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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: The Broken Male Lead Chose the Wrong Opponent
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"You really have to read that novel I told you about."
"Sis, reality is already sad and brutal enough. Do I have to read something like that in fiction too?"
My sister from my past life and I had completely different tastes.
Our styles in clothes, food—everything clashed.
Sis loved the arrogant, regretful male leads that got endless hate comments like 'Swap out the ML!' while I preferred sweet, straightforward heroes. Even our taste in male leads was polar opposites.
"The heroine marries this guy who hates royalty, but it turns out she's a fake princess? After getting caught, she tries to run away... Anyway, hate-love, escape, imprisonment vibes!"
Her sales pitch was full of passion, but her explanation skills fell short. In short:
The male lead imprisons the heroine after discovering she's a fake princess, forces her to keep pretending, and heaps on the wounds and humiliations.
Unable to endure it, the heroine takes her own life, and the male lead realizes too late that he loved her, following her into despair in this hopeless, tragic regret story.
"I only want to read happy stuff. You never know—you might reincarnate into the novel or manga you read if you die. My bro's probably already born in the Leaf Village training as a ninja. Or maybe he's a pirate."
"How about this? A war story where you're kidnapped by a mad duke!"
I pushed back against Sis's attempt to corrupt me with grimoires by shoving a healing ray-of-sunshine romance bible at her.
"No—a gag story where the butler male lead comes and does all the housework!"
"Unless he's doing housework while keeping you imprisoned, don't even try!"
We were sisters with opposite personalities, but our relationship wasn't bad. We were each other's last remaining family, our only pillar of support.
"You know, you could turn any world into a romance."
Sis always said I'd survive even if stranded on a deserted island.
"Plus, you're blessed with luck."
Who could've known that luck would be called the ability to steal others' fortune to survive?
Weeeeeng—
One day, collapsing building debris from an air raid buried us. More precisely, it buried Sis after she shoved me out of the way.
"Hang on, I'll get you out!"
But there was no way to free her from under that massive concrete slab.
Sis reached out through a small gap. I grabbed her hand.
"It's cramped, but rent-free living isn't so bad. You won't manage alone, so go get some people to help."
Sis stayed calm, even cracking jokes.
I forced a bright smile.
"Got it. Wait for me."
I turned and ran. Her voice called from behind.
"Hey! If you survive this stroke of luck again, swear on the Styx River you'll read it! I read that [Cute Sunshine Lady Wins Everything] you recommended! It was seriously lame!"
"Fine, what's the title?!"
The moment I looked back, an explosion roared, and crimson flames erupted.
Kwaaang—!
Sis's spot was already engulfed in fire.
In the end, I couldn't save anyone.
I still don't know the novel she was talking about.
...But maybe because there are so many similar stories. Her description kinda sounds like my current situation?
I murmured to myself alone as I awoke from what felt like a memory or a dream deep in my subconscious.
"Did I pass out?"
It was the familiar ceiling of the annex.
Turning my head, still feeling the warmth of Sis's hand in mine, I saw a small hand gripping mine.
Eugene had fallen asleep with his head on the bedsheet, holding my hand.
Thank goodness he didn't seem hurt.
On the other hand, my hand and arm up to the forearm were wrapped in bandages. Probably sliced by flying debris.
Suddenly, an overwhelming surge of emotion drowned out the pain.
"I... I can save someone too..."
My luck had protected the child, not me.
I pressed my tear-streaked eyes with my bandaged hand and bowed my head.
A dimly lit underground interrogation room.
A place infamous for ensuring no one left unscathed.
"Eugene's birth mother is an Esat. Despite being subject to forced internment, she escaped with help from her Media husband."
Emil, the subject under interrogation, spoke up.
With some pride left, he never admitted to being a servant.
And he had no intention of revealing Eugene's parents' names.
In truth, Eugene's father was a great noble of Media with considerable influence.
If it came out that he'd sold out the hidden couple for money, he wouldn't survive.
