Chapter 17
- zxsona
- Jun 22
- 7 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
The duke, who had been maintaining a subtle tension in his expression, now smiled perfectly. With the genteel smile of a nobleman, he said—
“How interesting. I suppose there’s a reason people say you can read others’ innermost thoughts.”
It’s just that I became more perceptive from going through war. You’d die if you lacked awareness, after all.
He then held out his hand, offering to escort me.
“It’s almost time for dinner anyway, so let’s go together. I’m sure the General will be at the dining hall shortly. I’ve been wanting to have a chat with you too, Your Highness.”
With the fact that he had stolen the dress, it was clear he had some ulterior motive. But finding Massera in this enormous mansion would be nearly impossible, so I decided I might as well eat.
“The General tends to be rather indifferent. Doesn’t that upset you?”
At the duke’s question, I immediately shook my head.
Even if my identity gets exposed, I have to stay on Massera’s good side so that he’ll turn a blind eye and go, “I’ve grown too attached to kill her… I should pretend not to know.”
The duke continued—
“Given that he’s a war orphan, his values must be different from those of us who have been raised as nobles.”
I went quiet for a moment and looked at him.
Why is he saying this to me? Thinking of the hardships Massera must have faced, I felt a pang in my heart.
In a calm voice, I spoke up.
“If you accept that people are different, there’s no reason to be upset. After all, conflict begins from differing opinions.”
Of course, I didn’t reveal how I truly felt and pretended to be composed. That was what this man wanted—to see me sympathizing with Massera.
The duke met my gaze.
“Acceptance, you say? I’d like to hear more about that.”
I just read about it in a relationship advice book, so I actually don’t know much. However, he looked like a university professor who’d just found an exceptional student.
“Everyone grows up differently, so naturally, our personalities, tendencies, values, and priorities vary too. Even little things like taste in food can be different. So recognizing those differences, being willing to compromise, and adjusting to each other—that’s what we call ‘understanding.’ Speaking of ‘understanding,’ I can’t not bring up what happened back in my hometown. You see, during the harsh winter up north—”
I rambled on like a baseball player who is famous for talking too much.
My plan was to keep talking before he could ask any more uncomfortable questions on our way to the dining hall.
“Understanding, huh…”
With a voice tinged with sentiment, the duke nodded and turned to give me a small smile.
“The general has found himself an excellent partner.”
He seemed unusually attentive when it came to Massera.
Not only did he keep talking about him, but his facial expressions would also subtly change.
No way, did he steal the dress because…?
I shuddered as I imagined the duke tearing up our wedding photo and replacing Massera with his own photo.
My imagination, please stop!
***
At last, we arrived at the dining hall where the Queensguard family and a group of elegant, cold-looking black-haired ladies were seated.
Their green eyes, each with a slightly different hue, were all fixed on Cynthia.
‘Those three… their aura is no joke.’
Cynthia felt slightly intimidated by their chilly reception.
“Please, have a seat.”
The Dowager Duchess gestured toward Cynthia.
The duke pulled out a chair and spoke up.
“We had been chatting, so I personally escorted Her Highness to the dining hall.”
“I see. Judging by her expression, it must have been an enjoyable conversation.”
Cynthia always had a bright expression, but seeing the two arrive together, the Dowager Duchess assumed the misunderstanding over the dress had been cleared up.
That had been the duke’s intention all along.
Helene glanced briefly at Cynthia and the duke, then simply gave a small nod.
‘Was it really necessary to explain things to a maid pretending to be a fake?’
She had a hunch that the two of them had been talking about something else entirely.
Soon, Massera returned, snowflakes still clinging to his coat’s shoulders.
“Where were you? I was looking everywhere for you.”
In fact, Cynthia hadn’t looked for him at all, but she spoke as if she’d been frantically searching the entire mansion.
“Why do you insist on knowing every little thing?”
He replied in a low voice as well.
“Is that not allowed?”
“It would be good if you respected some degree of privacy.”
Massera said this offhandedly as he removed his damp gloves.
The duke’s comment about a “secret lover” and Massera’s curt reply were enough to stir suspicion or even hurt someone’s feelings.
Normally, the female lead of a regretful novel would feel depressed and hurt, but Cynthia didn’t think much of it.
‘He must’ve been secretly making a snowman. I should add some buttons to it later.’
Cynthia smiled to herself as she imagined Massera hiding in some corner, building a tiny snowman.
And soon, the meal began.
Though smiles were worn all around, there was a faint sense of tension in the air as both families were present.
