The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner Chapter 22

After picking up everything she needed in the shopping district, Cynthia and Dahlia headed to a cafe to share a winter strawberry parfait. Then they munched their way through street waffles, donuts, crepes, and buttered corn.

“We’re not done yet, Dahlia. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“Please remember, my lady, that wasting food is a sin.”

With both arms full of snacks, Dahlia proved to be quite the big eater. Cynthia felt as though she had finally met a kindred spirit, her soul’s true eating soulmate.

‘She didn’t seem bothered at all, though.’

Cynthia glanced at the crowd of escorts trailing behind them and thought of Maceira’s blank expression.

‘Seriously, what is with that guy? So hard to read.’

She gripped the handle of her parasol and sighed. Before leaving the residence, she had asked him one more time if he wanted to come along. He had refused her without a hint of hesitation.

When she jokingly said it was basically a date, he looked at her like she had committed the gravest of offenses.

“Dahlia, is the Brigadier General always that stiff and awkward?”

“Yes.”

Dahlia nodded, having already finished off the corn.

“He’s probably never had a girlfriend either, did he?”

It was the classic trope, romance fantasy male leads are always hopelessly inexperienced and usually single. So the answer should’ve been obvious, but she couldn’t help being curious about his past.

All Cynthia really knew was that Maceira had grown up as a war orphan.

“He never had the time.”

“Right. He was probably always out on the battlefield for campaigns.”

“That’s true, but he’s someone who doesn’t have much free time.”

Dahlia’s thoughts drifted to the Maceira of the past.

Emotionless eyes, a heavy, desolate air about him. Calm and composed, yet cold to the core, but somehow, still capable of surprising kindness.

He never abandoned his subordinates on the battlefield, and when the war ended, he took in the veterans who were rejected by society.

Dahlia’s amber eyes turned to Cynthia, who was smiling brightly beneath her parasol.

‘Maybe… that warm, cheerful princess…’

…might be able to fill the shadows trailing behind the Brigadier General with light.

* * *

While Cynthia and Dahlia were out shopping, the designer from Mary Siren stopped by the residence to apologize.

“I’m truly sorry. A new employee came that day, and she disappeared in the middle of everything along with the dress.”

“I understand. Just make a new one.”

Maceira nodded, showing rare patience for the man whose creation had been stolen.

The designer clenched both fists in resolve.

“You saved my life when I was nearly killed by those bandits, Brigadier General. I can assure you that I’ll make you a masterpiece of the century that will never be made again.”

“As I told you before, it doesn’t need to be anything fancy.”

Maceira pulled a paper from his coat, signed it, and handed it over.

“This time, let’s not put a limit on the cost.”

His expression was its usual stern mask, yet there was something unusually determined behind his eyes.

The designer blinked in disbelief, biting back the words, ‘How is this ‘nothing fancy’?!’

Instead, he vowed to create a dress that would be incomparable to the dress the Duchess wore.

After the designer left, fired up with newfound resolve, Eugene approached Maceira, who was sitting alone in the garden sipping tea.

“Uncle, I don’t like the white-haired sister.”

Eugene had been diligently carrying out his own operation to get Cynthia kicked out.

However, the frog and bug offerings only earned him her gratitude and a guilty conscience. When he stuffed snow down her clothes, she just sang, “Do you wanna build a snowman?” and trailed after him all day.

Every one of his grand schemes had failed. Which meant it was time for a direct approach, so Eugene decided to speak to Maceira.

After all, Cynthia was no ordinary opponent.

“Why?”

Maceira set down his teacup and asked.

Eugene sat across from him with a serious look on his face.

“She’s a white-haired villain. Don’t marry her. I’ll marry her instead and take the suffering for you.”

Maceira shook her head with a serious expression to match Eugene’s solemn tone.

“I have no choice. I proposed to her first.”

“Uncle said he loved her first?”

Eugene’s eyes widened in shock. In his world, marriage is equal to love. He had thought that the wicked princess had forced his uncle into it. The idea that Uncle Maceira had proposed willingly threw him completely.

In fact, Eugene carried a deep fear of being abandoned after the wedding. That the wicked princess who had taken over the household would say something like, “Throw that brat away.”

