The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner – Chapter 25

Author: amourtentia

“She told the officers that she was taking charge himself. If she makes a fool of herself, maybe she’ll finally stop interfering and acting like she knows everything.”

After the private tutor, Hayden, left them with those parting words, the servants stared at the tomato sauce in deep thought.

“The princess said she would take responsibility anyway. If she’s trying to use us to earn praise, then she better be ready to take the fall too.”

One of the servants grabbed the salt shaker and gave it a few sharp taps over the finished sauce.

If it was too much, it would be obvious they were sabotaging the dish, just a slight imbalance in seasoning would do the trick.

Later, when it was almost time to plate the food, Cynthia entered the kitchen.

“Do you mind if I taste it?”

The servants hadn’t expected her to actually show up, and though they were caught off guard at first, they quickly hid their surprise behind smug, silent smirks. Just imagining her helpless face made them feel a little better.

‘Just try it.’

Chef Jad, completely unaware of the sabotage, offered her a plate of ratatouille with a proud smile.

“Please, have a taste. I’m probably the best ratatouille maker in the world.”

Cynthia took a bite and made a mysterious expression.

The servants, watching closely, braced for her reaction, only for her face to suddenly light up with a bright smile.

“Wow, so this is what the original tastes like! The vegetables are cooked perfectly, and the clean sweetness brings out the natural flavor harmony. It’s got such a rich, savory depth.”

‘Delicious? And it’s not salty, it’s sweet?’

The servants looked at each other in bewilderment at her glowing praise.

Even Chef Jad, who had tasted the sauce earlier, looked puzzled.

“Huh, that’s odd. It didn’t taste like this before. But actually… maybe the added salt takes away the tomato’s acidity and makes it better?”

“Did someone add salt? You know how adding salt to something sweet can actually enhance the sweetness, right? That clean, sweet aftertaste really stands out.”

The servants all turned toward the salt shaker at once.

Those who hadn’t properly learned how to cook had no way of knowing that salt brought out the sweetness. Nor did they know the right amount to completely ruin a dish, so instead, they had accidentally made it better.

Then Cynthia turned to the servants who had helped with the meal, her expression suddenly serious.

“I noticed earlier that some of you didn’t seem very happy. I thought you might try to mess with the food, so I came to check. I didn’t expect to find people who genuinely care about what they’re making. I judged you unfairly, and I’m truly sorry. You’re all amazing cooks.”

The servant who had poured the salt turned beet red at her apology.

Cynthia gave a bright, innocent smile.

“I have always thought the food at the official residence was delicious. I wanted a chance to say hello, and to thank everyone who works so hard behind the scenes. So please take care of me until the end.”

As everyone stood there dumbfounded, Cynthia turned to leave and gave Jad a wave.

“Oh, and about earlier, sorry for calling you the Medeian Chef! That was out of line!”

Once she was gone, one of the servants muttered bitterly, unwilling to admit Cynthia might actually be a good person.

“She’s so pretentious. Just wait and see, that woman will take all the credit for the food and try to get recognition.”

She had to be a bad person, no matter what. Otherwise, they would become the bad person.

* * *

As he returned from a brief outing, Maceira spotted several officers leaving the building.

Unaware of his presence, a colonel and lieutenant colonel began gossiping.

“She gave out cookies to the officers? What a joke. I nearly broke a sweat pretending to be happy.”

“Captain Cherta’s wife had luxury watches engraved as gifts. You really can’t compare. No wonder he got promoted.”

With the war over, promotions were no longer based on battlefield merit, and internal politics had become increasingly overheated.

As a result, a wife’s role was quite important.

She was expected to be a skilled supporter and a savvy strategist, expanding her husband’s network and managing his image to help their husbands get promoted.

“Would a country bumpkin princess who has lived her entire life hiding in the countryside can actually pull off the role of proper military wife?”

“The brigadier general is a talented person who even the Queen of Medeia has her eye on, so I don’t understand why he wants to marry a fallen royalty.”

“Maybe he’s planning to use her and dump her later. He tries to act indifferent, but you can tell he can’t stand her.”

With a sneer, the colonel tossed a box of macarons into the road.

Watching them walk away, Maceira pulled out his notebook and jotted something down.

When he returned to the residence, he handed the note to his aide, Diego.

“Exclude these two people listed here from all invitation lists.”

“Did something happen?”

Diego glanced at the macaron box in Maceira’s hand.

He received it from Cynthia earlier, and now he’s bringing it back. Did he extort it from a lower-ranking officer?

Maceira stared at the box for a moment, then said just one thing.

“They are disrespectful.”

It wasn’t a matter that ended with simply not sending an invitation.

Maceira wasn’t just anyone, he was a celebrated war hero.

Being excluded from his events would mark them as troublemakers. In other words, their chances of promotion were basically over.

* * *

That evening, the officers gathered in the banquet hall.

Among them was Captain Declan, who had a grudge against Cynthia.

Most of the attendees didn’t care much about the dinner Cynthia had prepared. Tthey were there to talk about the Wasteland Development Project.

When ratatouille was brought out as the main course, Captain Declan scoffed.

‘Trying to score points with some populist message by serving commoners’ food from Francia? What a predictable and stale method.’

It was a tactic several officers’ wives had tried already.

Sure, it was applauded the first time, but now it was overdone and cliche. Worse, it could be seen as patronizing to officers of common birth.

And sure enough, some of the lower-born officers looked visibly uncomfortable.

Captain Declan did not miss this opportunity.

“Such a humble dish, Your Highness. May I ask why you chose to serve ratatouille tonight?”

He already knew what she was going to say, some sob story about the suffering of Francia’s commoners at the hands of the royal family. He had heard it so often he could recite it himself.

She was royalty too. Was this supposed to be some kind of self-flagellation?

“Wait, what is considered commoners’ food, anyway? Everyone keeps saying that, but to me it’s just… delicious food.”

Cynthia asked a question that caught him completely off guard.

Cynthia saw that Captain Declan could not answer right away and said.

“Let me answer first. It’s the food in my favorite story. There’s this super-talented rat who controls a human and cooks through him—”

“A rat? Are you trying to spread disease or something?”

Another officer wrinkled his nose in disgust.

‘Now that I think about it, it might sound strange.’

Clearing her throat, Cynthia gave a brief summary of the movie’s plot.

The officers leaned in, captivated. There was something magnetic about the way she told a story.

“So… does the rat become a real chef in the end?”

The officer, who was so immersed that he even started rooting for the main character, asked.

“Of course! The story’s message is: ‘Anyone can cook’. At first, he’s just a filthy rat, but once you know the full story, you start to see him as a clever, lovable chef, right?”

“That’s true. This food also looks kind of special now.”

Captain Declan scowled and clenched his fork. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Well, I understand your thoughts and intentions about the food, Princess. But whatever the meaning, if it doesn’t taste good, it’s meaningless.”

It means that if it tastes bad, it’s useless.

Since everyone’s taste is different, evaluations can only be subjective. With smug confidence, he took a big bite of the ratatouille.

“This tastes….”

It was genuinely delicious. Too good to criticize. Unable to come up with a retort, he simply frowned and forced himself to look serious.

“It’s good.”

At that moment, Maceira, who had been quietly observing without a word, spoke up.

The rest of the officers, who had been watching, chimed in with their own compliments.

“You must have worked so hard to prepare all this, Princess.”

Maceira turned to Cynthia with his characteristic social smile.