“The part where the male lead regrets everything after the female lead dies and spirals into madness before finally offing himself. The dopamine and the tears hit all at once—seriously.”
In her previous life, Cynthia had an older sister with complete trash taste in fiction.
Because of the war, there were air raids practically every other day, so holing up at home reading novels or webtoons was their only joy back then.
“A ‘let’s all die together’ ending? You perv. How can you like something like that?”
“This is the good stuff, I’m telling you. Just try one bite. It’s pure bliss.”
“Ugh, you’re like a trash can that gobbles up every filthy thing in the world. This life is awful enough—why would I want to read that crap too?”
“The male and female leads hate each other at first, but then she dies, and he realizes his feelings while reading her last letter. That part hits so damn hard.”
“Ah, I can’t handle spicy stuff like that.”
If she’d enjoyed reading things like that herself, she’d probably be rolling around in some hopelessly angst-ridden world right now.
But in the end, she’d landed in a romcom, a healing story, a salvation-type world—so she was the winner!
Unaware that this place was anything but a healing story—more like lethally toxic waste—Cynthia strolled down the corridor with a beaming face.
“Is my sister living a new life somewhere too?”
“Hey! If we survive by sheer luck again, you better swear by the River Styx you’ll read that book I told you about! I even read ‘Adorable Sunshine Lady Beats Everyone’ like you recommended! I’m seriously so mad!”
It was a novel her sister loved enough to pitch even on the verge of death.
And yet, she hadn’t even told her the title.
Hopefully she’s playing the role of a fairy in the ‘Adorable Sunshine Lady Beats Everyone’ by now.
And our older brother, who was a soldier… I wonder if he ended up in the manga, One Piece, he loved so much?
“Ah.”
Cynthia, lost in her memories, suddenly stopped with a serious expression.
Then she turned around and retraced her steps, returning to Masera.
“By the way, I don’t know where my room is. Are we sharing one?”
Masera tilted his head and looked at her expressionlessly.
“Are we close enough to do that?”
“We should be. We didn’t have the ceremony, but we’re already legally married. You’re really just shy, huh?”
No matter what she said, he didn’t seem fazed at all. Definitely not normal.
She held out her hand and asked,
“But we’re close enough that you could walk me to my room, right?”
“Too much trouble.”
He cut her off with a smiling face. Cynthia pouted, puffing her cheeks and glaring up at him like an angry little animal.
“Mean… I’ll just have to get my hands on a floor plan or something…”
Muttering to herself, she turned around.
Cynthia’s sheer clueless cheeriness was enough to trigger Masera’s competitiveness and stubbornness. The corners of his lips curled slightly.
“Let’s see how long that carefree attitude lasts.”
After the wedding, he planned to show her what kind of terrible choice she had made.
He was looking forward to seeing her fall into despair and helplessness.
* * *
A maid, speaking in stiff military tone, led her to the room.
She firmly emphasized that the bride and groom would use separate rooms until the ceremony.
“Please call if you need assistance.”
“I need help with unpacki—”
Before she could finish, the maid had already left.
Understandable. She probably just wanted to clock out early.
Cynthia looked around the room, grinning from ear to ear.
“This is great.”
The joy of finally having her own room washed over her. In her past life, she’d always had to share one with her sister.
None of the servants from the Count’s house came to help her unpack or attend to her. Maybe because they were all here to keep an eye on her.
“I see there’s no need for freezers here.”
The room was nice, but freezing. She pulled the bell cord to summon a maid.
“There’s not enough firewood. Maybe it’s because the room faces north, but it’s really cold.”
In response, the maid shook her head with a blank face.
“The current amount is sufficient.”
Cynthia glanced at the three logs placed inside the fireplace, then looked back at the maid.
Was this… that classic rofan being bullied by the servants cliché?
“It’s clearly insufficient.”
“Per internal regulations, the daily firewood amount is fixed.”
Regulations? What kind of rich household, living in a mansion like this, rations firewood like a boot camp?
Was this Scrooge’s house or a military survival drill?
“Then… have you been surviving these bone-chilling temperatures with just that much firewood?”
At Cynthia’s concerned expression, the maid looked momentarily flustered.
“If you’re worried about getting in trouble, I’ll go fetch it myself.”
With determination, she strode out of the room. The maid’s voice followed in a panic.
“My Lady, what are you… do you even know where it’s kept?”
