The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner Chapter 27

On the other hand, Brigadier General Steve, who had already planned to withdraw funds and sabotage the operation, let out a mocking snort.

 

He and Maceira had been rivals for years.

 

‘Starting with the mountain range least likely to produce results? Does he seriously think there’s oil buried there? He’s digging his own grave.’

 

“There’s no need to be foolish.”

 

He spoke openly and stood up. He then lowered his voice so that only those around him could hear.

 

“Let’s be real, the project’s bound to fail. It’s obvious he’s trying to drag things out and squeeze more money out of us.”

 

Those who had been on the fence finally made up their minds to pull their investments.

 

Considering Brigadier General Steve had invested quite a large amount, the loss should have been significant, but Maceira looked completely unbothered.

 

Meanwhile, Cynthia was secretly scoffing at them.

 

‘There will soon come a time when you will regret so much that you will desperately wish to turn back time, you idiots.’

 

* * *

 

After the banquet, I trailed behind Maceira, hesitating with every step.

 

‘What should I say? Thanks for pretending to be a loving fiance? Ask what his intentions are? Maybe tell him to stop calling me ‘princess’ because it’s cringe? Why does he even believe me?’

 

Lost in thought, I suddenly walked right into his back when he came to a stop.

 

“Ouch.”

 

Maceira looked down at me rubbing my nose, his eyes the color of twilight.

 

“Are you planning to follow me all the way to my room?”

 

“Yes.”

 

I nodded instinctively, only to panic when his already expressionless face turned downright cold.

 

“No, I mean, I had something to say.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“It vanished.”

 

I had not actually finished organizing my thoughts. I was hoping to gather myself by the time we reached his door.

 

“Aside from luck, do you have any actual evidence? I need to be certain, since I took a risk based on what you said.”

 

It was rare for Maceira to ask questions, he usually ended conversations with full stops.

 

‘I’m a modern person from the future, and this world was written based on actual history and geography, so what I said is true.’

 

If I said that out loud, I would be locked up in a mental ward. So instead, I decided to offer something more believable.

 

“There’s a document my mother left behind. It mentions a ‘hidden inheritance.’”

 

Technically, not a lie.

 

Back when I was a maid, I once glimpsed a classified Bariesa royal document while cleaning the Count’s office.

 

They didn’t bother safeguarding it properly, assuming servants couldn’t read cultured language.

 

… The hidden inheritance shall be passed on to Princess Margareta. It was left somewhere only she would know.

 

Even the Count didn’t seem to know what it actually was. But I did, I knew that inheritance was the oil buried in Nox.

 

In reality, after spending billions and searching for over a decade, they were on the verge of giving up when a random earthquake finally revealed the oil beneath the least likely mountain range.

 

So yes, I was the godsend who could save them ten years and a whole lot of money. They should be grateful!

 

Not that I could exactly brag about that. Ugh, this is so frustrating.

 

“Given the technology at the time, I think it was meant to be found and used by future generations.”

 

“What if.”

 

He leaned closer to me.

 

“What if I put my full trust in you, and it ends in disaster?”

 

Did he mean if the development failed? Or if I turned out to be colluding with the Queensguards to manipulate him?

 

…Or if he found out I wasn’t royalty and a fake?

 

“I’ll apologize.”

 

I stared down at my toes, a little deflated.

 

And I’ll take full responsibility, as much as I can.”

 

That’s why I told you the location.

 

Even if he dumped me before I could win him over properly, as long as the project succeeded and he let me live, I wouldn’t complain.

 

Though I would still stash away some retirement funds to hide out.

 

“How?”

 

His breath slightly brushed my bangs from above.

 

“I’ll work hard and pay you back. Or make it up to you… physically…”

 

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw his boots take a sharp step back.

 

“Please refrain from saying such alarming things in front of my room, especially in the middle of the night.”

 

“I meant peeling onions or something… wait, huh?”

 

I raised my head and looked at Maceira.

 

He always made the weirdest faces when talking to me, faces he wouldn’t show anyone else on a regular basis.

 

And now was no different.

 

“A princess really shouldn’t speak so casually.”

 

Ugh, again with the cringe attack.

 

“I, um, just feel awkward being called Princess.”

 

“Then what should I call you?” 

