There were many who held deep resentment toward the Bariesa Royal Family because of the war.
Naturally, Cynthia became a target of contempt.
Behind her back, people called her nothing more than 'Masera's war trophy,' as he was a former war orphan who had clawed his way to the top.
"I'll turn around and cover my eyes. Draw something simple, and I'll guess what it is."
Cynthia set her champagne glass down and handed a pen and paper to the politician.
He chuckled and took it, clearly amused.
"Hah… What is this, a children's game?"
"You were the one who asked to see the royal family's special ability, weren't you?"
Cynthia spoke slowly, deliberately, with a wistful look in her eyes.
"Guessing what someone's thinking outright feels like an invasion of privacy. I've caused trouble before by revealing secrets people were trying to hide—affairs, crimes, things like that."
The lawmaker's face stiffened just slightly.
Cynthia noticed it, and her lips curved into a subtle smile.
No such thing as a spotless politician, especially one who's climbed this far. Opportunist, most likely.
Not giving him a chance to cut in, she continued.
"I don't remember my childhood. Maybe I was traumatized by the deaths in my family when the royal household was dismantled. Whatever the cause, at some point, I started sensing things—just knowing what others were thinking by reading their expressions, tone, and gestures."
A soft murmur of sympathy rippled through the crowd. Some guests averted their eyes, suddenly uncomfortable.
Then Cynthia turned around and covered her eyes with both hands.
"But now, I don't even need to watch. It's like I can just… sense it. Isn't that curious?"
She spoke like she was born to tell stories.
People were fully drawn into her calm, even tone.
"Alright then. Go ahead and draw."
All eyes shifted from Cynthia to the politician.
He set his champagne glass down and, under the audience's gaze, began sketching on the paper.
"Finished?"
Her voice cut through the air the moment his pen left the page, making him blink in surprise.
Still turned away, Cynthia spoke.
"A snowman. Right? At first, I thought it was a standing caterpillar, but you drew a carrot for the nose."
A stir ran through the crowd.
Gasps and whispers followed as they confirmed the drawing: it was indeed a snowman.
"Th-that's correct."
The lawmaker broke into a cold sweat. Goosebumps crept up his neck.
"How… how did you do that? That wasn't a trick? You actually read my mind…?"
Cynthia smiled faintly at his bewildered voice. Hidden in her palm was a small, round hand mirror.
'I just said all that to make you believe me.'
It was a simple trick she'd seen before on magic shows: pretending to cover her eyes while using the mirror to see his sketch.
She remembered the long legacy of deception the Bariesa Royal Family had upheld.
Cult-like deification and indoctrination— That was the so-called 'special power' of the royal bloodline.
The politician dabbed sweat from his face, eyes flitting nervously. He couldn't meet Cynthia's gaze anymore.
"Incredible. It's almost like a superpower."
He raised his champagne glass and forced a grin.
"It's nothing special. Everyone has something they're good at, right? This is just mine. Oh, and there's one more thing…"
Cynthia grinned.
"I'm pretty lucky."
"Ah yes, wasn't the legendary Frost Queen of Bariesa once called the Goddess of Fortune?"
The politician laughed awkwardly and gulped down his drink.
Cynthia's eyes widened as she watched him.
"Wait, that's my glass…"
CRASH—!
"Urgh, ghh!"
The lawmaker dropped the glass and clutched at his throat, groaning in agony.
His bloodshot eyes narrowed, locking onto Cynthia.
"You wretched witch… How did you know to switch the glasses?!"
"Excuse me? You're the one who grabbed that glass. Was I supposed to drink it instead?"
He had spoken down to her first, so she gave it right back.
Poisoned? Cynthia looked confused as the man screamed one last time with what strength he had.
"You filthy Bariesa trash, scum of the old monarchy! Did you think we wouldn't see through your plans to restore the throne—ugh, ughh…!"
With blood spilling from his lips, he collapsed, surrounded by horrified screams.
Meanwhile, a man with chestnut-brown hair, hidden among the crowd, narrowed his eyes at the fallen politician.
'I told them it's impossible to kill her! And here you try to poison her only to drink it himself?!'
He stared at Cynthia, who looked genuinely clueless.
'Dammit. Who the hell is this woman? It's like she saw right through all of our plans!'
They were members of the People's Liberation Front, an anti-monarchist faction.
Their target today was Cynthia.
Their plan was to kidnap her and use her as a hostage to blackmail House Queensguard and Masera.
Her residence was always heavily guarded, so the engagement party, full of outside guests, had been their only real chance.
Cynthia didn't know it, but they'd spent the whole evening trying different schemes.
They tried spilling a drink on her dress to get her outside—but she turned at the last second, and it landed on someone else.
They tried tripping her, pretending it was an accident, then offering to help her out—but she turned suddenly and the would-be saboteur fell instead.
Eventually, they had to change their plan.
"That's it. We'll just have to send her to the hospital."
They crawled through the ceiling ducts and dropped a chandelier—but she dodged it by mere inches.
And now, the lone assassin's poisoning attempt had failed too.
