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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Flowers, Cake, and Reconciliation
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I had passed out from the shock of the explosion and had just woken up when I was forced to eat another bowl of that tasteless porridge.
"We were really... worried. It was lucky the falling signpost veered off to the side..."
Dalia gazed at the bandage wrapped around my hand with a gloomy look in her eyes.
Her genuine concern warmed my heart.
"Yeah, I got lucky. Sorry for making you worry."
I thought back to Masera, who had shielded both me and Eugene.
I had no idea where he had suddenly appeared from...
Anyway, ever since that day he had wounded my heart with his words, even I—a human being—had been incredibly sulky about it. I knew the cold war dragging on wasn't good for either of us.
'Still, for him to throw himself in harm's way to save me... those words couldn't have come from hatred. He's probably hypersensitive from his own wounds, and hey, what can you do about a prickly cheese cat who's bad at expressing himself...'
As Dalia helped me with my bath, I asked her a few questions.
I'd only inquired about what kind of treatment people with war trauma usually received, but just like Masera, her face darkened dramatically.
"With the family's consent, they're admitted to a psychiatric ward, restrained, and given sedatives."
"...Why?"
I knew social perceptions weren't great, but I hadn't realized it was that bad, so I asked in surprise.
"To prevent self-harm or suicide. Especially for veterans, since they receive a pension until death..."
Dalia trailed off, unable to continue.
Locking them away in a psych ward for life just to keep the pension flowing... I was so shocked I was at a loss for words.
That was when I finally understood why Masera had reacted so sensitively.
From his perspective, I must have looked just like one of them. To him, I was the princess who knew nothing of war and had lived worry-free.
'I was too hasty. I thought there'd at least be medication prescriptions or psychological therapy.'
Either way, I needed to talk it out with Masera and make up. We had to work together, after all.
As Dalia changed my bandage and helped me into fresh clothes, I asked,
"Dalia, is the Brigadier General at the official residence?"
"He went out earlier, but he'll be back soon."
I threw on a thick quilted coat to go greet him, only to spot an officer in Federation Army uniform.
It was Steve Brigadier General, Major Rodriguez's direct superior—and someone on bad terms with Masera. I had no desire to chat with him.
"Oh, isn't this the princess."
But he greeted me first.
I plastered on my social smile and looked at Steve Brigadier General.
"Yes, hello."
He spotted the bandage on my hand and made a pitying face.
"I heard you were injured in that factory explosion the other day. Are you alright?"
"As you can see, I'm perfectly healthy."
"You do look it."
Then why ask? I grumbled inwardly, hoping to end the conversation and leave.
But the persistent Steve Brigadier General kept talking.
"I've heard rumors that things haven't been good between Brigadier General Vicente and you lately."
I wondered who had spread that. With so many people around the residence, word must have leaked out.
"We had a lovers' quarrel. That's newlyweds for you."
I told him only half the truth.
As he scrutinized my smiling face, he got to the point.
"Is that why investors are pulling out en masse and development is delayed? They seem to think it's because of you, princess. Blaming his wife for it—how petty."
He jumped to his own conclusions and spun a tale of discord.
'Of course the other investors follow when a big one pulls out! It's not all your fault!'
This guy had probably invested a large sum from the start with exactly this in mind.
He added smugly,
"Though in reality, it's the rumors that it's just a barren wasteland with no resources whatsoever."
That's you, isn't it? You started those rumors, you snake.
But getting upset first would mean losing. I widened my eyes innocently and said,
"Investing in minerals or resources is such a gamble—unless you've got the heart of a wild beast, it's tough. If you don't have the spare cash, stable investments are the way to go."
I put the roundabout scolding technique I'd learned in Media to very good use.
In essence, I'd called him a coward without money.
Steve Brigadier General didn't back down and smiled leisurely.
"If it stops like this, the losses will only grow over time. Don't you have the duchess as your sister, princess? You can't leave your husband to struggle alone—why not ask the ducal house for investment?"
Translation: 'It's your fault anyway, so what are you doing about it?' This guy had some skill with noble-speak too.
'There were rumors he's been interacting a lot with the duke lately.'
It seemed the duke and Steve Brigadier General had joined hands.
Maybe the duke was using him to create problems in hopes Masera would come begging for help?
