‘So I’ve been found out.’
Masera let out a mental sigh.
But he was excellent at keeping a straight face, so he showed no reaction outwardly.
Meanwhile, Cynthia had both hands covering her mouth as she stared at him. She was remembering how all those dresses she tried on had been decorated with pearls and gemstones.
“Wait, are you telling me… all of those dresses were custom-made? And each one takes years… So then when did you even start… Was that all for me…?”
Just as Cynthia’s mind was about to whip up a dramatic backstory like, “We actually met once when we were children,” Masera shut it down.
“No. The designer at Maryseiren’s Atelier owes me a debt, so she expedited the production.”
Cynthia’s moment of awe fizzled right out.
But then someone nearby spoke up in surprise.
“No wonder. I heard someone recently cleaned out all the best pearls from the Mediterranean and bought up all the high-purity diamonds. It was Brigadier General Vicente, wasn’t it?”
“Wow… even a stern soldier can be melted by a sweet princess. So jealous.”
Before he knew it, Masera had been branded a hopelessly devoted husband, madly in love with his wife.
Hoping desperately that they would stop talking, Masera pressed his aching head and sighed.
“I’m sorry I kept pestering you about going on a honeymoon. I had no idea…”
Cynthia looked genuinely apologetic.
She probably thought he’d blown so much on dresses that there wasn’t any money left for a trip.
Masera gave her a resigned look.
“It’s not that dire.”
“I know. Even people with money cut down on wasteful spending. I’ll live frugally too. I can tape newspapers over the windows to save on firewood.”
She had misunderstood entirely.
Now he was either a struggling breadwinner or a miserly penny-pincher — or both.
Just then, someone nearby voiced the question.
“But did the Duchy buy a canceled dress, or… steal it midway?”
“Custom orders can’t be canceled, from what I know. So they must’ve stolen it. Their body types are similar anyway.”
“No way. Her sister took the dress that was made just for her? Even knowing what it means when a husband prepares a gown for his bride?”
No one suspected that Duke Rukanosa’s petty jealousy toward Masera was the real reason.
They naturally assumed it was just the older sister snatching something that belonged to the younger one.
“…Your Grace, I think this calls for an explanation.”
“Let’s talk about it later.”
Helene, her face gone pale, tried to demand an answer, but the Duke brushed her off and moved toward the politicians, shaking hands.
The Duke’s refusal to answer and his swift retreat was practically a confession.
“Wow, what kind of sister does that?”
“Tsk, a wedding dress is so important. Her sister must be devastated.”
Everyone’s judgmental eyes turned to her.
Helene was drowning in unbearable shame and fury.
‘He’s pinning this on me to save his own image? What kind of slimy bastard pulls something like that?’
She held back the urge to scream that she had zero interest in some lowborn maid’s hand-me-downs.
But she couldn’t exactly announce that the Duke had done this out of inferiority toward Brigadier General Vicente, a former war orphan.
If she protected her pride now, she knew she’d lose far more in the long run. She had at least that much reason and self-control.
Helene clenched her teeth, her eyes glinting with venom.
‘I’ll never let this slide. When I reclaim my royal authority, I’ll make you pay for this tenfold.’
Cynthia could sense the storm of resentment roiling inside Helene — but she had no interest in setting the record straight.
She merely watched from her usual detached observer’s perch — the one Helene had always claimed to value.
* * *
“Brigadier General. I didn’t realize you’d gone to all that trouble with the dresses, and I made such a careless comment. I’m sorry. It must’ve upset you, seeing it get stolen like that.”
At Cynthia’s apology, Masera slowly shook his head.
“Like you said, we can just get a new one. I can get them to complete it in a week.”
“But… why’d you put so much effort into the dresses?”
Masera’s brow furrowed slightly. It was a question he very much didn’t want to answer.
“Hearts are like a box. If you fill it with treasure, it becomes a treasure chest. But if you fill it with trash, it becomes a trash can. Masera, make sure to fill your future wife’s heart with treasures.”
“I was only following my late mother’s advice. A wedding lasts a single day, but for the rest of your life…”
That meaningful day can either become a box full of treasured memories you can open and enjoy again, or a wound you never want to touch.
