Chapter 38

Massera had noticed some men acting suspiciously outside the ferris wheel.

As the fog lifted, the round, distinct handwriting on the paper they were holding became clear.

It was Cynthia’s handwriting and the paper they held was the itinerary she had written out.

‘Did they follow us here? Or are they operating locally?’

As a key figure in the war, he had countless enemies targeting him. His spouse, too, would naturally become a target.

That was why he had refused all other proposals and chosen the princess of Variessa as his wife.

Whether something happened to her or not didn’t matter—Massera only cared about getting what he wanted.

So there was no reason to worry about or care for her.

“General, am I perhaps on your mind?”

That was until she kept bothering him more and more.

Massera looked into her large, ruby-like eyes, then let his gaze shift down to her pale and rosy-tinted cheeks.

The kindness she showed him was just an act to appear like a loving couple. After all, nobles were experts at wearing masks.

He hated that.

“I know what you’re worried about, General. So I’ll become stronger.”

Including her sweet smile, her positive attitude, and the way her eyes sparkled as if she truly liked him.

“Teach me how to fight when we get back.”

Cynthia clenched her little fists, making a brave bunny face.

‘She’s trying so hard to look cute, but it won’t work.’

Massera turned his head, rubbing his ear.

‘This is the only time I’ll join in on her ridiculous roleplay.’

***

‘Only this one time. After the honeymoon, we’ll live like complete strangers…’

At the dessert cafe, Massera, bound by the vow of “absolute obedience during the honeymoon,” accepted the cherry Cynthia offered him and thought to himself—

—that he couldn’t wait for the honeymoon to be over.

“The cherries in Luthemia are firm and sweet-tart, but the ones here are soft and sweet. Maybe it’s the heavy rainfall that makes the fruit a bit bland, but it actually pairs well with the sweet cream.”

Behind Cynthia, who was cheerfully chatting, Massera could feel the glances being thrown their way.

In a country full of people with black hair, Cynthia, whose whole being embodied white, and Massera, who had dazzling platinum blond hair, were unmistakably foreigners.

[“Are you perhaps Brigadier General Vicente? I heard you had arrived.”]

[“Oh my goodness, to think I’d see the war hero here! What an honor!”]

[“Oh my, you’re even more handsome in person.”]

Soon, young ladies dressed in elegant clothes approached and began speaking to Massera in Medeian.

If they had heard of his arrival, they would surely know it was for his honeymoon, and yet they didn’t show the slightest courtesy to Cynthia—treating her like she was invisible instead.

The famous are always faced with temptation.

Some officers took advantage of their popularity to indulge in secret debauchery, and society often turned a blind eye to their affairs out of respect for their wartime service.

But Massera’s stance on marriage was firm.

‘A man who cheats on his wife deserves to be shot.’

He glanced at Cynthia. She was calmly eating her cake with her usual smile.

[“General, I’m hosting a social gathering at my estate tomorrow. Would you spare a little time to attend?”]

Massera stared directly at the woman who had completely ignored Cynthia.

[“That’s an inappropriate invitation for a married man. I will decline.”]

[“Oh my, that wasn’t my intention. Then how about coming with your wife?”]

[“I’ll still decline.”]

Feeling uncomfortable with the attention, Massera wanted to leave—but Cynthia hated leaving food unfinished.

“I’ll get you dessert from another shop, so let’s—”

‘Wait, when did she finish it all?’

Massera looked puzzled when he saw the empty plate.

Cynthia elegantly wiped her mouth and gave a wicked smile.

“None for cheaters.”

‘So no matter how many women flirt with me, the cake is more important?’

Of course, it may have been because she couldn’t understand Medeian, but this wasn’t the kind of atmosphere one should be so carefree in.

Seeing Massera’s face harden, Cynthia exclaimed that she’d buy him something tastier at the next shop, asking why he was getting upset over food.

***

Returning to the palace, Massera had a stern expression on his face the whole time and only spat out curt replies to anything Cynthia said. He was always curt, but this time his tone was even more rigid.

“Aww, I won’t do it next time. I just thought you weren’t going to eat it.”

Cynthia thought he was upset because she ate all the cake by herself.

Massera let out a sigh and stepped into the bathroom.

‘She seems so at ease, it’s almost shameless…’

He sank into the bathtub and swept his wet hair back. Whether it was the heat or the haze of steam, an indecent memory suddenly resurfaced.

It was the memory of Cynthia sitting on his lap on the ferris wheel, arms wrapped around his neck.

The sweet scent of peaches and milk mixed with soap, her shoulders trembling, and her breath brushing against his cheek.

Why did he find it so beautiful?

“General, since you’re married, shouldn’t you be thinking about having children?”

Why did that presumptuous piece of advice suddenly come to mind?

He clenched his fist tightly.

After finishing his slightly long bath, Cynthia approached him, her hair still wet from bathing in a different bathroom.

“The Dowager Duchess and the princesses from the Lucanossa duchy gave us sleepwear as a honeymoon gift. You said my sleepwear last time wasn’t very good, remember?”

“When did I ever say that?”

“You definitely did. Anyway, I brought the gift, so let’s take a look together.”

No thanks. Despite Massera shaking his head in disgust, Cynthia dragged him along, looking slightly excited.

“They urged me to open it on our honeymoon. I think it’s probably matching couple sleepwear, don’t you?”

No matter how bound he was by the vow of absolute obedience during the honeymoon, Massera had no intention of wearing matching couple sleepwear. He prayed that the gift wasn't that.

Meanwhile, Cynthia opened the box with an expectant expression and took out the sleepwear.

“Ta-da.”

For the first time since meeting Massera, she fell silent.

Massera’s calm eyes scanned the sleepwear dangling from her fingers up and down.

“...Why would anyone give something like that?”

Wasn’t that just a scrap of fabric?

Cynthia quickly stuffed the sleepwear back inside, closing the box with a flustered look on her face.

“Uh… there’s another one too, actually.”

She carefully opened the next box, only to immediately slam it shut again. Whatever was inside was clearly not suitable for general audiences.

“Unfortunately, it seems we can’t wear the matching couple sleepwear. You should just wear your uniform—I quite like that look.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could stay silent—at least while I’m trying to sleep.”

Massera gave up on the conversation and headed to his designated sleeping spot, the sofa.

Cynthia watched his lonely back as she tidied away the boxes containing the unexpectedly indecent and embarrassing clothes.

‘He’s surprisingly innocent. That’s cute. Teasing him is kind of fun.’