The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner Chapter 31 - The Beginning of a Ridiculously Lucky Marriage

As expected of a national war hero’s wedding, the guest list didn’t just include the elite of Luthemia, plenty of dignitaries from across the Federal Union had shown up as well.

 

In the bridal waiting room, Cynthia sat quietly in a simple A-line dress with a translucent veil draped over her head, no frills, no jewels, just plain white fabric.

 

Dahlia, who had been smoothing out her hair, glanced out the window at the thick gray clouds and let out a quiet sigh.

 

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t snow too much.’

 

Given that the Republic of Luthemia was practically a snowy wasteland, it was tradition that sunshine on your wedding day meant a blessing from the goddess. Snow, on the other hand, especially for soldiers who prided themselves on strength and resilience, could be a bad omen, since most of them held their ceremonies outdoors.

 

Meanwhile, Cynthia had a very different concern.

 

‘It’s probably freezing out there, huh? If it snows during the ceremony, are they gonna drag me off to some “Survive the Tundra” training session or something?’

 

After checking the last detail of her look, Dahlia finally spoke.

 

“Lady Cynthia, it’s time to move to the ceremonial waiting room.”

 

What even was marriage?

 

Even if this is her second life, Cynthia had never gotten married before. Despite her usual nonchalance, even she felt the nerves creeping in.

 

* * *

 

Count Queensguard entered the room, along with Carlos and Edford.

 

“That’s your dress? You made such a fuss about marrying a rich officer and that’s what you chose?”

 

Edford scoffed at the sight of Cynthia’s plain wedding dress.

 

Cynthia fiddled with her veil and tilted her head.

 

“This costs more than what our sister wore.”

 

“That plain rag with not a single gem on it? How is that more expensive?”

 

Edford chuckled mockingly.

 

All the sweet rumors about her and the brigadier general must have been nothing but a pretense. In reality, it seemed she was being cast aside, just as he had hoped.

 

He began to drift into fantasies of Cynthia groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness.

 

Meanwhile, Carlos stood silently beside them, his expression dark with displeasure.

 

The Count leaned toward Cynthia and muttered in a low voice.

 

“Cynthia, make sure you behave yourself so you don’t get thrown out after the wedding. Want some advice on how to please a husband? Start with small compliments and a warm smile—”

 

“Yes, okay.”

 

Cynthia cut him off mid-sentence with a half-hearted reply.

 

A servant entered to announce that the duke and duchess had arrived.

 

“We should go greet them,” said the Count, straightening his coat before leaving with Carlos.

 

Edford, who looked like he still had plenty left to say, stayed behind.

 

“You’re regretting not running away with me, aren’t you?”

 

Cynthia stared at him like he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

 

“Where did that come from?”

 

“Hmph. Acting all lovey-dovey won’t fool anyone. People talk, you know. I heard the brigadier general despises the royal family.”

 

For once, he had actually said something true. Though it still deserved a punch in the face.

 

Seeing the disgusted look on her face, Edford seemed convinced he had hit a nerve. His smugness only grew.

 

“It’s not too late, you know. But if you want me back, you’ll have to work for it.”

 

“If the world ends and you’re the only one left, I still wouldn’t like you. My only job is to make sure the world doesn’t come to that.”

 

“Still clinging to that pride, huh?”

 

It was like talking to a brick wall. Cynthia sighed, muttering under her breath.

 

“Maybe I should just raise the destruction flag where everyone dies….”

 

But Edford clung to her like a wet rag.

 

“You’re being forced into this marriage, right? Deep down, you’re hoping I’ll grab your hand and pull you out of here during the ceremony. I’m willing to throw away everything I have for you.”

 

“Then should I go tattle to your father and make sure you lose everything right now?”

 

Cynthia’s voice turned icy, just in time for the door to swing open again. The Count had returned.

 

Edford clamped his mouth shut, startled by his father’s sudden appearance.

 

“Your sister is here, Cynthia,” the Count said, voice syrupy sweet, a sure sign the Duke and Helene had arrived.

 

The Duke offered his polite congratulations with a gentle smile, while Helene stepped forward, expressing her wish to have a little sisterly chat. In other words, ‘boys, get out.’

 

Cynthia had a hunch that Helene wasn’t here to be nice.

 

Sure enough, the moment they were alone, Helene’s expression turned fierce.

 

“You really buttered up the dowager and aunts, didn’t you? All they could talk about was your honeymoon plans.”

 

“Why are you scolding me for that…?”

 

Helene loomed over Cynthia, her gaze still laced with venom. It was obvious that Cynthia was wearing a plain dress to get her cursed at as the ‘sister who stole the dress’.