‘Still, what the hell was I thinking?’
Did he really need to give Cynthia happy memories just because of his mother’s advice? Even he didn’t understand why he’d done it.
He felt a sudden wave of irritation at himself for barely being able to stop himself from saying something ridiculously sentimental.
“Oh, I think I get it.”
Cynthia nodded in understanding, then suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand.
“I’ll make an effort to create good memories together as well. I don’t have money right now, so I can’t give you things like that… but one day, I’ll spoil you rotten.”
She sounded like a poor fellow proposing to a rich girl, then slipped something onto his finger.
Masera looked down at his middle finger.
It was a ring—made from a gold twist-tie from a bread-bag, with a bead-sized candy stuck on like a gemstone.
“…What.”
“It’s a magic ring that brings wealth.”
“I told you, I’m not poor.”
Masera was honestly baffled. So that’s what she’d been fiddling with under the table.
Cynthia spoke.
“Stuff doesn’t last forever, you know. What really stays with you isn’t stuff—it’s memories. Like remembering this ring and laughing later.”
It was the kind of thing only someone who’s lost everything might say.
In fact, it was strikingly similar to his mother’s last words, after losing her husband and everything else in the war.
Masera, staring at Cynthia in a daze without even realizing it, finally blinked and ran a hand through his hair.
“Brigadier General, that ring—where’s it from? Looks unique.”
A group of businessmen who’d come over to chat had noticed the ring on his finger.
Masera replied calmly.
“A gemstone… that brings wealth…”
“Oh! Is it an upcycled edition? Some luxury brands are leaning eco-friendly these days.”
Masera just nodded as if that were true.
He went on to mingle with the politicians, but for some reason, it felt like none of them could quite meet Cynthia’s eyes.
“Am I imagining things, or is everyone avoiding eye contact with me?”
Cynthia frowned. Someone finally clued her in.
“You didn’t hear? Princess, you’ve become the talk of the town. Ever since we saw that article… we’re all feeling a little intimidated. Not that we take bribes or feel guilty or anything, ha ha ha!”
At some point, people had started calling Cynthia that cringe-worthy ‘Princess’ title, and every time they did, it made her deeply uncomfortable.
Still feeling awkward, Cynthia glanced down at the newspaper the man handed her—and her eyes went wide.
“Ack.”
『Princess Cynthia Queensguard, the beauty said to carry the legend of the Frost Queen.
Bearing an uncanny resemblance to the very first Frost Queen, she has proven herself capable of dodging thousands of arrows.
She effortlessly avoided a massive chandelier falling overhead, detected hidden traps placed throughout the venue, and exuded such fierce presence even amidst a hail of bullets that she neutralized her opponent on the spot.
Most shocking of all, she could read minds just by looking into someone’s eyes.
Having read the mind of a perpetrator disguised as a guest at her engagement ceremony, she switched out her poisoned wine with his, and made him drink poison instead.
Could the blessing of the ‘Goddess of Fortune’ once again be shining on the Bariesa Royal Family?』
…Wasn’t this just the plot of a sci-fi action movie? Cynthia looked completely dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, Masera was studying the ‘wealth bringing gemstone ring’ still on his finger, amidst a dull conversation with some guests,
‘She really loves attaching meaning to things.’
Maybe that was how she stayed so cheerful.
Right then, the Duke’s butler approached him with a courteous smile.
“It looks like we’ll have heavy snow this afternoon. It might be a good idea for Their Highnesses to spend the night and share a bit more sisterly bonding time. We’ve already prepared a room for Brigadier General and the Princess.”
Masera looked up at the now-overcast sky, then turned to Cynthia as if asking for her opinion. She rubbed at her eyes, which had grown redder than usual under her parasol.
“I’d like to go up and rest now. It’s cold, and I’ve been outside for hours. I’m exhausted.”
“I was thinking the same.”
And so, the two of them were led to their room in silence, the air between them awkward and quiet.
“As you’re about to be married, I imagine you’ll be sharing a room?”
Neither of them managed to say anything to that—so in the end, they were given the same room.
A spacious room, yes… but one with just one bed.
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