'So I've been found out.'
Masera let out a mental sigh.
But he was excellent at keeping a straight face, so he showed no reaction outwardly.
Meanwhile, Cynthia had both hands covering her mouth as she stared at him. She was remembering how all those dresses she tried on had been decorated with pearls and gemstones.
"Wait, are you telling me… all of those dresses were custom-made? And each one takes years… So then when did you even start… Was that all for me…?"
Just as Cynthia's mind was about to whip up a dramatic backstory like, "We actually met once when we were children," Masera shut it down.
"No. The designer at Maryseiren's Atelier owes me a debt, so she expedited the production."
Cynthia's moment of awe fizzled right out.
But then someone nearby spoke up in surprise.
"No wonder. I heard someone recently cleaned out all the best pearls from the Mediterranean and bought up all the high-purity diamonds. It was Brigadier General Vicente, wasn't it?"
"Wow… even a stern soldier can be melted by a sweet princess. So jealous."
Before he knew it, Masera had been branded a hopelessly devoted husband, madly in love with his wife.
Hoping desperately that they would stop talking, Masera pressed his aching head and sighed.
"I'm sorry I kept pestering you about going on a honeymoon. I had no idea…"
Cynthia looked genuinely apologetic.
She probably thought he'd blown so much on dresses that there wasn't any money left for a trip.
Masera gave her a resigned look.
"It's not that dire."
"I know. Even people with money cut down on wasteful spending. I'll live frugally too. I can tape newspapers over the windows to save on firewood."
She had misunderstood entirely.
Now he was either a struggling breadwinner or a miserly penny-pincher — or both.
Just then, someone nearby voiced the question.
"But did the Duchy buy a canceled dress, or… steal it midway?"
"Custom orders can't be canceled, from what I know. So they must've stolen it. Their body types are similar anyway."
"No way. Her sister took the dress that was made just for her? Even knowing what it means when a husband prepares a gown for his bride?"
No one suspected that Duke Rukanosa's petty jealousy toward Masera was the real reason.
They naturally assumed it was just the older sister snatching something that belonged to the younger one.
"…Your Grace, I think this calls for an explanation."
"Let's talk about it later."
Helene, her face gone pale, tried to demand an answer, but the Duke brushed her off and moved toward the politicians, shaking hands.
The Duke's refusal to answer and his swift retreat was practically a confession.
"Wow, what kind of sister does that?"
"Tsk, a wedding dress is so important. Her sister must be devastated."
Everyone's judgmental eyes turned to her.
Helene was drowning in unbearable shame and fury.
'He's pinning this on me to save his own image? What kind of slimy bastard pulls something like that?'
She held back the urge to scream that she had zero interest in some lowborn maid's hand-me-downs.
But she couldn't exactly announce that the Duke had done this out of inferiority toward Brigadier General Vicente, a former war orphan.
If she protected her pride now, she knew she'd lose far more in the long run. She had at least that much reason and self-control.
Helene clenched her teeth, her eyes glinting with venom.
'I'll never let this slide. When I reclaim my royal authority, I'll make you pay for this tenfold.'
Cynthia could sense the storm of resentment roiling inside Helene — but she had no interest in setting the record straight.
She merely watched from her usual detached observer's perch — the one Helene had always claimed to value.
* * *
"Brigadier General. I didn't realize you'd gone to all that trouble with the dresses, and I made such a careless comment. I'm sorry. It must've upset you, seeing it get stolen like that."
At Cynthia's apology, Masera slowly shook his head.
"Like you said, we can just get a new one. I can get them to complete it in a week."
"But… why'd you put so much effort into the dresses?"
Masera's brow furrowed slightly. It was a question he very much didn't want to answer.
"Hearts are like a box. If you fill it with treasure, it becomes a treasure chest. But if you fill it with trash, it becomes a trash can. Masera, make sure to fill your future wife's heart with treasures."
"I was only following my late mother's advice. A wedding lasts a single day, but for the rest of your life…"
That meaningful day can either become a box full of treasured memories you can open and enjoy again, or a wound you never want to touch.
