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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: The Doomed Male Lead Picked the Wrong Opponent
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* * *
Masera, who had been feeding treats to the Queen's cat, looked up at the dark sky and realized that quite some time had passed.
"Meow."
The Queen's cat was like a dog, affectionate toward people.
He had recently heard from Cynthia about something called a "dog-cat," a rare breed that required three generations of good deeds to even glimpse. This cat seemed to be the one she had mentioned.
"When is she coming? I wanted to show her the dog-cat."
At his unwitting mutter, Masera clapped a hand over his mouth and glanced around.
'Am I seriously thinking like that? Me?'
He returned to his room afterward, but Cynthia still hadn't come back even after dinner time.
'Did she say something careless and get locked up?'
He had heard a story about the Queen locking her poker-winning, cocky son-in-law in the basement for two days.
Whether it was just high-society royal mischief or serious, he couldn't tell—but an incident like that during their honeymoon would be a problem.
Just as anxiety began to creep in and he was about to go fetch her, the door clicked open.
"You've been in the room, huh?"
Cynthia tossed the perfunctory remark as she entered, grabbing her pajamas and a board game.
Masera watched in bewilderment, wondering when she'd even brought the board game, before asking.
"What's with the board game all of a sudden?"
"It's a strategy game about conquering the world."
"You want to play it now?"
Cynthia shook her head.
"The Queen said she loves board games, so I prepared it just in case. And tonight, I'm sleeping somewhere else."
"What do you mean by that?"
Not content with keeping distance like strangers after that kiss earlier, now she was saying she'd sleep elsewhere.
A flame ignited in his chest. Masera grabbed her arm as she tried to leave the room and turned her around.
"Now that you've actually touched me, you're disgusted and avoiding me? All those actions before were just pretense, then."
"Huh? Pretense?"
Cynthia's lips pursed tightly.
Masera realized for the first time that her usually docile, drooping eyes could sharpen like that.
"You're the one who scratches like a feral civet even when I'm nice to you..."
She had always magnanimously understood it as, 'Well, what can you do about innate temperament?' like some sage.
"It's not that being around you makes me uncomfortable! The Queen invited me to sleep with her tonight?"
In truth, after the kiss, sharing a room did feel oddly awkward to her.
By chance, the Queen had greatly enjoyed her conversation with Cynthia and, reminded of her daughter living abroad whom she rarely saw, suggested they sleep together in her room if she was okay with it.
"...Why would the Queen make an invitation like that?"
To Masera, the situation made no sense whatsoever. Just how likable was she?
"We talked for about five hours, and we're supposed to chat more over midnight snacks in her room. Don't you get that soulmate vibe where you dive deeper into the same stories?"
'Just how chatty is she?'
Cynthia approached the dumbfounded Masera and gave him a cheeky glare.
"Ugh, saying you don't like it with your mouth but acting all separation-anxious."
"When did I ever..."
"And it's not pretense. Everything was because I wanted Brigadier General Vicente to like me."
Because that was the key to survival.
Unaware of what powerful message she had conveyed to him, Cynthia breezed out of the room.
"Wanted me to like her?"
Left alone, Masera muttered in a daze.
Meanwhile, Cynthia paused on her way to the Queen's room, glanced back, and tilted her head.
A regretful male lead abandoned by his wife on their honeymoon? Shouldn't it usually be the other way around?
"Am I the regretful heroine or something?"
Puzzled, Cynthia resumed her lighthearted steps down the corridor.
* * *
The next morning, Cynthia returned with her face glowing radiantly.
Despite ditching her husband, she clearly showed signs of having eaten and played well.
"We did face packs before bed—it felt amazing... Royal care really is on another level. The maids we gossiped with were hilarious too."
Moreover, Cynthia had reverted to her old chatty self in just one day.
In contrast, Masera, who hadn't slept properly, looked a bit haggard.
"Brigadier General Masera del Vicente, Her Majesty the Queen summons you."
At the maid's words, Masera checked his appearance and thought.
'It's not an order to stay longer or leave the princess behind, is it?'
The Queen was the greedy type when it came to people.
She kept famous circus troupes, theater groups, and opera singers on royal retainer to summon them whenever she pleased.
Could she want Cynthia as an exclusive court jester or something?
The outdoor tea room where the Queen had summoned Masera held only maids and knights besides them. It seemed a conversation requiring security was in order.
The Queen, her face as glossy as Cynthia's, spoke first.
"This is the first time we've spoken alone like this since the war's end. I was looking forward to reuniting with you, and now you bring good news—I'm delighted."
The Queen recalled Masera standing before her as a fifteen-year-old boy soldier. Even now, as a fine man, he had the same empty yet beautiful eyes.
He had served as a Federation sniper, successfully executing numerous operations.
She cherished and trusted him, granting him the title of honorary knight and the official accolade of war hero.
"Thank you."
For a man who rose from the bottom, Masera didn't particularly boast. It was closer to indifference.
With the preamble done, the Queen asked.
"Is your answer to my proposal to join Media still the same as back then? Lutemia Republic isn't your homeland, after all."
"The country of my birth has already vanished into history. Lutemia is my father's hometown, so it's as good as my homeland."
At Masera's reply, the Queen smiled gracefully.
"Why did you marry a fallen princess? From one perspective, the Variesa royals ruined your life."
Masera gazed calmly into her jade eyes, as if gauging his liege's intent.
"There are nobles plotting a royal revival. It's to thwart their ambitions."
"Is that all?"
The Queen's voice gradually cooled.
The question implied whether he was trying to ruin someone else's life out of revenge.
He knew well that lies didn't work in front of her.
"No malice. Just... no affection either."
Pleased by the candid answer, she smiled once more.
"How much do you know about your wife?"
Masera, who had been staring at the floral teacup before him, looked up.
"Most of the important facts."
The Queen smiled elegantly and set down her teaspoon.
"You've obtained a gem you must never lose in your lifetime. The smart and kind ones are rare."
He couldn't deny it outright, so he answered with silence.
The Queen lowered her eyes languidly and lifted her teacup.
"'A soldier's spouse is like an internal chief of staff.' It's not just empty words—keep it in mind."
"Of course. My views on marriage are quite firm."
Watching his expression keenly, the Queen looked somehow relieved.
"Embers of the past are futile. Cherish your current bond, and live well as husband and wife. I'm greedy for people, after all."
As the Queen dropped a sugar cube into his black tea, she added.
"If you get along well with the princess, I'll give you a gift."
"I'm not a child."
"Says the kid whose eyes lit up for chocolate. In my eyes, you're still that fifteen-year-old greenhorn."
Had Masera shown any negativity toward Cynthia, she would have told him to leave her in Media. The woman was too precious to ruin over something that wasn't her fault.
But in his talk of Cynthia, that faint hatred from the past was absent.
Having spotted even a sliver of positivity, she smiled contentedly.
'To keep her bound for life as an outlet for anger, Brigadier General Vicente picked the wrong opponent.'
