The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner Chapter 17

The Duke, whose expression had been delicately balanced between cordial and guarded, finally broke into a perfect smile. It was the typical gentle smile only nobles could pull off as he said, “Fascinating. Perhaps that old saying about reading one’s thoughts isn’t so baseless after all.”

 

It wasn’t anything special. She’d just developed good instincts from surviving a war. When you’re at war, not being quick on the uptake gets you killed.

 

The Duke offered his hand to escort her.

 

“It’s nearly time for the evening banquet anyway. Why don’t we go together? The brigadier general should be heading straight to the dining hall. I’ve been hoping to speak with you, Princess.”

 

He clearly had some ulterior motives, including the fact that he had snatched the dress, but trying to find Maceira in this enormous mansion would’ve been a fool’s errand. So she figured she might as well get a meal out of it.

 

“The brigadier general seems rather indifferent. Doesn’t it bother you?”

 

The Duke asked with a curious tilt of his head. Cynthia shook hers immediately.

 

Even if he found out the truth, she needed Maceira to say something like, “I’ve grown too fond of her… I can’t bring myself to kill her. I’ll just pretend I don’t know.” So, she had to stay on his good side.

 

The Duke added. “He was an orphan of war, after all. His values must differ greatly from those of us raised as nobles.”

 

Cynthia fell silent for a moment and looked up at him.

 

‘Why’s he bringing that up to me?’

 

The thought of the path Maceira must’ve walked, alone and brutal, made a corner of her heart ache.

 

She replies calmly, “When you acknowledge how different someone is from you, there’s nothing to feel upset about. Conflict always comes from mismatched expectations, doesn’t it?”

 

Of course, she wasn’t laying her heart bare. She made sure to sound thoughtful and refined. The Duke was clearly hoping she’d say something empathetic about Maceira.

 

He met her gaze with interest.

 

“Acknowledgement, is it? I’d like to hear more about that.”

 

‘I don’t know much either because I read that line in a self-help relationship book.’

 

The Duke was now looking at her like a university professor who’d just discovered a prodigy.

 

“Well, everyone’s got a different background. That’s why we all have different personalities, tendencies, values, priorities… even taste buds. Learning to accept those differences and find middle ground is what we call ‘understanding.’ Which reminds me, when I was back in my hometown, there was this one time during winter…”

 

Cynthia launched into a lengthy story, sounding like a baseball player known for his never-ending press interviews. The goal was simple: keep talking until they reached the banquet hall so she wouldn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions.

 

“…Understanding, indeed.”

 

The duke nodded along, sounding genuinely moved. Then he gave her a small smile.

 

“The brigadier general has found himself a wonderful companion.”

 

He seemed very interested in Maceira.

 

He kept bringing him up, and there was something subtly off in his expressions when he did.  Could it be that the reason he snatched the dress was…?

 

Cynthia couldn’t help but imagine the Duke tearing their wedding photo in half, gluing his own picture next to Maceira, and lovingly smoothing out the crease.

 

It made her shiver.

 

‘Okay, my imagination, let’s not go there. Please.’

 

* * *

 

When they arrived at the banquet hall, the Queensguard family was already seated, along with a group of elegant, icy-eyed ladies with jet-black hair.

 

A set of green eyes, each a slightly different hue, locked onto Cynthia.

 

‘Those three ladies, they are no joke.’

 

Cynthia shrank a little under their frosty gazes.

 

“Please, have a seat.”

 

The Dowager Duchess gestured to Cynthia.

 

The duke politely pulled out a chair for Cynthia and said.

 

“I thought it might be nice to chat on the way over, so I personally escorted Her Highness to dinner.”

 

“I see. Judging by the princess’s expression, it seems the conversation was an enjoyable one.”

 

Cynthia had always had a naturally cheerful expression, but the Dowager Duchess assumed her relaxed demeanor meant any misunderstandings about the dress had been resolved.

 

Which, to be fair, was exactly what the Duke had intended.

 

Helene glanced at the two of them, then gave a nod.

 

‘Was there really a need to explain things to a maid pretending to be a princess?’

 

She instinctively sensed their conversation had gone elsewhere.

 

Then the dining hall doors opened again. Maceira returned, a dusting of snow still clinging to the shoulders of his coat.

 

Cynthia leaned in and whispered as he took the seat beside her.

 

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

 

Not that she’d actually searched for him. But she made it sound like she had searched the entire mansion.

 

“Why must you insist on knowing every little thing?” He also lowered his voice and answered.

 

“Can’t I?”

 

“I’d appreciate it if you respect my privacy.”

 

Maceira said nonchalantly, taking off her wet gloves.

 

The Duke’s remark about a ‘secret lover’. Maceira’s cold, indifferent response. Most heroines in a regretful romance would have wilted under the weight of disappointment.

 

But Cynthia didn’t think much of it.

