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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: The Worn-Out Male Lead Picked the Wrong Opponent
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"Pfft-!"
After spending a blockbuster-level weekend, I had turned into a complete invalid.
On the ride back to the official residence in the car, I coughed and sneezed nonstop. It seemed my cold had evolved into the flu.
"Brigadier General... I'm sick."
"Being sick has the advantage of making you quiet."
Masera was still his grumpy, standoffish self. Even so, he kindly offered his shoulder.
I leaned my head on his firm shoulder, sniffled, and pieced together the events.
Masera had been the first to enter the room where I'd disappeared, and even after finding the note hinting at an elopement, he'd come looking for me.
How would a typical novel's male lead react?
"The pissed-off male lead thinks the heroine ran away, imprisons her, and ties her up tight like an exorcism ritual...!"
Suddenly, the worn-out genre plot my sister had told me about in my past life popped into my head.
Tied up like an exorcism? How does she eat, or go to the bathroom? It was utterly cruel.
How could that even be romance? My sister, who liked that stuff, must not have been right in the head either.
I stealthily glanced up at Masera, who oddly gave off worn-out male lead vibes.
In just one day, shadows had formed under his eyes, making him look decadent.
As his languid gaze looked down at me, I quickly closed my eyes again.
"The Brigadier General searched all night without a wink of sleep."
Someone had told me that.
Knowing there was someone who would worry and come looking for me if I vanished filled my heart with warmth. Up until now, I'd been a lonely outsider in this unfamiliar world.
Hehe.
Someone to wipe my runny nose too... Huh?
I snapped my eyes open at the sensation of my nose being rubbed.
Masera had balled up a tissue and stuffed it into my nostril.
"It was like a broken faucet."
He said it in a matter-of-fact tone.
I couldn't tell if it was a joke meant to ease my embarrassment or if he genuinely thought so.
Unable to breathe through my nose anymore, I asked in a nasal voice,
"But aren't you okay, Brigadier General? Didn't you catch my cold?"
"I didn't do anything that could transmit it."
An awkward silence followed.
Looking back, that night, we had definitely done something transmissible.
"...I'm not that frail."
Masera said after a pause.
"Yes... I see."
I quietly pulled my head away, putting some distance between us. Whether from the fever or embarrassment, heat rose to my face.
'Why did he kiss me back then?'
I couldn't bring myself to ask.
Masera was resting his chin on his hand, staring out the car window.
I dazedly stared at his sharp jawline and prominent nose in profile, then quickly looked to the other side.
"Starting tomorrow."
He began, still gazing out the window.
"We'll sleep in the same room."
"Because it's dangerous?"
"Yes. I won the word chain bet, so even if you say no, that's how it'll be."
Cardum was totally cheating! Cheating to win and then sharing a room?
Our conversation ended there. My nose was so stuffed I couldn't speak properly anyway.
Suddenly, soft hair tickled my neck. A cool, dawn-air scent lingered at the tip of my nose.
Masera, who had dozed off, had his head lightly resting on my shoulder.
'He said he didn't sleep a wink.'
He must be exhausted.
His large frame, big enough to cover my body, was a bit burdensome, but didn't that man need a place to lean on sometimes too?
The moment we arrived at the official residence, a soldier in a white doctor's coat over his uniform came to my room.
It was Captain Carlton, the medical officer.
After the examination, he pushed up his glasses and pulled out a syringe.
"Princess, ready to be brave?"
He spoke like a pediatrician, but his expression was utterly soulless.
I shook my head at the sight of the ominously thick needle.
"No?"
"It'll sting."
"Uwaaaaa!"
It wasn't just a sting.
My arm felt like it was on fire. The pain spread through my veins—a truly horrific intravenous injection.
"One more sting~ You're not a baby anymore, right~?"
"Aaaaa!"
He only treated me like a child in words; the needle was a genuine adult-sized one. A ruthless doctor.
After jabbing in a massive IV needle, he didn't forget to clap three times in praise.
"Princess, do you know anything about your family history? For the prescription."
"Hmm, not really..."
Was he referring to albinism? It hasn't been made public yet. I decided to play dumb.
The captain, who had been staring at me intently, asked,
"Medicine—strawberry or grape flavor?"
"S-strawberry flavor."
"Put this ointment on your face. It's just like strawberry."
He said it looking at my cheeks, reddened like ripe strawberries in the sun.