“I’ve specially arranged for traditional dishes from my hometown.”
With the Dowager Duchess’s introduction, a bizarre pie with sardine heads sticking out of it at odd angles appeared. The sardines’ vacant eyes looked like they were pleading for help, as if poking their heads out of a swamp.
A faint look of bewilderment appeared on the faces of the Queensguard family upon seeing the grotesque dish.
‘Is this dish meant to insult us?’
The count nervously picked up his fork.
Still, it was only proper manners to taste the food first and then offer some comments.
At that moment, Cynthia, who had tasted the food without hesitation, spoke first.
“Oh, this is…”
‘Please, don’t show how ignorant you are and just keep your mouth shut!’
The count shot her a disapproving glance, but Cynthia just smiled brightly and continued.
“It’s simple in appearance and the ingredients don’t seem like they’d go well together, but the flavors blend together in a surprisingly delicious way.”
When the count, who had been watching the Dowager Duchess’s expression, was taken aback, Edford took it upon himself to speak out.
“Calling the food the Dowager Duchess served ‘simple’? How can you say such a careless thing about the gourmet cuisine served to Medeia’s nobility?”
In response, Cynthia simply smiled.
“But it’s not gourmet cuisine. It’s a commoners’ dish.”
“Why would high nobility eat the food of commoners? Use your head.”
Edford grumbled openly. He was secretly hoping Cynthia’s ignorance would get her kicked out by Massera.
“Cynthia, you shouldn’t judge by appearances. Even a child’s scribble could be a priceless piece of art.”
Helene too, in a falsely refined tone, chided her for her ignorance.
Cynthia shook her head.
“Sister, this is the ‘Stargazing Sardine Pie’ that the fishermen from port towns used to eat. It’s a festive dish that honors the fishermen who braved the snowstorm to catch sardines when everyone was starving because they couldn’t catch any fish.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the Dowager Duchess and the black-haired ladies widened their eyes in surprise.
“How do you know about that, Princess? This is a nostalgic dish we used to enjoy at festivals when we were young girls. It’s hard to find nowadays, so not many know of it. Do you perhaps happen to have an interest in Medeia?”
The Dowager Duchess, who had maintained a cold expression until now, spoke with a slightly excited tone.
“I’ve always held deep respect and admiration for Medeia. Its tea culture is wonderful and it offers broad access to diverse cultural experiences. And the chivalry and consideration for the vulnerable that are fundamental to its civic consciousness—I think there’s much to learn from that. Come to think of it, the grace and elegance shown by the Dowager Duchess and the princesses here feel like the very embodiment of Medeia itself.”
Cynthia spoke fluidly, sharing what she knew without pause.
Of course, she left out the country’s ruthless colonial exploitation.
In truth, she had binge-read every book she could find on Medeia after hearing that Helene’s mother-in-law was a distant member of the “Medeia royal family.”
She had originally planned to win over even Helene’s in-laws, but as she read more, she found it resembled a country she knew from her past life and became personally intrigued. That was why she had suggested going there for their honeymoon.
Of course, the cold-hearted Massera didn’t even bother hearing out her request.
‘Eugene has black hair and green eyes too, just like the high nobility of Medeia.’
“My goodness…”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes became slightly teary. She was struggling to maintain her composure as joy welled up.
Cynthia, noticing the Dowager Duchess’s brow wrinkle slightly from emotion, thought to herself.
‘She came to a foreign country to get married, so of course she’d miss her homeland.’
It was clear enough from how she kept her sisters around at the duke’s estate.
When living alone in a foreign country, who wouldn’t feel touched and develop fondness when a foreigner says something like, “Korea is the best!” and praises how good kimchi and doenjang taste?
TL/N: “doenjang” is fermented soybean paste that’s often used in Korean soups, stews, and as seasoning
“We’re planning to go to Medeia for our honeymoon. As you may know, circumstances haven’t really allowed it until now… That’s why I’m truly happy that I can finally visit the place I’ve always dreamed of.”
At Cynthia’s wistful smile and heartfelt words, the ladies couldn’t help but feel empathy and compassion.
“I have a villa in the north. It has a wonderful view of the coastline and beautiful scenery.”
“No, she must go to the capital. I’ll make reservations for them at a luxury hotel owned by the royal family.”
“No. Now that we’re in-laws, she should stay as an honored guest in the royal palace. I’ll send word to my palace…”
The ladies eagerly began arranging accommodations for Cynthia’s honeymoon.
‘…I said we weren’t going.’
Quietly slicing his sardine pie, Massera swallowed his regret along with the sardines.
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