TTMLPTWW – Chapter 8

Princess Margarita.

The last surviving royal and the former Countess of Queensguard.

Cynthia wore the same clear, radiant smile the Duke remembered from his childhood.

Count Queensguard leaned in and whispered to the Duke, who was staring blankly at her.

“Fortunate, isn’t it? That you’re not the one being duped right now.”

“…Unbelievable.”

He had briefly doubted it, but the idea of using a maid—especially one that could help immensely in the marriage market—as a royal descendant made no sense.

The Duke composed himself and returned a polite smile.

“Lady Cynthia. May the grace of the gods bless your future.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Cynthia was completely unaware that the Duke now knew who she really was.

Helene approached with a champagne glass in hand and raised it slightly toward Cynthia.

“Cindy, are you liking life in the capital?”

“Yup.”

Cynthia casually responded informally.

Helene took her hand with a fond smile still lingering on her face.

“I’m so glad we’re living in the same city now.”

“I know, isn’t it? Absolutely wonderful. Duke, is it okay if I drop by to visit my sister often?”

Her innocent question made the Duke nod without hesitation.

“Of course. You’re welcome anytime.”

“Please take good care of my pretty sister. She acts all aloof like a cat, but inside she’s as soft as a baby mouse.”

Helene’s expression shifted slightly at that comment.

‘Did she just insult me? Or am I overthinking this?’

Whether it was meant as backhanded shade or a compliment was unclear.

Still, the makeshift image of family they had created looked surprisingly natural—largely thanks to how effortlessly Cynthia played her part.

“Brother Edford, your nose looks even bigger. Is it still growing?”

“How rude…!”

Edford turned red as Cynthia leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“That’s what real siblings are like. Try to keep up.”

“Then why do you keep speaking informally to me?”

“I’m part of the family now, aren’t I?”

“Ugh…”

He almost blurted, ‘You’re just a lowly maid,’ but managed to swallow it down. If he said it out loud, they’d all be dead.

Cynthia knew that perfectly well. That’s why she wielded her sarcasm like a dagger, so openly.

Just then, Masera approached with a plate of cake and came to stand beside Cynthia.

Edford, momentarily stunned, found himself staring. The man’s solid build in uniform and his striking looks were difficult to ignore.

“Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy some time with your family—it’s been a while, after all.”

Masera seemed ready to make a polite exit after the brief greeting, but Cynthia casually linked arms with him, effectively keeping him in place.

“Honey, what took you so long?”

Honey? Masera’s lips flattened into a line before he quickly relaxed them, glancing around.

She had given him strict orders: ‘Look like you’re madly in love with me in front of my family.’

Of course, he had no intention of actually obeying her. Absolutely not.

Lifting his chin with dignified arrogance, Masera replied coolly,

“There was strawberry cake over there.”

“Oh? That’s my favorite! You brought it just for me, didn’t you? So sweet.”

He hadn’t meant to do any such thing, but Cynthia twisted it that way without missing a beat.

She plucked a strawberry right off the top of his cake and popped it in her mouth.

Masera stared down at the now-defiled slice.

‘…This is infuriating.’

And yet she smiled brightly, as if she’d done nothing wrong.

“Is it good?”

“Yes! It tastes even better because it’s from you, Brigadier General.”

Masera couldn’t shake the feeling that she was completely running circles around him.

Still, he was good at hiding his emotions—So from the outside, he looked like a man secretly smitten with his fiancée.

“Cindy, you two already seem so close.”

It was Carlos’s voice.

Masera turned to find Carlos looking at him, face stiff.

He remembered the ugly rumors he’d heard through Dahlia—about some unpleasant scandal between Cynthia and Carlos.

There was no solid proof, but when it came to gossip, truth was irrelevant.

Cynthia gave a confident nod and tightened her grip on Masera’s arm.

“Of course. He fell for me at first sight.”

‘When did I?’

Masera furrowed his brow, and Cynthia glanced up at him.

“Same here. I fell for him at first sight too.”

The moment she said it, a jolt ran through him. Something sharp lodged itself in his chest.

‘What a troublesome woman.’

