“Uncle, Big sis has woken up. You’re her husband, so go see big sis quickly.”
Why am I uncle and Cynthia is big sis? Shouldn’t she be an aunt?
Anyway, following Eugene’s order, Masera dragged his tired body that hadn’t slept at all towards the bedroom.
Somehow it felt like a criminal heading to the courtroom.
‘I didn’t say anything wrong.’
But he had hurt her. That much was certain.
The woman who usually laughed off everything he said had worn such a pained expression that day.
He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he recalled Cynthia’s sorrowful face.
When Major Rodriguez asked if Cynthia had experienced an air raid, he answered as the Count had told him – that it was just aftereffects from going on a hunt.
Then that damned Major said:
“Regardless of the severity or triviality of the triggering incident, isn’t it true that she’s suffering?”
Masera felt a sense of realization.
He was no better than a stranger, a husband who couldn’t empathize with his wife’s pain.
To think he only realized this after hearing the Major’s words. Guilt and frustration at his own incompetence welled up inside him.
On the cruise ship for their honeymoon, Cynthia had already talked about what she feared.
“Gunshots, explosion sounds, alarm sirens and such…”
“P.S. – About Cynthia mentioning ‘air raids’ that have nothing to do with her… Could it be that she told an adorable lie to get her husband’s attention, since the Brigadier General takes such good care of war victims?”
After reading the Count’s letter, he had only thought she had deceived him.
Forgetting the fact that even family members consider those suffering from war trauma as flawed.
Especially if it’s a child to be put on the marriage market.
If it was the Count who had lied, then the alarm and explosion that day must have been a huge trigger for her.
He entered the bedroom with mixed feelings, then quickly turned and came back out.
“…”
Through the open bedroom door, he saw Cynthia with her head bowed low, tears dripping and soaking the bandages wrapped around her hand.
‘Did I make her cry again? Because of me?’
With this, the guilty verdict was confirmed, and a prison sentence determined.
He only knew how to command troops and devise strategies and tactics, but had no idea how to comfort a crying woman.
Returning to his office with heavy steps, Diego said to him:
“Are you coming back from seeing the Princess?”
“No.”
Though he had seen her. Masera shook his head.
Diego, who had been watching the two during their cold war, chided him.
“Isn’t it time you made up? What will you do if rumors of discord start spreading already?”
Masera didn’t respond, his gaze fixed out the window.
As his aide, Diego had an inkling of why Masera had married Cynthia.
‘He has no choice but to be cold. It was the expected scenario for most.’
But Princess Cynthia was someone you simply couldn’t be cold to.
Even he had tried to treat her formally in line with his superior’s wishes, but…
‘It wasn’t easy.’
With her kind face and childlike smile, and unpretentious personality that didn’t feel aristocratic at all.
Even the mansion staff who had secretly tried to badmouth and bully her ended up being won over.
“I’m the one who ruined the Princess’s shoes. I did it because I hated her so much then. I’m sorry.”
“Huh? I didn’t even know that. I just thought they were defective.”
For one, Cynthia herself didn’t seem to notice when others tried to bully her.
She also didn’t seem to pay much attention to others’ negative emotions towards her.
Of course there were some truly malicious ones who would put thumbtacks in her shoes or pour slippery detergent on the floor.
But each time, Cynthia would coincidentally wear different shoes on a whim, or an innocent head maid would slip instead and catch the culprit, allowing her to avoid all the traps by chance.
It was as if she had some inexplicable divine protection that prevented anyone from carelessly messing with her.
Diego clutched the “Phoenix feather pen of longevity” Cynthia had given him and advised:
“Brigadier General. Pardon my impertinence, but why don’t you try getting along well with the Princess?”
“Isn’t this already treating her well? I give her meals and a warm room. Wanting more than that is greedy.”
Masera glared at Diego with cold eyes.
‘Even my own aide is saying the same thing as Queen Medea.’
Does she have some ability to make everyone like her?
At this rate, she might turn all the mansion staff to her side and take over.
‘What else is there to see besides being pretty, kind, sociable and fairly clever?’
As his thoughts trailed on, Masera made a startled expression, then irritably ruffled his own hair.
“…I’ve been had.”
He must have fallen victim to her brainwashing and manipulation abilities. That’s what he wanted to believe.
Lost in thought, Masera turned to Diego and asked:
“Did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t know why you fought, but you should always say the husband is at fault no matter what.”
Right, I was probably in the wrong.