After Captain Carlton left, I realized the cold medicine he'd given me was bitterly adult-tasting, not strawberry-flavored at all. I trembled with betrayal.
A little later, Eugene came to my room.
"I heard you caught a cold from the snowman."
"Who said that?"
"Uncle doctor. He said you cried like a five-year-old getting a shot."
"That's not true? I didn't even flinch."
Carlton, you damn quack...
"Drew cats for sis to get better quick."
Eugene unfurled a drawing of cats. He kept his distance, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, clearly reluctant to catch it.
I giggled.
"Eugene, did you take good care of the cats while I was gone?"
"Dalia and I fed them, changed the water so it wouldn't freeze, and finished all the winter prep."
Eugene proudly declared himself a full-fledged cat guardian, placing his drawing on the nightstand.
"Don't die. Uncle would be sad."
"Did the Brigadier General worry about me?"
"Yeah. He had a sad face. He always looks the same, but he has expressions."
After Eugene wished me a speedy recovery and left, I drifted back to sleep.
How much time passed? In my half-asleep state, I felt a gentle hand stroking my hair.
It was an affectionate touch, like my dad's when he'd stroke my head as I slept as a child before leaving.
Peeking through slitted eyes, I saw the sturdy back of a uniformed figure turning to leave.
'It was the Brigadier General.'
Thinks I'll miss it if he sneaks a stroke on the way out?
I smiled to myself, then suddenly my eyes flew wide open.
'Didn't think I'd fall for him too?'
What now?
The emotions from that moment he kissed me resurfaced.
At the same time, anxiety over the predetermined ending washed over me.
I could only pray that this daily life lasted as long as possible.
"The Liberty Society dispersed their organization to evade the military's eyes. In the process, they split into moderates and radicals, and the location where my faction gathers is..."
Based on the confession of the woman captured at the scene, they pinpointed the meeting spot as a fireworks shop.
Masera led his troops and rounded up those who had plotted Cynthia's kidnapping.
Masera personally interrogated their leader in the interrogation room.
The leader was a young man around Masera's age.
"Vicente Brigadier General. Or rather, Masera Giz. Remember me?"
At the leader's question, Masera tilted his head and scanned him.
He added,
"We met at the war orphans' facility."
In truth, Masera didn't remember. There had been too many such kids.
He felt no particular sentiment just because they came from the same facility. It was more like realizing that the kids who cried for their parents had grown into adults like him.
"Masera, you've lived persecuted too. Shouldn't you share our cause then?"
"What cause?"
"Exterminating the Variesa bloodline so monarchy can never rise again. The Liberty Society carries on the revolutionaries' will to change this rotten world."
Masera pressed down on his heavy eyelids; he had barely slept.
"Kidnapping the princess and demanding money—that's your grand cause?"
"It's activity funds."
The leader grinned sinisterly.
"The princess was quite pretty, wasn't she? You've played with her plenty by now—aren't you bored? Deep down, didn't you hope we'd take care of her for you?"
Masera reached out and gripped the leader's jaw hard.
"Eup!"
Was it the fatigue? The wound on his cheek from the suppression throbbed especially painfully.
"Royals or revolutionaries—they're all the same perpetrators to me."
Masera murmured lowly, tightening his grip as he continued.
"The royals gave my mother the pretext for death, and the revolutionaries took direct action. Ironically enough."
Reflecting on his harsh life, there was no one who hadn't harmed him.
Defining evil by grouping them into organizations or bloodlines felt meaningless.
It would just lead to hating the world itself in the end.
At that moment, the leader, whose jaw was gripped, widened his eyes and let out a low chuckle.
"You, with the demon eyes that have killed countless people... you think you can live like a normal person? You can't trust anyone."
A normal person?
Masera withdrew his hand.
His darkened eyes stared off into space. Due to the lack of sleep, everything suddenly felt exhausting.
"You've worked hard today too... Where are you going? Can't you see how praiseworthy I am for waiting up late without sleeping?"
He didn't know why the noisy princess's chatter came to mind, but he just wanted to go back and rest.
Seeing Masera draw his pistol from his pocket, the leader grinned.
"See? We're all broken people."
Aiming at the man spewing curses, Masera had only one thought.
Just let it stay like this.
Having someone waiting for him and a place to return to was enough.
But rendering both their wishes in vain, an enormous scandal broke the very next morning.
Articles featuring photos of Cynthia and Karos embracing began flooding in.
