Masera, dressed in a clean shirt and sweater, sat on the sofa and opened a newspaper.
"Can you even read that?"
Cynthia asked, watching him rely on the faint light from the fireplace to read.
"I can see it."
"You too, Brigadier General? I can see better in the dark too. Weird, right?"
"…That's how it is for everyone."
'They say blonde-haired, blue-eyed westerners see really well in the dark.'*
Recalling something from a wuxia novel she once read, Cynthia nodded and sat down across from him.
"Bright places kind of blind me. Not enough to need glasses, but my eyesight's not that great."
"I can read the print from books in the building across the street."
Cynthia gaped in surprise at his words.
"Are you a telescope?"
"…I used to be a sniper. My eyesight is about 6.0."
"Wow, are you a descendant of Genghis Khan or something? You've basically got a built-in 6x scope. If you can see in the dark too, you probably don't even need thermal vision."
"Who's Genghis Khan?"
'And how does she even know this stuff?'
Masera quickly turned his head after catching a glimpse of Cynthia's linen nightgown.
The material was slightly sheer, and for someone with vision like his, it was a problem.
"Why are you sitting in front of me dressed like that?"
"It's no different from regular loungewear… besides, this is a bedroom."
He wasn't a complete stranger, and they were practically married.
"Is the nightgown weird or something…?"
Seeing her look slightly deflated, Masera suddenly remembered what he'd blurted out in anger before dinner, after that awkward embrace.
"Seriously… nothing but a pain."
That line had been bothering him for a while now.
'Was I too harsh?'
"What I said earlier… I didn't mean it."
"You mean calling the jellied eel gross? Don't worry, I bet everyone else thought the same. I was the rude one for offering it. I never imagined you'd actually eat it."
Cynthia replied with a brightness that rivaled daylight.
She hadn't heard the words that came after "Seriously…" earlier, as she was too caught up in the embrace at the time.
"My sister and the Duke are leaving for their honeymoon tomorrow. The rest of the family is heading back too."
Masera had no way of knowing that, but watching Cynthia speak so casually about it made him feel a twinge of guilt.
He assumed she was pretending not to care.
There'd been a soldier like that in his old unit too—always smiling, always cheerful, seemingly carefree, but inwardly crushed by depression.
Masera's eyes, the color of dawn mist, grew darker.
"Was there somewhere you always wanted to visit in Medea?"
"For the honeymoon, you mean? Can I plan the trip? I'll make a detailed itinerary. I think it'll be really fun with you, Brigadier General!"
Seeing her eyes sparkle with excitement only deepened the unease in his chest.
She had mentioned wanting to see the sea, and judging by her chat with the ladies earlier, visiting the maritime kingdom of Medea had clearly been a long-held dream.
She must've been so excited to finally make it come true—using the honeymoon as her chance.
"Thank you for the pretty dress, Brigadier General. Now, where should we go for the honeymoon? I've always wanted to—"
"We're not going."
Not until he shut her down like that.
'Why does this feel…'
He ran a hand through his platinum hair and narrowed his eyes.
'…like I'm the bad guy here?'
Just imagining the moment he'd have to break things off cleanly in the future made a vague sense of guilt bubble up inside him.
"I didn't think… you'd actually say we should divorce."
Could he really deliver such cold words to a face so full of fragile sorrow?
Masera felt a rising sense of danger—he couldn't let himself be swayed by that pale, delicate girl anymore.
'Fine. The honeymoon, at least.'
If it was her dream, he could allow that much. He couldn't risk ruining the engagement.
After that, whether she cried her eyes out or withered away into nothing… that wouldn't be his concern.
Until then, he would calculate just how much kindness to offer her.
"I had fun talking with you. I'm going to bed now. Sleep well—see you tomorrow."
Yawning, she stood and waved goodnight.
Masera climbed down to the floor and leaned back against the sofa.
His body was used to overnight watch from years in the military, and in unfamiliar places, this was the most comfortable position.
Meanwhile, Cynthia sat on the edge of the bed and tilted her head, watching him seated on the floor with the sofa as his backrest.
'Isn't that… a Korean thing?'
Eventually, curiosity won out.
"Why are you sleeping like that?"
"I find this comfortable."
"Is it because the room's big? Even with all the firewood, it's kind of chilly. Should I get you another blanket?"
"I don't get cold easily."
For a while, Cynthia didn't respond. Maybe she'd finally fallen asleep—silence settled in.
Just as Masera began to close his eyes—
"You secretly went to build a snowman, didn't you? Your gloves were all wet."
"…"
He pretended to be asleep and didn't answer. He couldn't think of anything to say to such an absurd question.
He figured she'd stop soon, but…
"You're out there doing fun stuff alone. I could've made you a snow duck, you know."
'Just go to sleep already.'
Exhausted by her endless chatter, Masera silently vowed that after they got married, they would definitely be sleeping in separate rooms.
* * *
"Colonel, we've lost communication with headquarters!"
"We're running low on food, fuel, and winter gear! Without resupply, our entire unit will be wiped out!"
Masera was dreaming of the past again.