This fear had been carefully influenced by the staff, the officers, and tutors who harbored hostility toward the royal family.

“Does she also kiss you and bully you?”

Maceira’s hand twitched slightly as he lifted his teacup.

“You really won’t come with me? Actually, I’m asking you out on a date….”

Maceira recalled Cynthia’s flushed cheeks and her innocent smile.

Plenty of women had tried to court him, but something about her was different. That strange feeling he had when they first met, he decided to label it as ‘discomfort’.

Eugene nodded like he had just confirmed something terrible after watching Maceira’s expression.

“Sigh… What a wicked villain. But I can’t beat her right now. I’ll make her cry buckets once I grow up.”

“I already made her cry.”

Eugene, who was eating a cookie, looked surprised once again at Maceira’s words.

“So that older sister is taking revenge on me instead?”

“No, you little villain.”

Cynthia’s voice cut in out of nowhere.

Eugene yelped and scrambled to hide behind Maceira.

As Maceira crossed his legs and sipped his tea, he spoke in his usual dry tone.

“So, did you enjoy spending all that money?”

At his arrogant tone, Cynthia held her chin high with a smug smile.

“Of course.”

She proudly handed him a long receipt.

Instead of luxury dresses, shoes, or jewelry, the list was packed with nonsense: aquarium decorations, sweater yarn, dog plushies… and what in the world were the hammer and saw for?

Not that she’d held back, either. She spent plenty.

“What’s the aquarium stuff for? You don’t even have fish.”

“I’m decorating a winter home for the frogs in hibernation.”

At her reply, Eugene perked up with curiosity, only to quickly cover his mouth to pretend like he wasn’t interested.

Maceira, looking like he was nearing his limit, pointed at the yarn.

Don’t tell me you’re knitting sweaters? Just so we’re clear, I’m not wearing one..”

He imagined Cynthia making some strangely designed sweater for him.

“No, no. The cat in the garden gave birth, remember? I’m making tiny sweaters for the kittens so they don’t freeze.”

“Well… that’s a relief. The hammer and saw still seem suspicious, though.”

“I’m building the cat family a warm little house.”

Maceira had a gut feeling that he would be the one building it.

At that moment, Cynthia retrieved a gift box the servants had been carrying and held it out to him.

It was a bribe meant to be shared with the officers.

“These are macarons from a famous dessert shop. I had to wait in line forever. I even bought ingredients for dinner tonight, so we can treat the officers.”

Maceira stared at her in silence.

She was clearly trying her best, but whether any of it would work was another matter entirely.

“Eugene, try one. Then later, let’s decorate the frog’s house together.”

She smiled and offered Eugene a macaron.

Eugene reached for it instinctively, but then froze and backed away.

“Don’t get close to people with white hair, Eugene. You’ll end up hated just like them. The Essat people were monsters who spread plagues.”

This was because Hayden’s words, his tutor, came to mind.

He had shown Eugene frightening picture books filled with pale-haired monsters that ate people, enough to instill fear in the child.

‘If they find out my mother had white hair too… Everyone will hate me, won’t they?’

Eugene’s mother was also an Essatian.

Even as he kept his distance, Eugene often found himself unconsciously drifting toward Cynthia. Because whenever he looked at her, he remembered his mother.

Confused and overwhelmed, he ran away with a pale face.

 

“Hello, Eugene! It’s been a while. You’ve grown a lot.”

As he wandered the garden in a daze, a white-haired officer greeted him cheerfully.

He was an Essatian soldier who had fled to the Federation before the Empire conquered their homeland.

The Federation, which the Republic of Luthemia was a part of, had accepted large numbers of Essatian refugees and war survivors.

Hayden, Eugene’s tutor, was one of them. He had brought with her a deep hatred for the Essat people.

“Don’t act friendly to me! You white-haired monster!”

Eugene clenched his fists and shouted.

The officer’s smile faltered, looking wounded, and Eugene’s green eyes flickered with guilt.

He hated himself for doing it, but he didn’t want to be kicked out either.

“…Monster?”

And then Cynthia appeared, having followed Eugene out of concern, and saw the whole thing.