“I know. It’s in the south-facing garden storage, right?”
Firewood for the fireplace has to be dried thoroughly in sunlight.
Ten-plus years of servant experience. Cynthia’s brain full of random trivia was really coming in handy.
“What brings you here?”
In front of the south-side storage, a woman who appeared to be a senior maid asked.
Cynthia answered brightly.
“There’s not enough firewood, so I came to get more!”
Struggled to pull out a bundle of logs, I turned to the woman.
“What kind of tyrant expects people to endure a freezing night with so little firewood in this day and age? This house even has a child living in it. The labor union and child welfare groups would not be happy…”
The senior maid clasped her hands politely.
“Brigadier General Masera is not that kind of man. In fact, I believe my lady’s room was allocated more firewood than others.”
Ah, so she thought Cynthia was being greedy and demanding extra.
“There were only three logs. You’re welcome to come see for yourself.”
The senior maid’s face stiffened. At last, she seemed to understand what was going on.
“…Please forgive me. I apologize on behalf of my subordinates. Most of the staff here harbor resentment toward the royal family. I ask that you forgive them with a generous heart.”
Her tone suggested, ‘You’re that bad royal, aren’t you?’
“That’s understandable. Not everyone in the world has to like me.”
Raising your voice or creating a nasty scene wouldn’t work here. That was the amateur move.
“I understand. I tend to get that treatment due to my unique appearance.”
With a sorrowful look, Cynthia met the woman’s eyes. She could see the woman’s pupils shaking as they stared at her silvery-white hair and crimson eyes.
“I—I’m not prejudiced. When I first saw you, I just thought you looked beautiful.”
The true master defuses conflict with a smile, subtly shifting guilt and discomfort onto the other party.
In Cynthia’s experience, it was always better to avoid confrontation when possible.
Fighting wouldn’t end well. She needed to get along.
She glanced at the woman’s strong arms and spoke.
“Thank you, Dahlia. Your amber eyes are beautiful, too.”
“You know my name?”
“Everyone introduced themselves when I first arrived, remember?”
“You remembered all those names at once?”
Surprise was audible in Dahlia’s voice.
Cynthia only smiled in response.
Truthfully, she just happened to remember Dahlia’s name—her brother’s old dog had been named Dahlia Kim.
“Dahlia, will you be my personal maid?”
“If you order me to do so, I suppose I have no choice…”
She sounded like a subordinate reluctantly obeying an unreasonable order.
Hmm. I thought she was almost won over, but the resistance is strong.
On the way back with the firewood, Cynthia again ran into the sharp-tongued, black-haired boy.
“Hi there!”
She greeted him cheerfully, but the child bared his fangs like a hissing cat.
“Why are you still here? Go back to your own house!”
“Why?”
“This is my house!”
“It’s legally my house too. We’re family now.”
“I was family before you got here!”
After a fierce back-and-forth, Cynthia made a suggestion.
“Want to flip a coin for it? If it lands tails, I’ll leave.”
“Okay.”
She tossed the coin high, then clapped her palms together to catch it.
“Alright, time to check!”
The boy puffed out his cheeks when he saw the heads side. He held up three fingers.
“We have to do best of three, like a real match.”
Accepting his terms, she flipped the coin two more times—but it landed heads again both times.
Even when he tossed it himself and it landed heads, the boy looked furious and teary-eyed.
Dahlia gave Cynthia a look like she was watching a childish grown-up.
“It’s not a scam. I’m just lucky with this kind of thing.”
It would’ve been nice if she could’ve won big at gambling and lived well, but luck always comes at a price.
She smiled warmly at the child.
“Don’t chase me out, okay? I’m all alone too.”
At her words, the child’s peridot-colored eyes wavered.
“You don’t have family either, big sis?”
“It’s as good as not having one. What’s your name?”
With a trace of kinship in his gaze, he finally spoke.
“Eugene.”
“A noble name. Whoever gave it to you must love you very much.”
At her comment, Eugene suddenly pouted and stomped his foot.
“I still don’t like you, big sis!”
Then he ran away at full speed.
Guess I’ll have to make that cranky little kitten one of my targets to conquer and scoop up into my basket.
Cynthia imagined Eugene crying and clinging to Masera’s sleeve one day, begging him not to kill her after the truth came out.
That should stop him from actually going through with it, right?
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