Back when he was still Colonel Masera Guise, before he was ever granted a title.
It was the memory of the tragedy, when a supply line was cut off by a blizzard, leading to near-total annihilation.
Only a few survived—Masera, then a colonel, and the Duke, who had still been a lieutenant colonel, made it out alive.
The same went for the other noble-born officers.
"Was it you, Colonel, who ordered that suicidal charge just to keep the nobles alive? Did you sacrifice soldiers to reduce mouths to feed?"
In truth, it hadn't been Masera's decision.
The one who gave that order without authorization was Duke Henry Rukanosa—his superior at the time.
His logic had been simple: If they were all going to die anyway, better to let the "important ones" survive.
And in his mind, "important" meant noble.
"How could you be so cruel? Why didn't you send me to die too? I'm no better—I lived while my comrades were slaughtered just because I was a noble…"
Even as Masera was vilified as a heartless monster, the Duke pretended to know nothing to the very end.
"The Bariesa Dynasty has already collapsed, so why are we still out here fighting? What are we even dying for—cleaning up their mess?"
Among the survivors' cries, Masera could still hear the whimpers of a common soldier, frostbitten and rotting from the cold.
"Colonel… it's so cold…"
Masera's eyelids slowly lifted from the weight of the nightmare. The violet cast in his icy blue eyes deepened.
Somewhere along the line, the soldier's voice had faded, replaced by the sound of Cynthia's sleepy murmuring.
"Mmm… it's cold."
A chill had crept into the room. The fireplace had nearly gone out, its embers barely glowing.
Masera tossed in more logs and struck a match. It would take a while for the warmth to return.
Cynthia, bundled under the covers and trembling, caught his attention. He wanted to remain indifferent—but she really did find ways to be persistently bothersome.
He walked over and felt the cold fabric of her blanket. White strands of hair peeked out from under it, the rest of her completely buried.
Then, as the warmth began to return, Cynthia shifted and half-emerged from the covers, her face relaxed in sleep.
Masera stared quietly at her.
Come to think of it, everything had started with that senseless war brought on by the incompetent Bariesa royal family.
The revolutionaries had wiped out the Bariesa line, hunting down every last member of the royal family to secure their regime.
"Please, please—hide us. My daughter and I… we'll give you everything we have."
He'd been about six years old.
A woman had shown up at their door, carrying a child who looked around three or four.
She'd been dressed in worn clothes, but carried herself with grace.
The little girl, wrapped snugly in a blanket that smelled faintly of something sweet, had only her face poking out.
"Oh, you poor thing. I don't know what happened, but as a mother myself, I just can't turn you away. Come in, warm yourself."
Masera's mother, not knowing a thing, had taken pity and offered shelter.
The woman, in return, had handed over a red diamond necklace.
"We're refugees too, and the people here helped us a lot. We're just paying that kindness forward—there's no need to repay it. Your husband is in the North, right? It'll be a long journey. I'll pack you some bread and butter."
But the woman insisted on leaving the necklace behind—to repay the favor.
And that necklace became the root of tragedy.
Masera's mother was branded as a greedy traitor who had helped a fugitive royal in exchange for jewels.
The revolutionaries executed her.
Masera, left behind as a war orphan, fought tooth and nail to survive in a world that had taken everything from him.
And now, another girl—another survivor—stood before him.
Lost in memory, Masera's eyes drifted to Cynthia's neck.
The red necklace, the one that had condemned his mother to death…
Is the same one hanging from Cynthia's neck.
Early in the morning, Duke Rukanosa and Helene departed on their honeymoon.
The Queensguard family was also supposed to leave, but Count Queensguard, calling it family time, summoned Cynthia for a moment.
"Cynthia, you're very good at pleasing those precious princesses. They all seem to like you."
As Dowager Duchess Rukanosa was the real power in the Dukedom, Cynthia gaining her favor was a good thing for the Count.
It would help Helene, who was stiff and couldn't mix well.
'She's a child who knows how to be loved by adults, so she'll be quite useful if I send her out into society.'
It was a pity that her expiration date wasn't long.
The Count knew that some of the servants he had sent had died, but he didn't bother to bring it up.
They were caught stealing and selling items from the official residence, so it wasn't a matter to question Cynthia about.
Cynthia, who was eating a cookie that was served with the refreshments, said,
"The ladies? When I actually talked to them, they were very open-minded and nice, you know?"
It was the complete opposite of Helene's assessment.
Was she just naturally someone who loved people because she was like a flower garden?
The Count looked at the red diamond necklace around Cynthia's neck.
'Princess Margarita was also like that. Generous enough to give the Royal Family's treasures to a refugee woman as a reward.'
Count Queensguard, of the knight family that protected the Queen, and Princess Margarita had known each other since they were young.
Unlike the Bariesa Royal Family's notoriety, she was a kind and innocent person.
In other words, she was an easy target to take advantage of.
"I knew it. I knew that you were capable enough to become the successor of Queensguard. Ah, my marriage has been decided this time. It's with the second prince of a neighboring empire, and it's a little sad to get married without knowing what kind of person he is. I hope he is a gentlemanly and kind man like you."