"Seal the exits. Search everyone."
At Masera's signal, the soldiers in the hall moved instantly.
Within moments, the entire venue was locked down.
Then, one of the People's Liberation Front members—rattled by panic—shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Royalty must be erased from the face of the earth! We will fight to the end!"
'What the hell, now this idiot! Are you trying to get caught and tortured to death? How can we be so disorganized!'
The brown-haired man ducked back into the crowd in frustration.
Their opponent was none other than Brigadier General Vicente.
If he got caught, it was obvious that he and three generations of his family would be wiped out.
BANG—!
Just then, the young man fired a hidden pistol at Cynthia.
Screams rang out from every corner.
Cynthia flinched instinctively and ducked. At the same moment, she felt someone throw their body over hers.
Ting!
"AAARGH!"
The bullet ricocheted off something sharp— and a man's scream rang out nearby.
The brown-haired man clutched his side in pain.
In a freak twist of fate, the bullet meant for Cynthia had missed and struck the hidden would-be kidnapper.
Still trembling, Cynthia opened her eyes and met Masera's gaze.
He had shielded her.
"Why..."
'I thought you hated me? Sure, my death would be inconvenient, but not enough to risk his own life for it.'
Then Masera, still holding her close with one arm, raised his gun.
"What the, that woman… is she actually a devil? How can she even dodge bullets?"
The would-be assassin stared at her in disbelief, while faced with Masera's gun.
BANG!
The young man dropped right where he stood.
"The Bariesa Dynasty's Goddess of Fortune… she must bear the Goddess' blessing."
Someone murmured, face pale with awe.
It was a scene no one could explain—how every misfortune had somehow missed her.
Reporters hiding under the tables began frantically scribbling.
「The Royal Family's Secret Power—A Reincarnation of the Frost Queen Who can Evade Tens of Thousands of Arrows?
Coincidence, or the Rebirth of a Legend?」
This is the first event in which Cynthia deceived the entire world– and the beginning of the greatest scam in history.
Masera stood in front of Cynthia and loaded his pistol.
"Follow Dahlia out."
Dahlia was already slipping out of the banquet hall, holding Eugene in her arms.
But Cynthia couldn't follow.
Beeeep—
As the echo of the gunshot and the noise that had filled the banquet hall faded, a high-pitched ringing began to fill Cynthia's head.
"Ah…"
Her sense of reality blurred, and her consciousness grew faint.
It was a manifestation of war trauma she had suffered in her past life.
After all, she too had been a victim of war.
"Cynthia!"
Edford tried to catch Cynthia as she staggered and nearly collapsed, but he was immediately shoved aside by someone and fell flat on his butt.
"Move."
It was a cold voice, sharp enough to freeze the very air.
Masera's eyes gleamed with a murderous glint.
Feeling the oppressive force, Edford backed away with a terrified look on his face.
Masera supported Cynthia and then felt her hand clutch at his hem. He lowered his gaze.
She was staring up at Masera with a dazed expression. Trapped in panic, Cynthia was seeing her brother from her past life in his place.
Her trembling lips barely managed to form words.
"Brother, don't go."
Brother—was she calling Carlos? Masera's brow furrowed deeply.
Whether she had some improper relationship with her own brother or not, it wasn't his concern. It wasn't like she was someone he'd be spending the rest of his life with anyway.
"Same here. I fell for him at first sight too."
He knew it was a lie.
But he simply couldn't stand the unpleasant feeling, like a shard of glass lodged deep inside him, prickling annoyingly.
Then her next words puzzled him.
"The air raid siren hasn't been lifted yet."
The war had ended ages ago, so what was this talk of an air raid siren?
Her glazed eyes seemed to be staring at a completely different world.
"Don't leave me here all alone, please."
With a voice full of despair, her hands—like someone lost in a nightmare—desperately wrapped around Masera's neck.
He didn't push her hands away.
"Who are you talking to?"
No answer came.
As her strength slipped away, Cynthia lost consciousness and went limp. Watching her, he felt an odd sensation that he couldn't quite put into words.
It was then.
"Cindy!"
Carlos came running up and grabbed the limp Cynthia. Then his eyes met Masera's, who was still holding her.
The strange color in Masera's eyes thoroughly annoyed Carlos, and his brow knit tightly.
"Brigadier General, please leave Cindy to me, that way you can see to the situation quickly."
Their gazes clashed sharply, both men glaring.
Carlos tried to pull Cynthia toward him, but her body didn't budge an inch.
"Lord Carlos, you seem to care very deeply for your younger sister. Just as a proper eldest son should."
Masera's voice was calm, yet edged with a blade.
Lifting Cynthia into his arms, Masera tilted his chin arrogantly.
"But as her husband, I'll see to her myself. You'd best look after your other younger siblings."
Where he jerked his chin, Edford was sitting miserably on the floor.
Carlos ground his teeth and turned away.
'Putting on the husband act, when he's just someone we struck a deal with out of necessity.'
Of course, Carlos had only ever used Cynthia as a tool too.
But for some reason, it kept eating at him, sparking a gnawing jealousy.