'Still, what the hell was I thinking?'
Did he really need to give Cynthia happy memories just because of his mother's advice? Even he didn't understand why he'd done it.
He felt a sudden wave of irritation at himself for barely being able to stop himself from saying something ridiculously sentimental.
"Oh, I think I get it."
Cynthia nodded in understanding, then suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand.
"I'll make an effort to create good memories together as well. I don't have money right now, so I can't give you things like that… but one day, I'll spoil you rotten."
She sounded like a poor fellow proposing to a rich girl, then slipped something onto his finger.
Masera looked down at his middle finger.
It was a ring—made from a gold twist-tie from a bread-bag, with a bead-sized candy stuck on like a gemstone.
"…What."
"It's a magic ring that brings wealth."
"I told you, I'm not poor."
Masera was honestly baffled. So that's what she'd been fiddling with under the table.
Cynthia spoke.
"Stuff doesn't last forever, you know. What really stays with you isn't stuff—it's memories. Like remembering this ring and laughing later."
It was the kind of thing only someone who's lost everything might say.
In fact, it was strikingly similar to his mother's last words, after losing her husband and everything else in the war.
Masera, staring at Cynthia in a daze without even realizing it, finally blinked and ran a hand through his hair.
"Brigadier General, that ring—where's it from? Looks unique."
A group of businessmen who'd come over to chat had noticed the ring on his finger.
Masera replied calmly.
"A gemstone… that brings wealth…"
"Oh! Is it an upcycled edition? Some luxury brands are leaning eco-friendly these days."
Masera just nodded as if that were true.
He went on to mingle with the politicians, but for some reason, it felt like none of them could quite meet Cynthia's eyes.
"Am I imagining things, or is everyone avoiding eye contact with me?"
Cynthia frowned. Someone finally clued her in.
"You didn't hear? Princess, you've become the talk of the town. Ever since we saw that article… we're all feeling a little intimidated. Not that we take bribes or feel guilty or anything, ha ha ha!"
At some point, people had started calling Cynthia that cringe-worthy 'Princess' title, and every time they did, it made her deeply uncomfortable.
Still feeling awkward, Cynthia glanced down at the newspaper the man handed her—and her eyes went wide.
"Ack."
『Princess Cynthia Queensguard, the beauty said to carry the legend of the Frost Queen.
Bearing an uncanny resemblance to the very first Frost Queen, she has proven herself capable of dodging thousands of arrows.
She effortlessly avoided a massive chandelier falling overhead, detected hidden traps placed throughout the venue, and exuded such fierce presence even amidst a hail of bullets that she neutralized her opponent on the spot.
Most shocking of all, she could read minds just by looking into someone's eyes.
Having read the mind of a perpetrator disguised as a guest at her engagement ceremony, she switched out her poisoned wine with his, and made him drink poison instead.
Could the blessing of the 'Goddess of Fortune' once again be shining on the Bariesa Royal Family?』
…Wasn't this just the plot of a sci-fi action movie? Cynthia looked completely dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, Masera was studying the 'wealth bringing gemstone ring' still on his finger, amidst a dull conversation with some guests,
'She really loves attaching meaning to things.'
Maybe that was how she stayed so cheerful.
Right then, the Duke's butler approached him with a courteous smile.
"It looks like we'll have heavy snow this afternoon. It might be a good idea for Their Highnesses to spend the night and share a bit more sisterly bonding time. We've already prepared a room for Brigadier General and the Princess."
Masera looked up at the now-overcast sky, then turned to Cynthia as if asking for her opinion. She rubbed at her eyes, which had grown redder than usual under her parasol.
"I'd like to go up and rest now. It's cold, and I've been outside for hours. I'm exhausted."
"I was thinking the same."
And so, the two of them were led to their room in silence, the air between them awkward and quiet.
"As you're about to be married, I imagine you'll be sharing a room?"
Neither of them managed to say anything to that—so in the end, they were given the same room.
A spacious room, yes… but one with just one bed.
