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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Uncontrollable Impulse
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Masera saw Karos covering his mouth and snickering at his stiffened expression.
"Something unpleasant happen?"
At Karos's amused question, Masera gripped his hand as if clutching Cynthia's hairpin.
"No, I'm just grateful. My wife searched all day and even caught a cold."
Feeling the strength building in his hand, Karos's brow slowly furrowed.
'As expected of a soldier—brute strength.'
It felt like his joints might snap.
"I see. How is Cindy's condition?"
Unable to endure any longer, Karos pulled his hand free and asked nonchalantly.
Masera slowly tilted his head, gazing down at him.
"She took her medicine and fell asleep."
"If she recovers, she'll come looking again."
Karos waved and turned away.
Just judging by Masera's expression, it seemed like he'd won, but a sudden sense of defeat washed over him.
According to Charles, the watcher at the official residence, they'd had a brief spat, but their relationship was generally fine.
'...Anyway, that man's her husband now.'
Who could've guessed becoming one family after the adoption would turn into such an obstacle.
Heading to the banquet hall, Karos sighed as Valeria's contemptuous gaze came to mind.
Returning to the room, Masera looked down at the sleeping Cynthia.
He tucked a hairpin into her scattered locks, but the deeply asleep woman showed no reaction.
"......"
Under the dim nightlight, cold sweat beaded on Cynthia's flushed face. Her long lashes were damp, making her look all the more pitiful.
He placed a hand on her forehead to check her temperature.
"It's cool......"
In her hazy state, Cynthia nuzzled his cold hand and murmured.
Masera's gaze shifted to the basin of cold water and damp towel by the bedside.
He wrung out the wet cloth and gently wiped her face and neck.
"Ugh, cold!"
The moment the towel brushed her collarbone, Cynthia jolted awake with a start.
"Sorry."
The flustered Masera quickly withdrew the cloth.
Cynthia blinked her red eyes, as if focusing her blurred vision, then looked at him.
"Isn't the banquet starting?"
"Not too late yet."
"No matter how I think about it, since he's your superior, I should go too......"
As Cynthia groaned and tried to sit up, Masera shook his head.
"You still have a fever. Not in this condition."
"I'm tougher than I look. Even with enteritis, I'd go out for a sandwich."
How insatiable is her appetite?
Masera set the towel aside and tried dissuading her once more.
"I'll bring food and dessert separately. No need to push yourself."
But Cynthia had already slipped from the bed, planting her feet firmly and squaring her shoulders.
"See? The medicine worked wonders. I'm fine. Plus, the Brigadier General nursed me......"
Her head suddenly spun.
Seeing her sway backward from dizziness, Masera lunged and caught her.
Crash!
He threw himself forward, barely managing to embrace Cynthia as they both tumbled to the floor. Masera lay there, sighing.
Unintentionally sprawled atop him, Cynthia's eyes went wide.
'Oh no.'
Sensations zeroed in on the large hand gripping her nape and the firm arm encircling her waist.
"Are you doing this on purpose, perhaps?"
Masera's voice carried a note of resignation.
Cynthia stealthily lifted her upper body.
"Like a newbie recruit's overzealous mistake. Sorry."
A strange woman—mouth running even through the pain.
Masera gazed up at Cynthia wordlessly, his pupils gradually darkening.
Sensing something amiss, she glanced downward.
"But what's that on your pants......"
Realization dawned, and her face flushed crimson.
Masera abruptly sat up as well.
His brain's commands had been ignored—raw male instinct taking over.
"Please move......"
But the sight of her face so near froze his thoughts.
Her signature fresh peach scent pinned him in place.
At this razor-thin distance, their breaths grew heavier.
In the silence broken only by the clock's ticking second hand, a charged tension hung in the air.
Masera's gaze locked onto Cynthia's lips. Her shoulders rose and fell visibly with each breath.
'The mood......'
Restless, Cynthia pulled back and averted her eyes needlessly. Her heart pounded so fiercely it echoed in her ears.
Meanwhile, Masera's eyes fluttered slowly shut, then open. In those pie-cut irises—like violet paint dropped into a blue lake—his pupils seemed fully dilated.
'What do I do?'
Her brief bewilderment shattered as the hand at her back pulled her close, pressing their torsos together.
Soon, warm lips met hers.
"Hmph."
Cynthia's eyes flew wide in shock.
'Weren't our kisses just for show to others?'
The fleeting doubt vanished in an instant.
Masera pulled back after a brief press, turning his head aside.
His chest heaved with deep breaths before he looked at her again.
"I've warned you time and again. I'm a man, and......"
Masera trailed off.
Even in the twilight room bathed in the nightlight's soft glow, Cynthia could see his eyes rimmed red.
Sweeping back his platinum hair with one hand, he continued, sigh mingling with his words.
"You're beautiful."
Cynthia stared at him blankly, lips slightly parted.
Beau...tiful?
Is that what he'd thought all along?
Then Masera scooped her up and gently laid her on the bed.
"It's getting to me. Enough to make me angry."
He tossed those loaded words over his shoulder and left the room.
Lying on the bed, Cynthia curled into a small ball. The afterglow of that brief moment stretched endlessly.
'Just a man's impulse? Or... does he actually...'
Masera coming to like her.
That was her goal for survival—what she'd hoped for.
'But if my lies come out?'
She'd optimistically assumed that if he cared, he wouldn't kill her.
That was certainly true at first...
Cynthia felt a sharp pang rising from deep within.
Now, she feared disappointing him.
She bit her lip, lost in thought.
'What do I feel for him?'
Perhaps the lingering medicine clouded her mind.
Lying there wide-eyed and sleepless, Cynthia let out a deep sigh.
Masera was just as conflicted. Upon reaching the banquet hall, he knocked back a stiff whiskey.
'Why act so impulsively? No better than those pathetic womanizers.'
He'd sworn never to grow attached to some Variesa princess. Vowed to wreck her life just as she'd wrecked his...
Instead of appetizers, he alternated between self-reproach and bitter self-mockery.
"Brigadier General, came alone?"
A lady approached Masera then.
Filling his empty glass solo, Masera regarded her with a blank expression.
"No partner for me either."
She was strikingly beautiful, but Masera's mind held one obsession.
'Why did I do that?'
The lady tried speaking several times, but he merely tilted his glass in silence.
From afar, Helen—attending without her duke husband—danced and laughed with a gentleman. Such things were natural at banquets, yet...
'Unpleasant.'
Imagining Cynthia dancing with another man, he gripped his glass unconsciously.
"Brigadier General!"
Startled voices around him snapped Masera back. He looked down at his hand—shattered crystal glass clutched in a bleeding palm.
"Are you all right?"
The lady who'd offered to partner pulled out a handkerchief to staunch the flow.
He refused firmly, drawing his own from his coat pocket to bind the wound.
'What the hell is this damned feeling?'
Furious and baffled by the unfamiliar emotion he'd never known.
No answers came from brooding, so he headed to the terrace to clear his head.
An officer smoking a cigar on the terrace offered one to Masera.
"Quit."
"Since when?"
"Before marriage."
"Ah, the princess hates them? Lots of men quit after tying the knot."
Masera gazed at the night sky embroidered with pale green auroras before replying.
"......Yeah."
Come to think of it, that seemed right.
A maid in uniform watched the pensive Masera quietly before slipping away.