When the gun had been shot at Cynthia, it had even felt like his heart dropped into his stomach.
'I'm probably just worried that the merchandise I lent out might get damaged.'
Carlos rationalized it to himself as he kicked Edford's rear.
"Stop making a fool of yourself and get up!"
Meanwhile, Helene was watching everything with a blank expression.
Her fiancé, Duke Rukanosa, belatedly approached her.
"You are well, I presume."
Helene slowly turned her head to look at him.
Even if it was only a marriage of political convenience, they were still in front of Rutemia's high society. Shouldn't he at least show half the devotion that Brigadier General Vicente had?
And she didn't like how he kept watching Cynthia so intently from earlier on.
"I'm unharmed. Are you alright, Duke?"
She also spoke words she didn't mean, then cast her gaze toward the captured remnants of the People's Liberation Front.
'A bunch of ignorant lowly scum.'
Receiving the Duke's escort, Helene twisted her lips slightly as she stared at the soldiers.
'Well, good thing we're making an example of them here, now those filthy commoners won't dare crash my wedding and cause a scene.'
The only reason the People's Liberation Front could have gotten in here was all thanks to Count Queensguard.
She had planned to use Masera's hand to wipe out the People's Liberation Front, as they'd become a threat she'd have to deal with while moving through the capital's high society.
'And perhaps… Brigadier General Vicente thought the same thing.'
Though she doubted he'd anticipated them smuggling in pistols past the security checks.
* * *
"Gasp."
Maybe it was because of all the terrifying chaos. While I was unconscious, I dreamed of my past life, and when I opened my eyes, I was drenched in cold sweat.
"Were you that frightened?"
When I lifted my head at the low voice, I saw Masera holding me in his arms.
"The war… it's over, right?"
Memories of the horrors I'd experienced in my past life rose up like haunting traces, so even though I knew full well, I asked anyway.
Hearing my trembling voice, he nodded.
"Yes. It's been a year since the war ended. Did you have a war dream or something?"
Even this world hadn't been long out of a major war. I shook off the remnants of the nightmare that clung to my chest.
"How long was I out? The engagement ceremony…"
"Ten minutes."
I thought it must've been days, but ten minutes?
I looked around. It was one of the guest rooms near the ballroom.
He'd carried me out in a princess carry just to hide me somewhere safe? Was this some kind of tsundere trait?
I felt a little touched as I asked,
"Were you worried about me?"
The second I asked, my body went thud as it was thrown onto the bed.
Masera had full-on yeeted me onto the bed.
"Yes."
He loosened his tie with a languid look in his eyes as he answered.
Could he pick just one—either be kind or be an ass!
"For about three whole seconds."
Then he pulled something from his breast pocket and continued in a low voice.
"At least, until I found out you're quite the skilled liar."
In his hand was the small hand mirror I'd used for my little trick.
No way—had he seen through me? Did he think even me fainting was just an act?
When I saw the deepening cold in his eyes, my shoulders went rigid with tension.
"Whatever past you have, or whoever else there was, it doesn't matter to me."
Past—wait, did he somehow find out who I really was? Had I babbled nonsense while I was unconscious?
Seeing his terrifying expression, I felt myself shrink a bit.
"Why are you suddenly saying all this…"
"Even if you use me like you did today, I don't care. It goes both ways, after all."
Wait—did he think today's incident was some staged play with Count Queensguard? A ploy to wipe out the People's Liberation Front, since they were becoming a threat?
Given this happened inside a government residence with tight security… well, it probably was Count Queensguard's doing.
The servants who came with me must've cooperated.
I let out a sigh, at least relieved it seemed he hadn't uncovered my true identity. That was when—thunk—the bed shook.
He was leaning over me on the bed, looking down at me.
"However, if you keep deceiving me with lies that are bound to surface."
Masera's eyes, now close to mine, darkened to the color of an evening sunset.
Instead of finishing his sentence, he pressed the cold muzzle of his pistol to my forehead, then curved his eyes into a gentle smile.
"So, you better make sure I never catch you."
I looked up at him, my face going pale.
Even if I could fool the entire world, it was meaningless if I couldn't fool this man.
But for some reason, the look on his face wasn't anger—it seemed more like betrayal.
As long as he never found out it was all fake, I could live.
But that also meant that someday, the truth might come and kill me.
'This scam is bound to end someday.'
The only thing that could stand against such a cruel truth was genuine love between people.
'Then I'll become this man's love.'
My gloved hand touched his cheek.
I forced a smile, recalling how he had wrapped his entire body around me earlier to shield me from gunfire.
He might hate me, but maybe he was starting to like me… by like ten percent.
"So will you keep on saving me, then? Just like you just did."
Given that he'd agreed to this engagement ceremony when he didn't have to, he was probably already planning to eliminate threats to me in advance.
You'll fall for me in the end.
Just wait and see, my future doormat.
"What happened today, I won't forget it…"
Maybe the gun pointed at me short-circuited my brain, because instead of a thank you, it came out sounding more like a vow for revenge.
And with that—I fainted again.