 

‘Bet he was off making a snowman in secret. I’ll add buttons to it later.’

 

She pictured Maceira crouched in a corner sculpting a tiny snowman and grinned to herself.

 

Soon, the meal began.

 

Though both families wore polite smiles, a subtle tension lingered under the surface.

 

“I’ve prepared a traditional dish from my homeland, just for this occasion.”

 

At the Duchess Dowager’s announcement, a bizarre-looking pie was brought out, its crust bursting open to reveal a cluster of mackerel heads poking out. The hollow eyes of the mackerel looked like they were pleading for mercy, barely keeping their heads above the swamp.

 

The Queen’s Guard family’s faces showed faint bewilderment at seeing the grotesque food.

 

‘Is this meant as some kind of insult?’

 

The Count hesitated, uncertain, but eventually reached for his fork. It was only proper to taste the food and offer a polite remark.

 

But before he could, Cynthia took a bite without hesitation, and spoke up first.

 

“Oh, this is…”

 

‘Please don’t show off your ignorance and keep your mouth shut!’

 

The Count shot her a warning look, but Cynthia smiled brightly and carried on.

 

“The appearance is humble, and the ingredients seem mismatched, but it’s surprisingly harmonious and delicious.”

 

When the Count was watching the Duchess Dowager’s expression who was surprised, Edford got angry instead.

 

“You dare call something the Duchess Dowager prepared ‘humble’? That’s a delicacy enjoyed by the nobility of Medeia!”

 

Cynthia just kept smiling.

 

“But it’s not a delicacy. This is food for the commoners.”

 

“Why would a nobleman eat the food of the commoners? Think about it.”

 

Edford grumbled openly. He also hoped that Cynthia’s ignorance would be discovered and that Maceira would kick her out.

 

“Cynthia, don’t judge a book by its cover. Even a child’s scribbled drawings can actually be works of art with tremendous value.”

 

Helene also pretended to be polite and pointed out her ignorance.

 

Cynthia shook her head.

 

“Sister, this is a traditional folk dish. It’s called ‘Stargazing Mackerel Pie’ that the fishermen of the port town ate. It was made in coastal villages during winter storms when no one could fish. It commemorates the fishermen who bravely went out and caught mackerel through the snowstorm when everyone else was starving because they couldn’t catch fish.”

 

As soon as she finished, the jet-black haired ladies, including the Duchess Dowager, widened their eyes in shock.

 

“How does the princess know that? We used to eat it at festival time as young girls… It’s so rare now, hardly anyone even remembers it. Do you have a particular interest in Medea?”

 

The Duchess Dowager’s once cold tone now carried a hint of excitement.

 

“I’ve always admired Medeia deeply. Your tea culture is so refined, and you embrace such a broad range of traditions. And the spirit of chivalry and compassion for the vulnerable, there’s a lot to learn from. In fact, the elegance and dignity you and the other ladies carry… it feels like the very essence of Medeia itself.”

 

Cynthia spoke with poise and fluency. She conveniently left out Medeia’s history of brutal colonialism.

 

In truth, ever since she learned Helene’s mother-in-law was descended from Medeian royal family, she’d devoured every book she could find on the subject.

 

She’d meant to impress the in-laws, but the more she read, the more fascinated she became. The place reminded her of a country she had known in her past life.

 

She had even pestered her husband to take her there for their honeymoon.

 

Of course, the bad Maceira had ignored her.

 

‘Even Eugene had that Medeian look. Black hair, green eyes…’

 

“My goodness…”

 

The Duchess Dowager’s green eyes glistened. She was clearly touched, trying her best to maintain composure.

 

Cynthia watched the slight crinkle of her brow, an unmistakable trace of emotion, and thought, ‘She had married into a foreign country, She must really miss home. I would also feel that, living in a foreign land.’

 

The fact that she had gathered her sisters here at the Duke’s estate said everything.

 

While living alone in a foreign land, it was like when a foreigner praised, ‘Korea is amazing!’ and adds that they love kimchi and doenjang. How could you not be moved and favorably touched by that?

 

“I’m planning to go to Medeia for our honeymoon. We’ve been… delayed for various reasons, but I’m thrilled we’ll finally get to visit the country of my dreams.”

 

Cynthia added with a wistful smile.

 

It was the finishing blow. The ladies were instantly overwhelmed with sympathy and affection.

 

“I have a villa in the northern region. The coastline is beautiful!”

 

“No, no, she must stay in the capital. I’ll reserve a luxury hotel suite owned by the royal family.”

 

“What are you saying? We’re family now! She should be treated as an honored guest of the palace. I’ll put in a word with the royal household…”

 

The ladies sprang into action, enthusiastically planning Cynthia’s accommodations.

 

‘…I told you we’re not going on a honeymoon.’

 

Maceira silently sliced into his mackerel pie, swallowing his disappointment along with the fish.