The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner Chapter 14

‘What on earth is going on?’

 

Cynthia glanced at Maceira.

 

Maceira was staring at Helene’s dress with his usual blank expression.

 

‘The Duke Lecanosa intercepted it. How pathetic.’

 

The Duke, who hated losing to Maceira in anything, no matter how small, must’ve pulled strings to swipe it out from him.

 

“….”

 

Maceira instinctively checked Cynthia’s expression.

 

He was sure she’d be disappointed; upset, even. But her face was as calm as ever.

 

“Oh no, my sister beat us to the punch. Still, good thing there’s plenty of time left before our wedding.”

 

“You seemed fond of that one. Aren’t you upset?”

 

“Why would I be? I’ll just pick a new one. Please choose it sincerely this time.”

 

Cynthia tilted her head and added thoughtfully.

 

“That’s odd, though. My sister hates copying other people. She’s all about being unique and special. Can’t even stand common trends. She’s kind of a… Hongdae hipster, you know?”

 

“I’m not sure what kind of disease it is, but it must’ve caught the Duke’s eye.”

 

“Oh, to wear it himself?”

 

Cynthia arrived at her conclusion without a hint of prejudice.

 

Maceira didn’t answer. It wasn’t worth the effort.

 

Even if the two were practically mortal enemies, the wedding itself was undeniably gorgeous and lavish. The entire garden, in the dead of winter, was covered with fresh flowers, it was enough to make you sigh in awe.

 

Cynthia looked around in admiration.

 

‘All this for a single day? Must’ve cost a fortune. Not that it’s my money. Not my problem. I’m not worried about the rich.’

 

Still, she figured it contributed to the economy in its own way.

 

With that thought, Cynthia stood up, heading to the buffet to grab some cake.

 

But just as she was about to scoop up a slice, her hand froze.

 

Among a group of black-haired women radiating intense auras, a hushed conversation about Helene was underway. They were speaking in a foreign languages ​​with elegant speech.

 

“I expected someone educated, being royalty and all, but she’s no different from any common noble girl.”

 

“She’d need to speak Medeian to join our conversation.”

 

Though it wasn’t the local language, Cynthia could understand them perfectly, as if their words were being translated in real time.

 

The ‘Medeia’ the ladies were talking about was one of the major imperial powers with countless colonies under its belt.

 

‘Come to think of it, black hair is a Medeian trait.’

 

She recalled hearing that the Duke’s mother was of collateral royal descent from Medeia. These women must be relatives from that same extended royal line.

 

Their sophisticated gossip continued without a hint of restraint.

 

“Still, the youngest takes after the founding royal line, doesn’t she?”

 

“Oh, there she is—the youngest princess. She’s been the talk of the social scene lately. ‘Cynthia’ was a nickname for the moon goddess Artemis, wasn’t it? Helene too. They’re all named after goddesses.”

 

‘A talk of the social scene?’

 

Cynthia tilted her head as she returned with her plate of cake.

 

What kind of topic is it? Probably that whole mess at the engagement party.

 

“Cindy.”

 

A familiar voice made her blink and turn around.

 

Carlos, who was well-dressed, was looking at her with a cheerful glint in his eye.

 

“Did you get all dressed up just for me? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

 

Cynthia glanced down at her outfit, then looked back up with narrowed eyes.

 

“Nope. Women dress up to impress other women.”

 

Most of the time, when women put real effort into their looks, it was to hear things like ‘Queen, you slayed’ or ‘Take my heart, big sister’. All that attention from fellow women, that was the real reward.

 

Carlos coughed awkwardly and said.

 

“You’ve really changed… You used to be so sweet, always listened, always smiling.”

 

‘Always listen.’ Now that rubbed her the wrong way. Cynthia let out a tired sigh.

 

At that moment, Carlos lowered his head toward her and whispered softly. “Three of your attendants are dead.”

 

Cynthia smiled again, unfazed.