'They might throw me in that hellish underground prison they call the living hell for the living.'
"Brigadier General Vicente, my homeland was occupied by the Esat People. The duchy suffered air raid damage for the same reason. Isn't that why Eugene ended up like this?"
Emil tried to justify his actions any way he could.
"I lost my family, my home, my livelihood. Surely you understand my thirst for revenge?"
Masera del Vicente sat silently across the cold metal desk, staring him down.
Thinking his words were getting through, Emil smirked.
"That's why you married the fallen princess, right, Brigadier General? For revenge. As fellow refugees..."
Masera removed his wristwatch and rolled up his shirt sleeve.
Thwack—!
A heavy thud echoed in the sealed room.
Masera adjusted his leather glove as he looked down at Emil, toppled chair and all.
"You cur of a war criminal nation. Treating me like one of you?"
A dark purple glint swirled in his coldly narrowed eyes.
'Damn. I thought he didn't know, but how much does he actually know?'
Blood trickling from his nose, Emil stared up in fear.
"In a republic that values freedom and justice, is this violent torture allowed?"
"I'm giving it to you the imperialist way you groveled to. What's the complaint?"
Emil shut his mouth at the chilling tone.
"Scum like you only cry for justice when it's convenient, then use that freedom to trample others."
Masera had already uncovered that the man had betrayed his country and fled.
Countless people must have been captured in internment camps and brutally killed based on this man's few words.
Masera leaned back in his metal chair, looking down at him.
"And the torture hasn't even started."
Emil's face drained to pale blue as he slumped on the floor.
All of Emil's crimes were exposed, and he was sent to a POW camp for war criminals.
Masera didn't leave the interrogation room until morning.
Squinting at the bright sunlight pouring through the window...
"That's why you married the fallen princess, right, Brigadier General? For revenge."
What was left after revenge?
Lately, something like a glass shard lodged deep in his chest stabbed relentlessly whenever he plugged Cynthia and revenge into the equation.
Maybe he'd been searching for a reason to hate her out of some obligatory sense of duty.
He recalled the time he'd gone out with the major, Cynthia, and Eugene.
She'd called it trauma from a hunting rifle, but panicking at the alert siren...
Wasn't that proof she'd lived through an air raid?
He didn't want to believe it, but her symptoms matched a textbook war victim's PTSD.
Yet she'd never admitted the cause herself.
'...Mental issues are grounds for divorce.'
Objectively, it was a chance to lock her in a psych ward and exercise proxy rights on grounds of impaired judgment.
Masera gazed out at the garden blanketed white from overnight snow.
Snow piled thickly atop the cat house Cynthia had built, only for it to collapse right after.
"Uncle."
Then, a small hand tugged his sleeve.
Eugene bowed his head deeply, confessing like a sinner.
"My mom's an Esat who was always on the run. That's why I got kicked out of hospitals and orphanages. I'm sorry for hiding it. I was scared you'd hate me..."
Eugene's clear eyes were like tender green sprouts peeking through the snow.
"Even after I knew Princess Sis wouldn't kick me out, she looked too much like Mom, so I avoided her."
Eugene trembled, stifling sobs with hiccups.
"Sis is innocent. I was looking for reasons to hate her. She said she wanted to be family because we're both loners..."
A reason to hate.
Masera's eyes widened at Eugene voicing the exact same thought he'd had.
It was clear Cynthia throwing herself under the falling sign to shield Eugene wasn't about dumping him in a psych ward.
Masera bent down to meet Eugene's gaze.
Eugene gripped Masera's finger tightly.
"I was scared of being abandoned again."
"I understand. I'd have felt the same."
Masera pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Eugene's sniffly nose.
"Your mother isn't a criminal—she's the victim. And I don't abandon family."
Eugene's eyes, braced for rejection, widened round.
"I'm... family?"
"Yes."
He smiled gently.
"Then Princess Cynthia is family too, right?"
Masera's lips pressed into a line, then curved again, mindful of the child's eyes.