For rashly judging the feelings of someone who threw their own body to save a child, and speaking harsh words.
And for not listening carefully to the difficulties she was facing, and misunderstanding based only on the Count’s letter.
Masera believed he should acknowledge his mistakes, no matter who the other party was.
Seeing his furrowed brows in deep reflection, Diego suggested:
“Why don’t you buy her flowers and a gift as a gesture of reconciliation?”
“Do you think I’d do such an embarrassing thing?”
Masera rose from his seat with a fierce scowl.
Speaking as if he would absolutely never give a reconciliation gift, he asked:
“But what would be a good gift?”
“It would be best to give something the Princess likes, but generally people give sparkly things. Shall I go get something?”
Masera sighed as he draped his coat over his shoulders.
“I have some business to take care of anyway, so I’ll just go myself.”
* * *
Heading into town, Masera stood blankly in front of a flower shop for a long while.
‘I’ve never bought flowers for anyone before. I’ve never even been inside one.’
This felt as daunting as entering the heart of enemy territory.
[Sonnenschirm Flower Shop]
And the flower shop’s name made him not want to go in from the start.
“What are you hesitating for? Come in like a man.”
But provoked by the flower shop owner holding a tiny flowerpot with his large frame, he found himself stepping inside before he knew it.
“What kind of flowers are you looking for?”
“Well, I don’t know much about flowers. White ones.”
“Are they for a memorial?”
“No.”
“Who are you giving them to?”
Masera cleared his throat with a nonchalant face.
“I’m giving them to my wife.”
The shop owner laughed heartily.
“Ah, you’re becoming a romantic. The start is always hard, but when you see your loved one’s happy smile, you’ll feel like you rule the world. There’s joy in giving, not just receiving.”
‘He talks too much. I’m never coming back.’
Masera decided inwardly.
It was as annoying as a persistent salesperson, and the unpleasantness was indescribable.
“Sir, how about baby’s breath? The flower meaning is ‘moment of love’…”
“I’ll take that.”
“What shape would you like for the ribbon?”
“Please just do whatever you think is best.”
Masera urged, wanting to leave quickly.
After hastily buying the baby’s breath bouquet and exiting, Masera stopped by the Capital Defense Command to inquire about the recent gas explosion incident at a factory, where he was mercilessly teased by everyone.
“A bouquet?! Wow, you’ve become such a romantic since getting married!”
“To think the day would come when the Brigadier General buys flowers. So this is what the Princess’s man looks like in love.”
Masera was filled with regret.
‘I shouldn’t have bought the flowers first.’
Enduring the shame and humiliation, he met with the intelligence officer to hear an explanation about the explosion incident.
“The site of the explosion was a firearms manufacturing plant, which was being used by spies for illegal arms deals. A conflict arose with the gun trafficking organization, and in the process, gas exploded. The dealers and spies were all killed in the blast.”
Masera examined the photos of the deceased who were identified as spies.
“…”
Among them was the person who had been tailing them at the Medea Ferris wheel.
It seemed he had luckily escaped after Masera ordered his capture and execution, only to die here.
“It looks like radical People’s Liberation Front members and fallen Imperial forces are mixed in.”
The intelligence officer in charge of the investigation nodded at Masera’s words.
“We issued an order to disband the People’s Liberation Front after the engagement ceremony attack, but it seems they’re still operating in secret.”
The intelligence officer added some advice:
“Please be careful, as they may target your wife.”
On his way back after finishing the conversation, Masera stopped in his tracks upon seeing an opal hairpin displayed in a jewelry store window.
“Something sparkly.”
It was what Diego had mentioned.
The opal, which looked white at first glance but contained various colors, somehow resembled Cynthia a lot.
After purchasing the hairpin, he stopped again in front of a dessert shop.
“Something to eat.”
It was what Cynthia liked.
He bought a chocolate cake topped with plenty of cherries. He remembered her saying cherries were delicious.
Coming out of the dessert shop, Masera was startled by his reflection in the glass. He saw himself holding a lovely cake box and a ribbon-tied bouquet.
Seeing this unfamiliar version of himself was unbearable. He wanted to hurry back before anyone witnessed him in this state.
Finally, after buying materials to make a cat house, he headed back to the mansion.
And as soon as he entered the front garden, he spotted Cynthia smiling brightly at Brigadier General Steve, who was nitpicking about her every action.
She was free to smile at whoever she wanted, but for some reason it made his irritation surge.
Oh, man. Steve, your timing is baaad
Steve is damn annoying. Get Steve outta here