The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner – Chapter 35

Author: amourtentia

Trigger Warning // Mention of war , trauma, and death.

In the end, he had promised to go along with her request. Maceira rubbed his face like a man washing his face, visibly troubled.

“…I understand.”

* * *

Back in the room, Maceira was worried the whole time.

He could tolerate the wine, cake, and fruit prepared for the newlyweds, but the roses scattered all over the room annoy him. So did the sound of running water from the bathroom.

‘What is this supposed to mean?’

Saying “Please stay with me” with that forlorn look in her eyes, was a pretty provocative gesture to a healthy man, regardless of their relationship status.

Her flushed cheeks were also strange. And she looked… beautiful.

Silvery hair like spun silk, eyes gently drooping at the corners, large and clear like glass eyes, small lips, and a soft, harmless smile.

That woman, while drying her damp hair, looked up at him and said, “The hot water works fine. I was worried I would have to do cold rinses.”

‘Beautiful?’

‘Am I really thinking this right now?’

He had been on the receiving end of all sorts of seduction, women sneaking into his bed in nothing but their skin, but not once had he lost his composure.

And yet here he was, flustered over a few harmless words?

Maceira hurried into the bathroom and made sure to get dressed properly after showering.

When he came out, Cynthia had buried herself under the blanket, completely covered from head to toe.

“I’ll just–”

He was about to say he would sleep on the couch when a light flashed outside the window. It seemed that fireworks had started.

Boom!

Since the soundproofing wasn’t very good, the sound of firecrackers exploding leaked through. Cynthia flinched under the blanket, curling into a ball.

“What’s wrong?”

That was when Maceira finally sensed something was off. He pulled the blanket back slightly to check on her.

Cynthia, who had been crouching with her ears covered, peeked her head out, and her face was pale, full of fear and panic. Her already fair skin had turned ghostly white.

It was the same face he had seen during the shooting at the engagement ceremony.

“Are you feeling unwell? If you can tell me your symptoms–”

Before he could finish, Cynthia, still trembling, buried her head back into the sheets.

“…I’m scared.”

Could it be that the sound of fireworks was scary?

Maceira immediately recalled symptoms of war trauma.

Not just soldiers; civilians, even children, suffered from it after war.

He quickly turned off all the lights in the room.

‘But that doesn’t make sense. She was somewhere the war never touched.’

The moment he was about to get up to ask a crew member for a sedative, Cynthia grabbed his hand.

“Don’t go.”

Masera looked back at her.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

He could hear her sniffling beneath the blanket.

Where was her consciousness? And who did she think she was talking to? Probably that “brother” she had called out for during the engagement.

Masera sat down next to her.

There were no signs of hyperventilation or a panic attack. Staying close seemed the best course of action.

He looked down at the pale, thin hand that desperately held his hand.

Since she always wore gloves, this was the first time he had seen Cynthia’s bare hand.

“….”

For someone born into royalty, her hand was rough.

Then he saw tears soaking into the sheets where her face was hidden.

Maceira gently patted Cynthia’s small, trembling back as she curled up.

Pop!

With a loud noise, a burst of colorful light from the fireworks illuminated the bedroom. It seemed like the fireworks had reached their climax.

“Ugh, ugh…… Mom, Dad… Sister…”

She covered her ears and whimpered like a frightened child.

While he was still figuring out what to do, Cynthia tugged at his hand. In the darkness, Maceira violet eyes slowly drifted up to the ceiling.

“It’s bothering me.”

With a soft murmur, he let himself be pulled toward her.

Out on the deck, someone might have been watching the fireworks decorating the sky, lost in happy memories. But here, someone was curled up in fear, trapped in memories of an air raid.

And someone else was there, holding them close and consoled them.

Time passed, and silence returned like the tide.

“It’s okay now.”

He spoke softly, hoping to bring Cynthia, whose face was buried in his chest and was hugging him, back to the present

Her head, tucked beneath his chin, gave the faintest twitch. Then her breathing settled, quiet and even.

How much time has passed since?

‘Should I tell the attending physician?’

Lying flat on his back, Maceira stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.

Cynthia was nestled against him, head on his shoulder and arms around his waist.

‘What should I do about her clothes?’

It must have happened while she was changing after her shower, she hadn’t even finished buttoning up. He could feel her bare skin against his.

She smelled like milk and peaches.

* * *

Rumble!

“It will be okay, don’t cry.”

Dad’s gentle voice overlapped with the blaring sirens announcing the air raid.

Was this a dream? A hallucination?

The scene changed.

I saw military boots moving in front of me who was crouching under the bed.

Dad had told me to count to a hundred. I closed my eyes and did as he said.

‘One, two, three, four.’

I counted in time with the thunderous gunfire that shook the floor.

‘One, two, three….’

The sound of gunshots was always followed by the screams of people.

That day, my dad never came back.

Back then, I could only count to fifty.

After his funeral, my older brother carried me on his back and said, “Our youngest sister, I’ll protect you from now on. Remember? You promised Dad you would always smile.”

I was young then. My brother was much older, already a soldier.

“Oppa, why is it that everyone but me ends up dying?”

“You were just lucky. Remember when the building collapsed? You made it through. Mom and Dad always said you were born lucky.”

“When will the war end? I miss my friends.”

My older sister, who was five years older than me and taught me how to count to 100 in my father’s stead, smiled with eyes full of sorrow.

“Just think of it as a play. This war, this pain… it will all come to an end someday.”

“Sister. If I believe we’re living in a happy story, do you think we’ll really be happy?”

My brother’s voice still lingered in my mind. “To make that happen, you have to survive.”

After that, my brother and sister died. Once again, I survived.

As always, I was lucky.

“Don’t leave me alone….”

They say there’s a law of conservation in the world.

If I gained something, did that mean someone else had to lose?

Sometimes, I was haunted by that guilt, wondering if my good fortune had become someone else’s misfortune. It naturally became that way after hearing the resentment of the bereaved families who had lost their families.

Still, I kept smiling, because that was everyone’s dying wish.

Then a rumor spread among the survivors.

‘The government is abandoned this city.’

It was obvious that it would soon be occupied.

What was I even fighting for? I never asked for this.

On the thirtieth day of the air raids, I didn’t go to the shelter.

The cold rain soaked the ruined city.

Maybe it was better to die quickly than watch people disappear one by one. The rain washed away my sorrow. I felt at peace.

I sat at a broken piano left on the roadside and pressed a few keys. Some didn’t make a sound, probably damaged.

“I should have practiced more when I had the chance.”

Then maybe I could have gone out in style, like a true pianist.

Right then, I saw a fleet of planes flying in formation in the sky.