Lost in thought, I narrowed my eyes at someone in the distance—then widened them in shock.
It was an unbelievable sight: Masera, the lovesick version, holding flowers in one hand and a cake in the other.
'Who are those for?'
Masera approached with a stiff expression, staring straight at Steve Brigadier General and me. Then he thrust a lovely bouquet of mist flowers adorned with a ribbon toward me.
For me? What in the world—had the heavens shifted?
Startled, I accepted the flowers with wide eyes.
Even Steve Brigadier General, who had seemed eager for our relationship to be at its worst, looked slightly taken aback.
"Ha, my valiant comrade has turned romantic."
Despite the mockery, Masera's expression didn't change—like an iron man tempered by thousands of taunts.
"That war ended ages ago."
He casually tossed out the line and extended his remaining hand to me.
"I remembered you liked cherries, so I picked up a cherry cake on the way."
"Wow, my husband remembers even the little things—best ever!"
I was putting on a sugary newlywed show for Steve Brigadier General's benefit. Masera's poor control over his expressions was a slight wildcard, though.
I hooked my pinky with his and held it up proudly as I said,
"Now that the war's over, I hope you find someone to love soon too, Brigadier General Steve!"
Cracks began forming in Steve Brigadier General's smile. Looked like I'd won.
We left the loser behind and headed to the glass greenhouse.
The moment we arrived, Masera pulled his hand away and asked in a stiff tone,
"Do you smile like that at everyone?"
"Yes. Smiling brings good fortune, and it costs nothing. What's the problem?"
So I answered stiffly too.
Wasn't this makeup flowers and cake? Why pick a fight again?
Masera set down the cake box, clutched his bangs, turned his head, and sighed deeply enough to cave the ground.
"...Do as you please. It's your choice."
"Then why did you bring these? Sick visit?"
When I probed the meaning of the bouquet, he averted his eyes, flicking them side to side, before slumping into a chair and loosening his tie.
"No, just... It's nothing."
"Nothing means you give bouquets to anyone? Unlike smiling, those cost money."
At my lingering jab, he pressed a hand to his eye corner and shook his head.
"First time I've ever set foot in a flower shop."
Imagining him hesitantly picking out flowers made me burst into laughter for some reason.
I sat across from him, propped my chin on my hand, and grinned.
After agonizing forever, he finally spoke.
"I."
"Hm?"
Masera squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, continuing politely.
"I was wrong."
"Wrong about what?"
"Judging your concern for Eugene so negatively that day, and speaking carelessly about you. Thank you for worrying about and thinking of Eugene."
Acting all tsundere when he was just going to apologize anyway. Cute.
"Truth is, I wasn't great either. I had no idea what 'treatment' really means for people with war trauma. They get chained in a psych ward for life, right?"
I extended my hand to him.
"You have your sensitive spots, and I poked at yours—just like I have mine. Sorry for not being careful with my words. So let's make up and get along."
He eyed my hand like a wary cat, grudgingly took it, then immediately let go.
"I only apologized because it was right to do so. As for acting like a happy couple..."
"Whoa, this cherry cake looks delicious!"
I opened the cake box and missed his tsundere follow-up.
Lecanosa Ducal Mansion.
Helen had invited high-society noblewomen to a dinner party, with members of the press and finance world mixed in.
"Duchess, is it true there's a royal legacy buried on the land owned by the youngest princess?"
As someone interested in the wasteland development project asked, Helen smiled sweetly.
In truth, she had hosted this dinner specifically to spread the opinion she wanted.
"I'd have to ask my sister for details, but... from what the surveyors said, it's a bit worrying."
'Sorry to disappoint Father, who hopes that land has value, but I'm part of the ducal family now.'
The duke wanted to see Masera and Cynthia come crawling to him for help.
Helen wanted that picture too, of course.
It was time to put the war orphan and the fake-princess maid in their places and establish the pecking order.
Helen thought as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
'By tomorrow, the articles will be out. Saying the buried treasure is just a pipe dream.'
Helen was convinced that 'Dies,' the royal land she had inherited, was the real one.
It was because of a phrase she had stumbled upon in her mother's belongings as a child.
'Dies' meant 'day,' and the Frost Queen's bloodline was hers, not Cynthia's.