She wasn't easy to claim.
'In the end, she fell, broke down, and then came into my clutches.'
The pure heart for the princess twisted into desire as time passed.
Lost in thought, the Count clenched his empty hand as if grabbing something.
He looked at Cynthia, who was eating a large cookie in one bite, with serious eyes.
"Cynthia, let's see each other at the wedding. Remember that you're the only one who loses if the marriage falls through."
In fact, even if Cynthia confessed that she was a fake, the Count had many ways to get out of it.
There was no evidence that she was a fake.
No matter what Cynthia did, he could just say, 'She was homesick. She wanted to go back to her family.'
Of course, Cynthia knew the fox-like Count well.
"It won't fall through. I like living comfortably as the wife of a wealthy officer without working, you know?"
Cynthia gave a simple conclusion and smiled brightly.
Carlos and Edford looked at her with displeasure.
* * *
"Snow White, let's connect often."
She still had a noble attitude and a cool tone, but at some point, the Dowager Duchess had created a nickname for me.
I guess I should be glad it wasn't something like powdered sugar, flour, or rice.
"Yes, Dowager Duchess. I wish I could come every day. Now that I'm family, please feel free to talk to me like Helene."
"Then I'll expect you to have tea parties every day after the wedding."
Madam Hills, who had the sharpest appearance, raised her chin and joked.
Madam Verace also stepped forward with her unique cold face.
"Let's go to the Starry Sardine Festival next spring. There's a sardine cooking contest with famous chefs from each country participating, and you can participate as a special judge."
"Really? That sounds so fun! I'm already excited to go!"
It wasn't just a polite remark, it sounded incredibly fun.
A sardine cooking contest? I had to go. The world was doing such fun things without me knowing!
I should have chatted about that interesting topic for at least an hour, but the cruel Masera cut me off and said he had to leave, and paid his respects.
"Meow."
At that time, a chubby cheese cat came up to Masera from somewhere, rubbed its body against his leg, and wrapped its tail around him.
It was cute purring, so I tried to pet it, but unfortunately, it dodged my touch smoothly.
Madam Verace tilted her head.
"That's strange. It only does that to people who give it food."
Food? I quickly searched my pockets, but unfortunately, I only had peanut candies and small pine cones.
Looking at Masera's eyes filled with superiority, it seemed that he had disappeared briefly yesterday not to make a snowman, but to seduce the cats in the garden.
"Father!"
I approached Count Queensguard, who was also preparing to return, and smiled brightly.
The Count was startled by the word 'Dad' and looked at me, then coughed dryly.
"Cindy, what's wrong?"
"I guess I'll see you at the wedding. I'll miss you."
At my realistic daughter act, the Count gave an embarrassed smile.
The Dowager Duchess, thinking that he was conscious of the people around him, covered her mouth and laughed.
"It's okay to be comfortable since we're all family anyway. It seems like you're sad to send off your youngest daughter, who you wouldn't even want to hurt if she were in your eyes."
"That's right. Compared to the mature Helene, she still acts like a baby and whines…"
The Count smiled awkwardly and ruffled Cynthia's hair.
After that, Masera didn't say anything the whole way home in the carriage.
He's usually like that, but today it was like…
It was as if he was looking at the ceiling before going to sleep, organizing the things he had been upset about with me, and finally deciding to slowly distance himself.
I spoke to him as usual.
"Do you like cats? You brought a cat snacks instead of building a snowman that day."
"I don't like them."
He replied indifferently and opened a book.
But the title of the book is 'Intensive Study of Cats'?
I didn't want to disturb his reading, so I didn't say anything more.
Instead, I peeked out and looked at the book with him, but he turned away as if even that was uncomfortable.
'How petty. Trying to monopolize every cats' favor…'
I vowed to ransack the study when I returned to the official residence.
* * *
Since the Dukedom and the official residence weren't that far, the two arrived at the official residence in less than an hour.
But the official residence was more crowded than usual.
Most of them were soldiers in splendid uniforms, and it turned out that they were the ones who had gone on reconnaissance in the conflict zone and had returned to report.
"Hello!"
They smiled back at Cynthia, who greeted them brightly.
But as soon as they learned that she was a descendant of the fallen Bariesa Dynasty, they immediately changed their attitude.
"What's so good about that disgusting royal to be smiling like that?"
"Just by looking at her, you can tell she's a fool who grew up stuck in the countryside and doesn't know anything about the world. She definitely grew up without knowing what her family did to the people."
They couldn't openly insult their superior's fiancée, so it ended in gossip, but the negative emotions were clearly revealed in the way they looked at her.
'What should I do…'
Cynthia, seeing the soldiers' cold reaction, covered her mouth and made a troubled expression.
'Everyone must have a lot of complaints about the heartless Brigadier General… I know the person in charge is hated, but I should be nice to those people.'
Just a moment ago, she had been loved by the Dowager Duchess and her sisters, so she had briefly forgotten her position as a hated royal.
Among them, there was an officer who sent a particularly venomous gaze.
'Marriage? With a stupid woman like that?'