 

“Something sweet and cute, like… Pudding? Or Chocolate?”

 

“Isn’t that more awkward and uncomfortable?”

 

I didn’t mind most nicknames, but for some reason, being called ‘Princess’ felt uncomfortable. Maybe it pricked at my conscience.

 

“Then how about we just use each other’s names?”

 

“That sounds even more inappropriate.”

 

Apparently, he decided this conversation was going nowhere because he turned to go inside.

 

I grabbed the hem of his uniform.

 

“Hey, wait a minute! Sir Maceira! I just remembered what I wanted to say!”

 

“Let’s just pretend you didn’t, Miss Cynthia.”

 

That was the moment I realized calling each other by name wasn’t going to work either.

 

I clung to the doorknob he was trying to close.

 

“Ahh! My fingers! You’re going to slice them off!”

 

My little outburst made the heavy door hesitate for a moment. 

 

With my face squished against the doorframe, I mumbled like a mosquito,

 

“Thank you for believing me. And… for being on my side today.”

 

There was silence for a moment.

 

Through the cracked door, I spotted his desk, and three macaron boxes stacked neatly on top.

 

“Hey! Are those the macarons I bought? Or did you steal the other officers’ macarons? Bad! Greedy!”

 

“…Please finish your gratitude and leave, Princess.”

 

From behind the door, his hand emerged to shoo me away, like I was an annoying fly. Then slammed the door shut.

 

‘That man’s going to be the type of regretful ex who’s like a stiff diatomaceous bath mat. I swear I’ll turn him into a soft, fluffy microfiber foot towel before I leave him!’

 

I turned away with renewed determination.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the officer’s kitchen was unusually quiet.

 

One of the servants returned just in time for the shift change, tied on her apron, and sighed.

 

“See? He never really cared about us. Only says thank you when he needs something…”

 

“Shhh!” Another maid quickly gestures for silence.

 

“What? Why–”

 

The bewildered servant was startled when he saw someone.

 

It was because she had spotted the woman peeking her white-haired head out from behind the pantry shelf.

 

“Did you see a ghost? Why are you so surprised?”

 

It was Cynthia, eyes red as if she’d been crying. For some reason, she was peeling onions.

 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that…” the flustered maid stammered.

 

“How much the brigadier general has neglected you in the past. You must be upset.” Cynthia muttered.

 

“That’s not what I meant!”

 

On the verge of tears, the maid looked about ready to collapse.

 

Cynthia, who had come to the kitchen all cheerful, started chattering nonstop, how everyone had raved about the banquet, how the major general had teared up a little when the ratatouille reminded him of his father, and so on.

 

Fed up with her endless babbling, the Chef Jad sarcastically told her to peel onions if she was so bored, and she actually did.

 

“I’m telling you, Major General Izak said…”

 

Just as she was about to start again, a group of soldiers marched into the kitchen carrying cookie boxes.

 

“These are gifts from Major General Izak to the chef and kitchen staff. He said he was deeply moved by last night’s meal and hopes to visit again.”

 

They delivered the message with a salute and marched right back out.

 

It was proof that Cynthia hadn’t taken all the credit for the banquet herself.

 

Everyone in the kitchen widened their eyes in surprise.

 

Realizing how wrong they had been about her, the maids flushed with embarrassment. One of them stepped forward and apologized.

 

“I’m so sorry for being rude to you, Princess. I’m ashamed of myself for judging you so rashly.”

 

Her courage sparked a domino effect, everyone apologized in turn.

 

“If you’re really sorry, come peel onions with me. There’s too many and they’re making me cry.”

 

At Cynthia’s request, the maids all sat down beside her, sniffling as they peeled onions.

 

It looked like a heartwarming reconciliation scene, but really, those onions were just ridiculously strong.

 

‘Yes! I’ve got the kitchen staff on my side now. Time to start requesting late-night snacks every day.’

 

Grinning to herself, Cynthia finally relaxed, free of the awkward tension she had been feeling.

 

At that moment, Dahlia, whose face was flushed from running around for a while, entered the kitchen.

 

“Princess! There you are! You have a visitor. Also… why are you crying while peeling onions?”

 

“I peel onions when I’m sad. Who is the guest?”

 

“It’s Major Rodriguez.”