 

“I didn’t covet your dress, okay? The designer just mixed up the orders.”

 

“Then why are you only saying that now…?”

 

Cynthia’s innocent tone hit Helene like a slap. She massaged her forehead, trying to rein in her temper.

 

“From now on, don’t even think about mingling with the ducal family.”

 

“Okay. I understand.”

 

Cynthia agreed so quickly it almost felt like mockery.

 

‘What the hell? Who reacts like that?!’

 

Helene refused to give up and launched another provocation.

 

“You’re a fake, no matter how you spin it. Just because you have married a war hero and got your name entered into our family record doesn’t mean you can forget your place.”

 

“Right.”

 

Cynthia offered a flat, disinterested reply, clearly not listening.

 

Helene blinked in disbelief.

 

People usually fought back when provoked. But this? 

 

However, Helene never thought Cynthia would be like that.

 

Helene had come in ready to lash out, but now she didn’t even know what to say.

 

“Don’t you ever get angry? Or sad? Or… feel wronged?”

 

Helene stared at her, confused.

 

Cynthia, calm and unreadable, simply smiled. She seemed like a liberated person, someone who had already burned through all their rage and resentment long ago.

 

“I do. I just don’t feel much about most things anymore.”

 

‘Was she always that sly?’

 

Before her father committed the marriage fraud, Cynthia had just been one of the many forgettable servants. If she had been this odd back then, Helene would have remembered.

 

“You… you’re definitely—”

 

Helene had just started to say something when—

 

“Lady Cynthia, it’s time to begin the ceremony.”

 

Dahlia’s voice rang out, announcing the start of the ceremony.

 

Cynthia stood and smiled sweetly, as if she had never held a grudge in her life.

 

“Sister, if you’re not walking me down the aisle, then go take your seat.”

 

* * *

 

Rumble.

 

The once-clear sky had turned stormy, and the first raindrops began to fall.

 

“What?! Rain, not snow? How ominous! It’s like the heavens themselves are warning them about their doomed marriage!”

 

Someone in the crowd cried out in glee.

 

Rain and thunder on a wedding day were widely considered a divine expression of sorrow, a dreadful omen.

 

Under the canopy, guests clicked their tongues and muttered amongst themselves.

 

“So much for the goddess of fortune watching over her.”

 

“Dodging a thousand arrows? Come on, that’s not even scientifically possible.”

 

‘And predicting marital happiness from the weather is scientific?’

 

The kitchen staff, now loyal Cynthia supporters, pouted in irritation.

 

Meanwhile, the attending reporters furiously scribbled in their notepads.

 

「A Marriage Under Storm Clouds — The Separation and Divorce Rumors Were True All Along?」

 

Dahlia, who had been watching with a burning gaze from behind, snatched the reporter’s notebook with force.

 

“Ugh!”

 

“Excuse me, but the ceremony hasn’t even started yet. Would you mind not spreading baseless rumors?”

 

At that moment, the bride’s entrance was announced, and Cynthia appeared.

 

“What is that dress?”

 

A different kind of buzz swept through the guests.

 

And who could blame them?

 

Cynthia walked in wearing a plain, patternless gown so simple it made her light lavender bouquet the only noticeable detail.

 

“The bouquet is made of jewels? Did she spend the whole budget on the bouquet?”

 

Mocking chuckles rippled through the crowd.

 

But deep down, everyone was thinking the same thing.

 

‘That bouquet is no joke. You would need serious guts to even catch it. Even if it hits and breaks my head, I will receive that bouquet.’

 

It was the moment when each person’s desires intersected.

 

“Huh?”

 

Gasps rang out.

 

A single beam of sunlight broke through the stormy clouds and fell directly on Cynthia, illuminating her like the main character.

 

The plain, matte gown lit up under the sunlight, radiating rainbow hues like it was woven from diamonds.

 

The dazzling effect was sheer coincidence.

 

One guest recognized the fabric and gasped.

 

“Wait… that dress—was it made with diamond thread?”

 

“That’s even possible?”

 

“So that means the dress is diamond itself?”

 

“You know how much that would cost?!”

 

Cynthia beamed. At the same time, a halo appeared behind her head.

 

The exquisitely crafted bouquet caught the sunlight and reflected it behind her, creating a divine aura like something out of a painting of a saint.

 

“…God.”

 

Someone muttered in awe, utterly entranced.

 

The moment was so breathtaking, it felt sacred.

 

“Maybe the one making God cry… was us, too busy judging to offer a single blessing.”