat figurine for recovery.
