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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Picked the Wrong Opponent
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***
Steve Brigadier General opened his eyes in bed. With a dazed expression, he blinked a few times before breaking into a relieved smile.
"Haha, it was just a dream. Of course something like that couldn't happen."
No nightmare was this bad. Thinking that, he closed his heavy eyelids again—only for a woman's clear voice to ring out.
"Please wake up, hero."
The voice was as warm as sunlight, and with his eyes still shut, he wondered.
'A dream where I meet a beautiful goddess?'
Beyond his half-lidded vision, he saw a stunning woman bathed in rainbow-like radiance.
Mistaking her for a goddess, he grabbed her hand.
"Where is this place? Is it the fated spot where our destinies begin?"
"This is the infirmary for the weaklings."
She spoke like a gatekeeper of hell, peering down at him. Realizing it was Cynthia, Steve Brigadier General let out a shriek.
"Gah!"
At the same moment, the tissue stuffed in his nose popped out.
Cynthia, backlit by the afternoon sun, flashed a bright smile.
It wasn't a goddess. And everything he wanted to believe was a dream... had all been real.
"...Not a dream?"
He muttered with a hollow expression.
His mind's calculator whirred into overdrive, the realization that he'd blown a fortune and a golden opportunity flooding his thoughts.
"Ah."
He'd lost to that war orphan again.
Having shown his true colors so blatantly, he'd become an obstacle to every Media-related venture from now on—no doubt about it.
Worse, among the investors who'd pulled their funds on his advice were his superiors and connections in politics and business.
Despair and defeat washed over him as he crushed his face in his hands.
"Ah, is something wrong?"
Learning that Steve had fainted because of her, Cynthia grabbed his face and peered in close.
'If you die, I'll go to prison for manslaughter!'
Startled by the sudden closeness, Steve's eyes widened like saucers.
"No, I..."
"Are you okay? I'm just too strong sometimes... I'll cover your medical bills."
Cynthia let go with an awkward smile.
His gaze fell to his own hand, still clutching hers.
"Ah, sorry. Forgive my rudeness."
Unlike his usual debauched self, he released her hand politely, as if they were at a formal event.
'Wait, shouldn't she be the one apologizing? Why did I apologize?'
He'd been ready to yell and vent his rage—then Cynthia brushed her long hair behind her ear and smiled innocently.
"Sorry for slamming the door open too, Steve Brigadier General."
Her hair sparkled like snowflakes in the sunlight, her white cheeks tinged pink, her large ruby eyes and innocent droop, her overall pure impression.
Seeing that sunlit smile, his anger vanished.
'Goddess of Luck...'
As he stared at her in a daze, heavy military boot steps approached and halted beside them.
"If you're awake, why not head out already."
Masera looked down at Steve with cold eyes.
"I was just about to."
Rubbing his reddened ears, Steve rose, donned his uniform coat, and stood.
Cynthia stood too.
"Um, if you're going to the hospital, the medical fees..."
"It's nothing. How hard could a door be opened by a princess with a bandaged arm?"
Steve glanced at her wrapped arm, then strode out of the infirmary haughtily.
Masera watched his retreating back, a displeased feeling rising.
To Masera, who knew him well, that expression looked like... jealousy over losing something he coveted.
And why were his ears flushed like that?
Cynthia sat back in the chair and looked up at Masera with a grin.
"What do you think? My idea to partner with the Media royal family on business?"
Was he swayed by that smile? It was just her usual fair smile to everyone.
Masera nodded inwardly and agreed.
"Sounds good. I'll send it to the Media side right after signing."
Cynthia gazed at the opposite window, smile lingering. She looked distant, a touch melancholic, though he couldn't read her thoughts.
He recalled the queen's words.
"If you get along well with the princess, I'll give you a gift."
Was that what she meant?
How had she convinced the queen overnight for such a massive win?
"You've obtained a gem you must never lose in your lifetime. The wise and kind are rare."
Masera pondered the queen's cryptic words, feeling a bit confused.
'Splitting ownership of Knox lands with the Media royals could spark inheritance issues later. Doesn't this exclude his own family?'
No matter how good Cynthia seemed, she was still the Queensguard Count's daughter. Not someone to fully trust.
She wouldn't betray her family for a political marriage.
And it was too soon to think she loved him...
"And it's not an act. Everything was because I wanted you to like me, Brigadier General."
It sounded like she was trying because she liked him—but she wasn't the type for desperate one-sided love.
She always balanced give and take.
He couldn't shake the feeling it was out of necessity.
'...What on earth is she thinking?'
He prided himself on reading people after surviving hardships.
Yet she seemed innocently bright while hiding dark corners, impossible to fathom.
But thanks to her, he'd scored big and escaped crisis.
Masera stood straight, legs together, and saluted her.
"My sincere thanks to the princess who helped."
Cynthia pouted childishly.
"...Do you have to be so formal? We're not strangers."
"This is my way of expressing utmost gratitude. Is there something else you desire?"
"Let's build a cat house together. I tried alone, but I can't do it."
"Understood."
Masera, who'd half-expected a request for help, nodded.
'Finally, she's asking me for aid.'
He clenched his fist, seeming more excited than about the Media deal.
Back in my room, my shoulders were hunched up.
'I planned to mention the queen's investment later...'
After building trust that Masera wouldn't kill me but protect me.
But seeing him throw himself under the falling sign and pull Eugene and me into his arms convinced me.
He didn't want me dead. And he'd save me if I was in danger.
Plus, he'd come with flowers and gifts first to reconcile.
I smiled at the mist flowers in the vase.
The count's plan to kill me within a year wouldn't change.
So better to prove my value early and secure protection than stall.
The secret to convincing the queen? I'd learned her key advisor was her daughter, the crown princess.
The crown princess had uncanny foresight—everything she touched turned to gold. She had to be a transmigrator or reincarnator.
After all, she'd already snatched every spot I'd eyed with my past-life knowledge.
"Your Majesty, if Knox's buried resources are revealed, it'll make us a target for the great powers and threaten world peace."
Historically, massive oil would be found there.
And that would ignite the worst modern war.
My family and I died in its crossfire.
If the crown princess truly saw the future, she'd know and agree.
"I'll make the Media royals next in line for inheritance after my husband."
I'd planned for my death in advance.
I couldn't hand it to the Queensguard Count, who'd sell out the country.
The Lutemia Republic was forged by countless sacrifices.
Masera felt the same, so I'd protect it too.
My solution: protection from Media, the era's superpower.
Marriage law meant Knox would revert to the Queensguard family if I died within a year—but there were ways around it.
'A last will.'
A will trumped marriage law.
The twenty-something count would never dream I'd prepare one.
I spread paper and began writing. In the quiet room, only the scratch of pen on paper sounded.
"By the time you read this, I will already be gone from this world..."
"Sob... waaah..."
Was writing a will this heartbreaking?
Tears blurred my vision after just a few lines. Even after dying once, it hurt.
"Too sad. I'll finish later."
I tucked the unfinished will deep in the drawer and locked it.
"When you're sad, peel onions."
Peel onions and snag a midnight snack. With that thought, I dashed to the kitchen.
Unaware of the chaos this will would cause someday.
