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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Picked the Wrong Opponent
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After dinner, the maids, Dalia included, came rushing in carrying armloads of things.
“Phew, good thing we stocked the furniture ahead of time.”
“Rose bath salts, top-grade oils, and rose-scented perfume are all ready.”
“Which nightgown from the ones the Duchess and the princesses gave you last time?”
Their collective fussing made my head spin. I stared at them all in bewilderment.
“Um, I already took a bath.”
The maids sat me down at the vanity and began brushing my hair and doing me up.
“Then save the bath salts for later. We'll get you all dolled up now.”
“A silk slip would be perfect, right?”
Passed around from hand to hand by the maids, I asked,
“Why? Suddenly? Why doll me up in the middle of the night?”
Dalia, who had been lighting some sweetly scented incense, looked at me with a grave expression.
“Because it's your wedding consummation night.”
“Gasp.”
How did it come to this?
It seemed too late to say we'd only planned to have a meeting—the maids, Dalia included, looked far too enthusiastic for that.
“A lighter shade on the lips would be better!”
“No need for hair ornaments.”
“No, tying it with a ribbon and then letting it loose would set the mood so much...”
Why weren't they asking me?
After that stormy whirlwind of time passed, they left me with a braided half-updo and the slip on, then departed the room.
They'd even thoughtfully set the table with desserts, wine, and candles to heighten the mood.
“......”
I jumped to my feet, intending to change clothes. Anyone who saw this would think I was expecting a passionate wedding night.
As I hurriedly pulled down the slip's shoulder straps, there was a knock, and the door clicked open.
“Uh.”
“Ah.”
I locked eyes with Masera, who had arrived in his uniform and coat.
His face stiffened in an instant, and he slowly turned around.
“That half-dressed state is disconcerting.”
Still facing away, he said it with utmost seriousness.
“And I didn't come dressed like this with any such intentions, either.”
Perhaps because of what I'd said last time about liking uniforms, he even added an excuse.
“Well, Dalia had this huge misunderstanding... There, I'm dressed now.”
I fumbled into my coat as I replied.
“......”
Masera drew close to me and slowly lowered his eyelids.
“There's something you mustn't forget.”
“What? That ours is a political marriage just for mutual gain?”
I asked brightly, but his expression remained dark.
“No.”
He slowly shook his head. As he did, he buttoned up the coat I'd missed and continued,
“That we're husband and wife all the same, and there's a gulf between man and woman.”
His low voice sank like mist, making my shoulders hunch up. My cheeks felt inexplicably hot—not quite embarrassment, more awkwardness.
I couldn't tell what he meant by saying that, so I had no idea how to respond.
“Then, shall we work on the guest list together?”
I quickly reminded him of our original purpose and sat on the sofa.
Masera nodded and sat down across from me.
As if to brush away the subtle tension that had passed between us, we began discussing the people we'd invite.
“With the world expo coming up soon, plenty of foreigners will be arriving too...”
From what I'd observed so far, Masera was the type to respect others' opinions. The fact that he accepted even my words—practically those of an enemy—was proof.
“Then let's wrap it up here for now and revise later.”
As we neared the end, Masera glanced around the room, which was decorated with antique furniture and ornaments, and asked,
“Did you furnish this? It was completely empty not long ago.”
“Yes. Not bad, right?”
“It's good. I was worried it might be some odd concept.”
He looked relieved. What on earth had he imagined...?
All that effort consulting with Dalia and Diego to make it elegantly luxurious had paid off.
“Did you learn piano?”
He nodded toward the piano in the corner.
“Yes. Not very well, though.”
“Would you play a piece?”
Masera made an unexpected request. Was he a more sensitive man than I'd thought?
With a confident expression, I rose and headed to the piano.
I placed my hands on the keys and looked back at him.
“Do you remember the piece from our wedding?”
Masera nodded silently.
I cleared my throat with a hem-hem, straightened my back, and sat on the piano bench.
"This is called 'Liebestraum.' Gotta practice hard to play it without sheet music."
Suddenly, I recalled the gentle voice of my piano academy director from my past life. I hadn't finished learning it before she left for military service.
Ding-
I struggled to revive old memories and continued the clumsy performance.