After the reception ended, Helene was immediately summoned by the Dowager Duchess and reprimanded.
Madam Verace and Madam Hills, the Dowager Duchess's sisters who were staying at the Ducal Estate, had taken to mocking Helene, and now they were piling on again, their words biting as ever.
"How could you steal your sister's dress? The dignity of the royal family is in tatters."
"To think she's the type to envy and steal from someone with one thing, when she herself has ten."
In response, Helene narrowed her eyes and began to calmly refute them point by point.
"I'm not yet the lady of the house, so I don't have the authority to spend a fortune on a dress. And I'm not on bad enough terms with my sister to fight over something like that, nor am I the kind of person who'd snatch what isn't mine."
"Then are you saying Duke Rukanosa stole your sister's dress and had you wear it instead? How utterly shameless."
That's exactly what happened.
But even if she provided evidence, they wouldn't believe her. These women had never been on Helene's side anyway.
Just then, the Duke stepped in to mediate.
"There was a mistake at the atelier. It seems the dress I commissioned was switched with another. It wasn't her fault, so please don't be too harsh."
Helene bit her lip.
'Then you should've explained that in front of everyone…'
"You mean you couldn't even recognize the dress you wore? You must have received it the day before the ceremony—surely you had plenty of time to check."
Madam Hills pressed on with relentless persistence.
'Right. That's why he clammed up and ran off instead.'
Helene sighed.
The Medea nobles were known for being sharp and picky.
As they were from a prestigious collateral line of royalty, they didn't sugarcoat anything for the sake of saving face. However, they were overwhelmingly exhaustingly formal.
As Helene's silence dragged on, the Duke offered another excuse.
"She must have been overwhelmed with the wedding preparations. Wife, let's get some rest."
Helene offered a curtsy and followed after him.
"Duke, was the dress really switched?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll contact Maryseiren and have them deliver my dress."
The Duke abruptly halted. He turned back toward her with a frosty glare.
"You're being tiresome. Are you saying you want to hold another wedding?"
"No. It's just… it was made for me, after all."
"I'll instruct the butler to take care of it, so just be patient."
Once again, Helene felt her anger bubble up.
"So every time something inconvenient happens, you're just going to pin the blame on me and walk away?"
"Blame? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You humiliated me—made it look like I was the one who did something shameful, when really, you were the one acting out because of Brigadier General Vicente."
The moment she said it, the Duke grabbed her shoulders tightly. His eyes glinted with a dangerous edge.
"Watch your mouth. Who exactly are you accusing me of being jealous of?"
But Helene was not the type to be cowed.
"Then are you saying I was jealous of my sister? I don't live my life stewing in inferiority. I only compete against others. I really don't get why you're so fixated on some war orphan. I doubt he even thinks about you, much less sees you as a rival. So why are you acting like you're the commoner and he's the noble?"
"And what makes you think someone like you, descended from a disgraced royal bloodline, even deserves to be treated like a princess?"
The Duke glared at her, his fury now boiling over.
"And yet you—so high and mighty—have no problem tearing your wife down in front of everyone?"
"Isn't it a wife's duty to boost her husband's pride?"
"Weren't we supposed to get married for mutual benefit? If you were looking for a self-sacrificing wife who'd just prop you up, you've picked the wrong woman."
"Did your bridal training only teach you to argue and defy your husband?"
Helene looked at him with cold, cutting eyes, as he resorted to illogical insults.
"Duke. You seem to be mistaken about something. You didn't choose me—I chose you. Because your terms were the most favorable."
"What?"
"What I'm saying is, I have no shortage of suitors who'd treat me like a proper princess. If you look down on me one more time, I'll make sure you regret it. We're dropping formalities now, right? Sounds good to me."
She realized that now that she was married and officially the Duchess, she really didn't need him anymore.
Helene turned her back on him, cold and composed.
As he stared at her retreating figure, the Duke scowled viciously.
"Tch. Just like those domineering women on my mother's side."