 

“They were smuggling military supplies. I nearly broke my back trying to keep the Count’s house out of the fallout.”

 

“I figured you weren’t behind it. Maybe if it was an accident like before, but you don’t have the guts to pull something like that. My guess is the brigadier general took care of it because of the engagement fiasco.”

 

Cynthia said nothing.

 

“He’s a cruel man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill his fiancée’s servants. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”

 

It was a warning not to even think about asking Maceira for help.

 

“Cindy, once you’re married, you’d better keep yourself in check. Things’ll get messy if a baby gets involved. I doubt he’d treat you any better just because you’re carrying his child.”

 

Under the sunlight, Cynthia stared blankly into space, saying nothing for a long while. Then, finally she broke the long silence and opened her mouth.

 

“Are you done with your monologue of nonsense? I’ve got cake to eat.”

 

“When did I ever say nonsense?”

 

“Hmm… Pretty sure no one asked for your thoughts. Wasn’t your type something like a sweet, obedient, childless divorcée?”

 

Carlos looked dumbfounded, realizing she hadn’t been listening to a word he said.

 

Meanwhile, Maceira was watching the two from afar.

 

It was just a conversation, and yet, he didn’t like it. At all. Maybe it wasn’t just mild irritation anymore.

 

At some point, that bright, pristine woman had started affecting his mood.

 

Click.

 

The sound of a dessert plate being set down. Cynthia, cheeks flushed, smiled at him.

 

“You like this kind, right? Let’s eat together. Though… the cake’s totally frozen.”

 

“Fascinating,” Maceira replied flatly, eyes drifting elsewhere.

 

“Come on, time to act lovey-dovey again.”

 

In an unusual show of generosity, Cynthia offered him the strawberry on top.

 

Aware of Carlos watching, Maceira obediently took the bite.

 

A second later, a loud crunch echoed as the frozen strawberry shattered in his mouth.

 

“…….”

 

“Tch, I told you it was frozen!”

 

* * *

 

The ceremony eventually came to an end. The Duke and Helene headed off to change into their outfits for the reception.

 

The Duke smiled proudly to himself, convinced that he had pulled off a wedding no one could possibly top.

 

‘Maceira, you lowborn brat—try copying this. Even if you do, you’d be throwing money on a fake.’

 

As he savored his silent satisfaction, Helene turned to him with a grateful smile.

 

“I’m genuinely touched by the special dress you prepared yourself.”

 

Until now, their relationship had been stiff and businesslike, just a classic political marriage.

 

The refined mockery from her powerful in-laws, a collateral royal of a powerful country, also caused her considerable stress.

 

In the midst of all this, the Duke’s unexpected sincerity, one she never expected, moved her deeply.

 

Today, at least, she let herself believe she was the happiest woman in the world.

 

As the reception unfolded and guests came to offer their congratulations, one of the Duke’s noble relatives, another black-haired Medeian lady, spoke about Helene’s wedding dress.

 

“You wore Mary Siren’s wedding dress. I heard that you have to wait at least a few years to commission it.”

 

“Yes. He went to great lengths. I’m very grateful.”

 

Helene’s cheeks flushed with warmth.

 

The lady stroked her black hair and gave her a graceful smile.

 

“Is that so? I heard Brigadier Vicente sourced the pearls and diamonds himself for the princess, was it canceled, I wonder? Still, getting your hands on something like that….”

 

“Madam!”

 

Someone nearby rushed to hush her.

 

The remark was far too loaded, a clear attempt to humiliate the Duke’s family. The Duke’s mother turned crimson with rage.

 

Helene’s expression turned icy pale.

 

‘That dress was made by Brigadier General Vicente for Cynthia? The Duke made me wear that?’

 

Helene’s clenched hands trembled.

 

Meanwhile, Cynthia, who had no idea that the dress was made just for her, stood there wide-eyed, mouth agape.