Masera let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his bangs.

Meanwhile, the Count Queensguard watched their subtle exchange with an inner grimace.

‘…So even Brigadier General Vicente is just a man in the end. Who’d have thought he’d act like a tamed mutt in front of her.’

He had already suspected Cynthia was no ordinary woman, seeing how she had Edford and Carlos wrapped around her finger.

And the Duke was discreetly observing the pair as well.

‘You’re telling me she managed to change him this much, this fast?’

Having served in the military with Masera, he was well-acquainted with the man’s cold personality.

The Masera he knew would never let someone steal a strawberry from his cake.

‘Might be a waste to just use her as a pawn and toss her aside.’

Narrowing his eyes, the Duke stared at Cynthia.

Thinking of Masera falling hopelessly in love with her—and being tormented when she was gone—didn’t seem like such a bad outcome.

* * *

As the party hit its stride, Cynthia poked Masera’s arm while watching the couples dance in the hall.

Masera, hiding another plate of strawberry cake behind his back, looked down at her.

“Ask me to dance. They say the man’s supposed to initiate.”

He tilted his head slightly, intrigued.

Most nobles hid their true feelings, and rarely asked for things so directly.

“What if I say no?”

“I’ll dance with someone else. Maybe Eugene.”

Far off in the distance, Eugene—who had just made eye contact with Cynthia—was now hiding behind Dahlia.

Just then, someone stepped forward and extended a hand toward her.

“Brigadier General Vicente. Mind if I borrow Cindy for a moment?”

It was Carlos, wearing a gentle smile.

Masera dropped his gaze and stared at him.

Why does he keep trying to pick a fight?

“You refer to her like she’s an object.”

Carlos shook his head and smiled like it was nothing.

“Of course not. She’s my dearest little sister. I just want to dance with her—it’s been a while.”

Cynthia frowned as she watched the two men quietly clash.

‘What’s Carlos’s problem? Did the cold weather freeze his brain?’

In her memories, Carlos had always been emotionally distant, cold whenever she reached out.

He only showed kindness right when she was ready to give up.

‘Whatever, I’ll just eat cookies with Eugene.’

Cynthia took three steps toward Eugene—

And suddenly felt a chill on her back.

At the same time—

CRASH—!

A chandelier hanging from the ceiling came crashing down and shattered.

“Wh-what the—?!”

Gasps and screams rippled through the crowd.

Cynthia stared at the spot where she’d just been standing—where the shards now lay—and swallowed dryly.

Then her gaze met Masera’s.

He was standing right behind her, one hand slightly outstretched.

There was a flicker of alarm in his eyes before it quickly vanished.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re hurt.”

Really! That’s it? Not even a ‘Thank god you’re okay’?

Cynthia looked stunned.

Carlos rushed over, full of fake concern.

“Cindy! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Thankfully, no one was injured. After a brief moment to clean up, the party resumed.

Then a politician raised a champagne glass and boomed,

“Ha ha! We need to lift the mood again. Don’t they say royals are born with special abilities? Lady Cynthia, your unique appearance—surely it comes with a unique talent. Care to show us?”

He was a commoner-turned-lawmaker, known to oppose the monarchy.

His comment dripped with provocation, and all eyes turned to her.

Edford stepped up, eager to humiliate her.

“Of course, Congressman. Cynthia here has an especially rare talent.”

Count Queensguard gave her a subtle look.

Now that it had come to this, she’d have to show them something.

‘Come to think of it, I was warned that anti-royal guests would be attending.’

Cynthia had already scanned and cataloged every guest in the room.

She smiled brightly.

“I’ll show you.”

She had a servant bring her pen and paper.

“Since I was little, I’ve always been able to guess what people were thinking. I’m not sure why.”

She met eyes with the congressman.

Looking into her crimson eyes, he felt as though something had taken hold of him.

Then her voice—low and calm—echoed in his mind.

“It’s almost like I can read your thoughts.”

His pupils trembled slightly.

‘If you’ve staked your life on something, then you’d better be ready to deceive the entire world.’

Cynthia’s red eyes glinted with an uncanny light.

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