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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Act 3: Masked Comedy
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Dalia, tasked with delivering the photo, headed to the newspaper office with a resolute expression full of determination.
Surely skipping the hug with Helen would be fine, since we'd done it at the villa before.
Back at the residence, I decided to do something Masera would like, based on the information I'd gotten from Diego.
"He always drinks a latte during work. Two spoons of sugar."
"He likes inventions and machines. He often goes to see related museums or exhibitions, car shows, air shows."
It was an informative time where I learned a lot about Masera.
"Coffee, interesting machines..."
Lost in thought, I came up with a great idea.
I'm a modern person from a highly advanced civilization, after all. I should show him something really fun and amazing, right?
I smiled, imagining Masera marveling and clapping in delight. Then I headed straight to his room.
"Are you busy?"
I flung the door open and asked. I'd forgotten to knock, but surely he'd understand once he saw this fun thing.
Masera hurriedly hid something, frowning as he grabbed a magazine that was about to fall from the floor assembly.
"Don't you knock?"
"Want some coffee?"
"I already had..."
"Coffee mix, quick and easy without straining your arm."
I recited a tantalizing line and held up an electric drill.
He looked utterly incredulous at the teaspoon tied to the drill bit.
I lined up a jar of coffee powder and a mug of warm milk on his desk in turn.
"Now, put the coffee powder in the mug."
Having piqued his curiosity, he silently watched as I scooped powder into the mug with the spoon.
"And now, witness the amazing result!"
I turned on the drill, and the spoon connected to it spun wildly inside the cup.
Splash!
Unlike my fantasy of creating a perfect coffee whirlpool and earning applause, warm milk sprayed all over Masera's face.
"I've studied centrifugal force. Amazing science trick, next time..."
I figured I should make a quick exit myself.
As he wiped his face with a handkerchief, he asked,
"How do you explain the milk splashing?"
"Error in the direction of circular motion—no, molecular tension relaxed... Sorry!"
I spat out nonsense and fled the scene.
I escaped to the kitchen and sniffled while whipping cream with the drill spoon.
"Oh, that's quite the inventive tool."
Zad, the Francian chef, clapped with an intrigued look. The kitchen staff joined in the applause.
'At least I got some applause.'
Zad asked,
"Are you baking a cake?"
"Making a peace offering snack for the Brigadier General."
"A peace offering?"
Zad's eyes sparkled, and the kitchen staff instantly surrounded me.
"How did the fight start?"
"Who won? No, first we need opinions on the peace offering."
After a long meeting, we settled on a 'blueberry whipped cream cake.' The blueberries I'd bought to recover with—oh well.
Zad baked the sponge, apprentice Mary spread the cream, and I diligently decorated with blueberries.
As Zad helped with the finishing touches, he asked,
"After tea time, Izac Major General and his wife are joining for dinner, right?"
"Yeah. They want to eat your amazing ratatouille again."
The Lecanosa Duke, Helen, Karos, and even the Prime Minister's daughter Valeria were coming. Looked like we'd be dining surrounded by enemies.
"That's understandable."
Zad nodded confidently and handed me the boxed cake.
With the kitchen staff's cheers behind me, I headed to Masera's room with the finished cake. This time, I didn't forget to knock.
"I made a cake. Want to try it?"
Masera set down his fountain pen and looked up at my voice.
Probably because of the milk disaster earlier, he'd changed from uniform to a suit.
"You made it?"
"About 90%."
I declared proudly.
Whipping the cream, mixing the batter—the hard parts were mine, so that stake seemed fair.
I carefully placed the cake box on his desk, and he picked it up and stood.
"Too much for me alone."
"You can share with others."
"Not enough then."
What did he want?
As I glanced sideways, he nodded toward the sofa table.
Ah, he wants to eat together? Is this a sign of reconciliation?
I sat across from Masera at the table, and he took out the cake.
Then I saw him bite his lip at the lettering on the cake.
I only know you.
Red letters written in strawberry chocolate pen—in cursive script, no less.
I stared blankly at the revolutionized cake.
'Zad must've written it behind my back! No wonder he was grinning like a love cupid!'
"...Thanks for the treat."
Masera cleared his throat awkwardly and cut the cake.
In the suffocating awkwardness, I shoveled cake into my mouth and asked,
"Is it good?"
"Haven't tasted it yet."
What should I talk about? Words failed me. In the end, I blurted out whatever came to mind.
"I heard you like tennis."
"Yes."
"I'll practice hard."
To my words, he replied while tasting the cake,
"If your skill improves enough to play with me, I'll grant you one wish."
"Really?"
Then when my fake princess identity gets exposed later, pretend you don't know!
I nearly spilled my inner thoughts.
Then Masera suddenly reached out and wiped cream from the corner of my mouth with his finger. His eyes widened round.
"Yes, the cake is delicious."
For a moment, my heart jolted.
"Um... You're not mad?"
To my cautious question, he tilted his head and asked calmly,
"Why would I be mad?"
'This man... was never mad at me to begin with.'
The sudden realization hit me.
He'd trusted me all along. Look at that smile!
Joy welled up in me.
Alright, I'll train like mad and become a tennis genius. Then we'll form a duo, enter world tournaments, and he'll treasure his soulmate partner—me—and fear losing me!
I grinned, my mind running a sports growth story circuit.
As evening dusk fell, the perfect time for my activities.
I sneaked out with a tennis racket and balls, dashing to the empty backyard.
Seeming too eager might push me away from the 'talent' realm required for world tournament entry.
"Meowww."
The mother cat approached, letting out a long cry. Sounded like she wanted something?
"Mew!"
She scanned around, searching for kittens.
The babies gathered one by one, but one was missing.
"One, two, three, four... Huh? Where's Masera Cheese II?"
The most mischievous, capricious, stubborn kitten was gone.
I looked up at the sky threatening snow, then spotted tiny straight paw prints leading to the woods.
At the end of the prints, far off, Cheese the cat was watching me.
"Come here! It's dangerous!"
Going into the woods could mean getting eaten by beasts!
Just then, a large eagle circled above Cheese the cat.
"I give up!"
I freaked out and chased after the kitten.
Night deepened, and Dalia came to Masera's room with a pale face.
"What happened?"
To Masera's question, Dalia clasped her hands tightly and bowed her head.
"Lady Cynthia—no, Your Highness has gone missing."
Sharp snowflakes whipped through the dark sky. A sign of a blizzard.
"When did you notice?"
"When I brought dinner. I've already requested a search from the troops."
Masera stood, recalling the previous kidnapping.
'But a spy wouldn't infiltrate the residence.'
Dalia added,
"I checked outside on the way back. Seems she headed to the woods. We need to reinforce manpower and search quickly."
The woods? Could the scandal have driven her to leave on her own?
Beyond the woods lay a simple train station.
Masera grabbed his coat and headed out.
'Running off without a word, leaving me on her whim? In this weather?'
"Dalia, how did she react to the scandal article?"
Dalia looked at Masera with resentful eyes.
"She was very upset. Worried you'd misunderstand and hate her. She seemed to put in every effort to soothe your feelings..."
He recalled Cynthia earlier, bringing cake with a timid expression.
"Um... You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
He replayed his response, wondering if it had been appropriate.
Did she think he hadn't cared from the start?
Then a maid rushed up, handing him something.
"We found this in Her Highness's room."
Masera's eyes widened at the paper.
'...A suicide note?'
Suddenly, Cynthia's smiling face flickered before him.
At the same time, a subordinate's bright smile before taking his own life flashed, making his heart plummet.
