* * *
Masera returned to his quarters after settling the matter regarding the servants.
Dahlia approached him with a guilty expression and lowered her head.
“I apologize. There were rumors among the servants that her ladyship was ordering punishments, but I judged them to be nonsense and chose not to report it.”
“What exactly did you base that judgment on?”
Masera loosened his tie and turned to look at her.
Dahlia carefully began to explain.
“From what I’ve seen up close, she’s not someone who handles problems with emotion.”
If she’d said something personal like, she’s a good person or she has a kind heart, it would’ve sounded like empty fluff.
Even notorious criminals who‘ve committed unspeakable atrocities often have people around them insisting, ‘they were always so kind and good natured.’
“She doesn’t try to extract apologies through anger or violence. She waits until people realize their faults on their own and apologize. And the ones who can’t? She thoroughly cuts them off.”
Hearing that, Masera suddenly recalled what Eugene had told him.
“I gave Big Sis a frog, and she didn’t even get mad. She said thank you… it made me feel really all weird. I even wanted to tell her I was sorry.”
If she’d managed to win over both Dahlia and Eugene in such a short time, she clearly wasn’t ordinary.
Masera glanced at his aide, Diego, who nodded as if he agreed, then asked,
“Diego. Why do you have a quill pen? This isn’t the Age of Discovery.”
“It was a gift.”
“From who?”
“Lady Cynthia. She said she’d found an immortal feather of a phoenix, said it ensures long life and made it for me. Of course, I don’t actually believe that. But it’s… kind of vintage and thoughtful.”
Masera felt a weird sense of crisis, like even his aide might get stolen away at this rate.
She was only supposed to stick around long enough for him to get what he wanted and then leave. It would be a real problem if she won people over and took control of the whole place.
Masera felt something annoyingly close to irritation.
‘Isn’t putting on a facade a noble’s specialty? Everyone’s soft when it comes to affection, so of course they’ll fall for it.’
He suddenly remembered that shameless look on her face when she’d lied to her family, claiming it was love at first sight.
He drilled it into his head over and over, almost like brainwashing himself: there’s no way I could ever like her—now or ever, not for the rest of my life.
“Brigadier General, Duke Rukanosa and Lady Helene are planning to proceed straight to the wedding, skipping their engagement ceremony.”
Dahlia’s words pulled him out of his thoughts completely.
“Since her sister has set the date, it’s time to start preparing in earnest for your wedding. Before the harsh winter comes.”
“Why do you have such an eager look on your face?”
Even under his disgruntled gaze, Dahlia simply gave a calm smile.
“Let’s start by ordering the dress. Tell them they have one week to make it.”
“Understood.”
* * *
Once the news broke that Helene had set her wedding date, my own marriage began to move forward at lightning speed.
Except, there wasn’t actually much I had to do.
Dahlia and Diego took care of everything so smoothly that all I needed to do was pick what I liked.
The dress designer even brought the gowns straight to the residence for me to try on.
As Masera tried to slip away, the designer hurriedly stopped him.
“Brigadier General, surely you’d like to see your bride in her dress? And give her lots of compliments?”
“Just pick the most expensive one.”
But when I argued that price alone wouldn’t cut it—his attitude needed to show at least a shred of sincerity—everyone agreed with me.
So he reluctantly sat there, face full of irritation.
When I walked out in the first dress, I half-expected him to look like those grooms in movies—surprised, smitten, moved all at once… but Masera’s reaction was tepid at best.
“That’s fine. Let’s go with the last one.”
“But this is the first dress?”
Even after I tried on about three more, he just kept repeating the same thing.
“Everything suits her so well, it must be hard to pick. I find it difficult too. If pressed, I’d recommend the last one you saw.”
The designer suggested the last dress.
Guess that one was the most expensive. It certainly looked the most luxurious and gorgeous.
“From all the sparkles alone, I’d say that’s my pick too.”
