Chapter 14

‘What is going on here?’

Cynthia subtly glanced at Massera.

Massera was staring at Helene’s dress with an unreadable expression.

‘Duke Lucanossa snatched it. How childish.’

The duke, who hated losing to Massera even in the smallest things, had intervened to take it for himself.

“...”

Without realizing it himself, Massera checked Cynthia’s expression.

He was certain she would be disappointed and upset, but she remained her usual calm self.

“Geez, I can’t believe she beat me to it. Still, I’m glad we have plenty of time until our wedding.”

“You seemed to like that one though. Aren’t you upset?”

“Why would I be upset? We can just pick another. Just make sure to put more thought into it this time.”

Cynthia then tilted her head and continued speaking.

“But that’s odd. My sister absolutely hates copying others and likes to do her own thing. She even hates popular trends. I guess you could say she’s got the Hongdae Syndrome.”

TL/N: “Hongdae Syndrome” is Korean slang that is often associated with young people who are seen as attention-seekers

“I don’t know what kind of illness that is, but I suppose Duke Lucanossa wanted it.”

“Oh, to wear it himself?”

Cynthia asked, coming to an unbiased conclusion.

He didn’t respond to her. It wasn’t worth answering.

Even though they were enemies, the wedding itself was undeniably splendid and beautiful. The sight of the entire garden blanketed in fresh flowers in the middle of winter was breathtaking.

Cynthia looked around the garden in admiration.

‘They burned through this much money in just one day? Well, it’s not my money, so I suppose it doesn’t concern me. Not like it’s my place to worry about the rich.’

This, too, was just part of the economic cycle.

Thinking to herself, Cynthia rose from her seat. She intended to bring back some cake from the lavish buffet.

But just as she was about to grab a slice, she paused.

Amid a group of women with striking auras and jet-black hair, a discussion about Helene was taking place. Their speech, graceful and refined, flowed in a foreign language.

[“I had expected a well-educated woman since she’s from the royal family, but she’s no different from an ordinary noble girl.”]

[“She would need to know the Medeia language to be able to join our conversation.”]

It was definitely not the local language, yet Cynthia heard it translated naturally in her ears.

The “Medeia” the ladies were speaking of was one of the major powers that ruled over numerous colonies.

‘Come to think of it, black hair is a common trait of the people from Medeia.’

She recalled hearing that Duke Lucanossa’s mother was a distant member of the Medeia royal family.

The group of ladies, likely relatives of the duke’s mother and fellow distant royals of Medeia, continued their gossip.

[“Still, the youngest child bears a strong resemblance to the founding royal family.”]

[“Oh my, there’s the youngest princess. She’s the talk of the social circles lately. ‘Cynthia’ is a nickname for Artemis, the moon goddess, isn’t it? The same goes for Helene too. It seems they were named after goddesses.”]

‘Talk of the social circles?’

Carrying her cake back, Cynthia tilted her head in curiosity.

What could it be about? Could all this attention be because of the unpleasant incident at the engagement ceremony?

“Cindy.”

At the familiar voice, Cynthia blinked in surprise and turned around.

There stood a well-dressed Carlos who smiled at her.

“Did you dress up so nicely because you knew I’d be here?”

Cynthia glanced down at her outfit, then looked back up at him, narrowing her eyes just slightly.

“No. Women dress up to impress other women, you know?”

The reason women usually put so much effort into dressing up was to get the admiration of other women—things like “Sis, you slayed” or “Take me now, girl.”

Carlos cleared his throat with a little cough.

“Lately… I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You used to be so sweet and compliant, and you’d always smile.”

Cynthia, who was bothered by the “compliant” part, let out a sigh.

Just then, Carlos leaned in and whispered quietly.

“I heard that three of your servants died.”

Hearing that, Cynthia smiled again.

“They were stealing military supplies. I was sweating buckets trying to prevent this from affecting the Count’s family.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it was your doing. Unless it was another accident like last time, there’s no way you’d have the guts to do that. If anything, the general probably had something to do with it because of the engagement mess.”

Cynthia said nothing.

“He’s the kind of ruthless man who can kill his wife’s servants without a second thought. So do you think you’ll be any different?”

It was a warning not to even think of turning to Massera for help.

“Cindy, you’d better behave yourself after you get married. It’ll be troublesome if you get pregnant, after all. I mean, it’s not like he’d treat you any differently just because you’re carrying his child.”

Under the sunlight, Cynthia, who had been staring off into space, finally broke the long silence.

“Are you done with the bullcrap parade? I’ve got cake to eat.”

“When did I say any bullcrap?”

“Hmm… I don’t recall asking. But you were saying you liked a divorcee who's pure, compliant, and doesn’t have children or something, right?”

A look of disbelief crossed Carlos’s face as he realized she hadn’t been listening to him at all.

Meanwhile, Massera was watching the two from a distance.

They were only talking, but it made him uncomfortable the entire time. Perhaps even more than before, when it had been just a slight irritation.

It was strange how that pale presence began to affect his mood.

Clatter.

Along with the sound of a plate being set down, Cynthia appeared with a smile, her cheeks flushed red.

“General, you like this too, right? Let’s eat together. The cake is frozen solid though.”

“How fascinating.”

Massera gave a half-hearted reply and looked away.

“All right, back to looking like a sweet couple.”

Surprisingly, Cynthia gave him the strawberry on her cake and Massera, aware of Carlos watching, obediently accepted it.

Soon, a crunching sound came from his mouth as the frozen strawberry broke apart.

“...”

“Geez, I told you it was frozen.”

***

The ceremony ended before long, and the duke and Helene went inside to change into party attire for the reception.

The duke smiled proudly, satisfied with having held a grand wedding that no one could easily imitate.

‘Massera, do you seriously think you could pull off a wedding like mine? Even if you did, you’d just be wasting money on a fake.’

As he basked in self-satisfaction, Helene expressed her gratitude.

“I’m truly moved that you personally prepared such a special dress.”

Until now, he had always maintained the cold, businesslike demeanor typical of a political marriage.

The scorn of her mother-in-law, distant royalty from a powerful nation, and her relatives also caused her considerable stress.

So she was touched by the duke’s unexpected gesture of sincerity.

For today, Helene considered herself the happiest person alive as she attended the reception and greeted each guest.

Amid the stream of well-wishes, one of the duke’s maternal relatives commented on Helene’s wedding dress.

“It seems you wore a Mary-Siren wedding dress. I heard it takes years just to place an order.”

“Yes, I’m very thankful that so much thought was put into it.”

Helene’s cheeks flushed.

The lady tucked her black hair back and smiled gracefully.

“It would seem so. But word is that General Vicente procured the pearls and diamonds himself to have it custom-made for the princess. I wonder if he canceled the order because he had a change of heart. Even so, those materials are hard to—”

“Madam!”

Someone urgently stopped her in a panic.

The comment, clearly meant to humiliate the duke’s family, caused the Dowager Duchess’s face to flush red with fury.

Helene’s expression turned icy.

‘General Vicente had that dress made for Cynthia? And the duke made me wear it?’

Helene’s clenched fists trembled slightly.

Meanwhile, Cynthia—completely unaware that the dress had originally been made for her—stood there, mouth agape in surprise.