War begins quietly beneath the veneer of everyday normalcy.
The routine you believed would repeat identically tomorrow suddenly crumbles one day. All I could think was that I never wanted the tragedy I'd endured to happen again.
Diling-
In the end, I couldn't finish and lifted my hands from the keys.
I simply couldn't bear the overwhelming surge of emotion.
“Uh... it's been too long since I played.”
I offered an excuse with an awkward smile and tried to stand.
But by then, he had come to the piano and sat beside me, placing his hands on the keys.
“Music education is the privilege of nobles, but I learned piano too.”
“Who taught you?”
“When I was a boy soldier, I was once taken prisoner. I learned from an enemy colonel then.”
Masera pressed the keys with his slender fingers.
“That colonel was known as a madman, cruel and a devil worshiper. But...”
He looked down at me beside him and added,
“Up close, he was just an ordinary man. He even released me after I'd wiped out several of his units.”
He began playing the piano with elegant grace.
The serious, narrative piece was...
the Chopsticks March.
“So this utterly cruel, mad, devil-worshiper colonel captured you, taught you the Chopsticks March, and let you go?”
“Yes.”
“Aha.”
He looked so grave and serious that I couldn't even laugh.
I solemnly played the Chopsticks March alongside him.
“Ahem.”
Then I burst out laughing despite myself.
His expression still blank, he asked,
“Are you laughing?”
“Imagining it is just too funny. Sorry.”
“I said it so you'd laugh. You had a face like you wanted to cry.”
The eyes staring straight at me narrowed elegantly.
“And I think I should stay in this room tonight. Everyone believes it's the consummation night.”
The Queensguard Count's face was blooming with smiles.
The moment articles called the Knox region a useless wasteland, who could have guessed it would be upgraded to a land of opportunity with investments from the Media Queen?
“I think I know what our eldest son-in-law is planning.”
The Count was well aware of the Lecanosa Duke's inferiority complex toward Masera. Helen, not wanting to lose out even to a mere maid, had undoubtedly agreed.
Short-sighted fools who couldn't see far and put their moods first.
If only Cynthia were my daughter instead of Helen, who took after her mother's prideful nature.
Suddenly, he recalled Princess Margarita, who had fled north in a wretched state.
You are the knight I trust most.
Startled by the chain of thoughts that had slipped in unbidden, the Count's brow furrowed sharply.
“......Pointless thoughts.”
He picked up the calendar to gauge the date and sank into contemplation.
“My foster daughter is faithfully upholding the contract, so this foster father must help her.”
If only to rein in Helen and the Duke, who kept interfering as they pleased.
The Queensguard Count devised a plan to remain in the capital—under the pretext of finding brides for his two sons, but really to keep Helen in check and gain advantages through Cynthia.
Meanwhile, Karos Queensguard had also heard the news of the Queen's investment.
Even his father, the Count, was convinced Knox held tremendous value.
However, Helen's letter stated unequivocally that there was nothing in Knox at all—that it was a ploy to drum up investment funds for fanciful development.
'No matter the outcome, it'll end up in my hands. I hold her weaknesses: impersonating royalty, murder......'
There was no way he could lose.
Even if Masera somehow learned every truth and still accepted Cynthia, the chances were high he'd pay a fortune in hush money to me, who knew her secrets.
'But then I couldn't use Cynthia anymore, could I?'
「Does she really seem like she'll gaze only at you forever, brother? From what I see, no. People's hearts change in an instant. What if the leash you've got on her slips?」
That was Helen's postscript in the letter.
He recalled Cynthia's eyes, which had grown cold compared to before, and her emotionless voice.
It might be better to keep her chained for life. And hadn't the perfect opportunity arisen to stay in the capital?
That was when it happened.
“I wonder what reaction Cynthia will have if she learns I came to the capital to find a bride.”
Startled as his own thoughts echoed aloud, Karos whipped his head around.
At the door stood his younger brother Edford, shoulders back in an arrogant pose.
“Unlike you, brother, if Cynthia chose me, I'd be willing to give up everything.”
All talk, no action.
Karos let out a sigh.
The two brothers were completely unaware that their father, the Count, intended to dispose of Cynthia.