Even Diego, who usually valued practicality, agreed.
It sounded pretty convincing, so I said I liked it too—only for Masera to let out a snort.
“All that fuss, and you just chose the most expensive one anyway. What a waste of time.”
“What Brigadier General Masera means is, it was a waste of time because you would be beautiful in whatever you picked.” Ever loyal Dahlia rushed to patch over her boss’ controversial comment.
Honestly, wasn’t ‘beautiful equals pricey’ the usual standard anyway? He was just going for maximum efficiency.
When I thought about it that way, it made sense, so I didn’t feel that upset.
“Ah, splendid choice. This dress is crafted by hand, each pearl and diamond personally selected from the Mediterranean. Truly, it’s the kind of gown you could wait a lifetime and never have a chance to wear…”
Like a seasoned professional, the designer had already pegged Masera’s impatience and quickly rattled off his explanation.
“Brigadier General, thank you for getting me such a pretty dress. So… where should we go for our honeymoon? I’d love to…”
Once the dress was picked, I scampered over to Masera, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“We’re not going.”
His flat tone made it clear he was dead serious.
“Why not? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing! It’s romantic! It’s basically a vacation!”
“There’s no special meaning to it for us, so I see no need.”
“Traditionally, newlyweds traveled somewhere risky and unfamiliar, learned new sides of each other, bonded even more deeply…”
“If you want to build a bond with me, enlist. That’s what we do in the army.”
“That’s called camaraderie, not romance.”
God, he was like a piece of dried squid—completely devoid of romantic. How heartless.
I pouted and glared at him.
“I’ve never even been abroad. I want to see the ocean. And cute dolphins!”
“You’re throwing a tantrum just like Eugene.”
“I can show you how adults can throw even bigger tantrums.”
Masera didn’t answer. He just sped up and walked ahead.
I hurried after him, chirping on and on like some honeymoon-obsessed parrot, but he seemed to listen with the serene emptiness of a monk.
“I will attend your sister’s wedding with you, though.”
He tossed that out like some huge concession before walking off.
Left standing there alone, I seethed and plotted my revenge.
Someday I’d go on a group trip with all the people here—just leaving him behind. Let him cook and clean all alone while we danced on a tour bus. We’d see how lonely he got then.
* * *
And so came the day of Helene’s wedding.
Seeing the Queensguard family was annoying, but at least I’d get to eat a lot of good food.
The ceremony was being held in the garden of the Duke’s estate.
Who in their right mind holds an outdoor wedding in this kind of freezing cold? I shivered just thinking about it.
“Perfect day, isn’t it? Feels like spring.”
Count Queensguard greeted us, dressed as if it wasn’t freezing at all.
From how cheerful he looked, he clearly didn’t know what had happened with the servants yet.
Masera and I sat side by side at a table shaded by a white parasol.
“Brigadier General, this is maple syrup. It’s all the rage these days. Sweet and pairs great with pancakes.”
I poured syrup over some pancakes and offered him a bite.
“Say ahh—let’s look like we get along.”
When I held out the fork, he leaned away, face showing how much he hated this.
“How long do I have to keep this up?”
“Relationships require a lifelong effort. Whether you like the person or not.”
Seeing that I wouldn’t lower the fork until he ate it, he finally took the bite.
Chewing thoughtfully, he muttered,
“Don’t see what’s so good about it. I don’t care for new things.”
“Do you have the palate of an old man? Then try it with rice syrup instead.”
“What? Strawberry syrup goes on pancakes.”
“So you have the palate of a child.”
We were basically having an argument about syrup, but from the looks we were getting, it must’ve seemed pretty affectionate to the other guests.
Actually, it felt like people were staring at me differently from before. More like I was some intriguing celebrity.
Just then, applause and cheers rose up as the bride, Helene, made her entrance.
I turned my head—and my eyes went wide.
“Huh?”
She was wearing the wedding dress I’d just picked out.
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