Conceited, always spewing scathing remarks while pretending to be elegant, crushing a man's dignity while still demanding to be revered.
Having such a woman as his wife, he was beginning to understand why his father, the late Duke, had died young.
'If I want to avoid an early grave, I'll just have to keep my distance.'
This was just a political marriage, a means to an end. He had absolutely no intention of ever having any affection for her.
With a sharp click of his tongue, the Duke turned away from her, with both their backs facing each other.
And just like that, the rift between them was fully, irrevocably drawn.
* * *
Masera and I maintained our silence for quite some time after entering the room.
But that only made the awkwardness worse, so I broke the silence first.
"We're supposed to sleep in the same room, right?"
"That's how it turned out."
He spoke like someone recalling a traffic accident he hadn't expected.
It weirdly reminded me of how our marriage had come together—also very unexpected.
I rubbed my gloved hands together and looked out the window.
"Just like the butler said, it really is snowing a lot."
From the darkening sky, heavy snow was pouring down.
Since he insisted we stay the night, I'd suspected the butler of being the mastermind behind something—but I guess it was just a thoughtful gesture in case we got stranded.
I wrapped a blanket around myself and sat down in front of the fireplace, where the flames crackled softly.
"Why are you sitting on the floor? I thought you said you were going to rest."
"This is how I rest. It's the warmest spot too."
It was my favorite fire-gazing zone, but Masera must have assumed I was trying to avoid him.
He picked up the coat he had neatly hung and slipped it back on.
"I'll step outside for a bit."
"No, don't."
Maybe it was because the room was too big or because it wasn't my house, but even the painting of some old guy on the wall looked creepy—I didn't want to be alone.
I jumped up and grabbed Masera's sleeve.
"I have some business to take care of outside. I'll be back soon, so…"
"What is it? I want to come too."
"It's just a thing."
"I can't stand being curious."
At this point, it wasn't even about not wanting to be alone—I was just too curious.
In the middle of our tug-of-war, I lost my footing and tilted backward.
Masera quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him.
"Eek!"
Thankfully, I didn't crack my head open, and we also managed to land one of the 'Top 10 Essential Rom-Com Tropes: Accidental Embrace'.
So I ended up fully wrapped in his arms.
Masera let out a strained breath and pushed me away with an irritated expression.
Well, his face looked annoyed, but his movements were careful—probably so I wouldn't trip again and trigger another accidental embrace.
"Seriously…"
Muttering under his breath in a tone that oddly sounded angry, he turned and stormed out of the room.
Whatever he said after that got lost in the memory of my first time ever being in the arms of a hot guy.
Left alone, I shrugged and sighed.
"Welp, time to go find that grumpy cheese cat."
I had to find out what he was up to—at this point, it was just out of spite.
I headed out and peered down the hallway.
"Did he make a run for it or something?"
He was already gone. I blinked in surprise.
Just then, I heard someone approaching from behind and a warm, gentle voice called out.
"Princess, what are you doing here?"
I shuddered at the unfamiliar title and turned around.
Duke Henry Rukanosa was looking at me.
"Hello, I was going to look for the Brigadier General. He said he'd be back soon, but he hasn't come back for a while, so I'm worried. Have you seen him by any chance?"
One minute was apparently 'a while.'
He tilted his head slightly and smiled at me.
"Well, he might have gone to smoke a cigar."
"A cigar? He's never smoked in front of me, so I wouldn't know."
"Worried he might be off meeting a secret lover?"
"No?"
He was absolutely not the type capable of juggling multiple relationships.
The Duke continued, half in jest.
"Can't blame you for worrying. My dear friend sure does draw a lot of female attention with that face of his."
"I'm sure you've stolen your fair share of hearts too, Duke. But I feel like you're the type to stay faithful to one woman for life, for better or worse."
I gave him a compliment in return and glanced toward the window in the hallway.
But when he didn't say anything back, I turned to look at him again.
Was my read on him off? He definitely had a face that screamed 'tragic second male lead turns to the dark side after an unrequited love' vibes.
But the way he was looking at me was… odd.