Chapter 42

While feeding a treat to the Queen’s cat, Massera glanced up at the darkening sky and realized how much time had passed.

“Meow.”

The Queen’s cat was more like a dog with how well-behaved it was.

Not long ago, Cynthia had told him about a “dog-like cat”—a rare breed said to appear only to those with three generations of accumulated virtue—and it seemed this cat was one of those.

“When is she coming? I was going to show her the dog-cat.”

He clamped a hand over his mouth and glanced around, startled that those words had slipped out without him realizing.

‘Did I really just think that? Me, of all people?’

Afterwards, he returned to their room, but even after nightfall, Cynthia still hadn’t come back.

‘Did she get locked up for making a careless remark?’

He once heard a story about how the Queen locked up her boastful son-in-law in the basement for two days after he beat her at poker.

He couldn’t tell if it had been a royal prank or something more serious, but an incident like that happening on their honeymoon would be problematic.

Just as he was starting to get anxious and about to go look for her, the door clicked open.

“You were in the room?”

Cynthia made a casual comment as she stepped in and began gathering her sleepwear and a board game.

When had she even brought a board game? Massera watched in confusion before asking—

“What’s with the sudden board game?”

“It’s a world domination strategy game.”

“You want to play it now?”

Cynthia shook her head.

“I heard Her Majesty likes board games, so I brought it just in case. And I’m sleeping somewhere else tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

As if keeping her distance after that kiss earlier wasn’t enough, now she wanted to sleep elsewhere?

A sudden flare of heat rose in his chest. Massera grabbed her arm as she was about to leave and turned her around.

“Now that we’ve touched, are you avoiding me out of disgust? So everything you did until now was fake, I see.”

“Huh? Fake?”

Cynthia pressed her lips together tightly.

It was the first time Massera realized that even her usually gentle and droopy eyes could turn sharp.

“Who was the one lashing out like a wildcat even when I was being nice…”

‘Well, what can I do if that’s just how he is?’ She had simply accepted it and chose to be understanding of him.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable being with you! Her Majesty asked me to sleep in her room tonight, okay?”

In fact, it was true that she also felt strangely nervous about sharing a room with him after the kiss.

Conveniently though, the Queen had greatly enjoyed chatting with Cynthia, saying that Cynthia reminded her of her daughter whom she rarely saw due to living abroad. She then suggested that they spend the night together in her room if Cynthia was comfortable with it.

“...Why would Her Majesty suggest something like that?”

From Massera’s perspective, it was completely absurd. Just how sociable was she?

“We talked for about five hours, and agreed to continue the deeper parts of the conversation over late-night snacks in Her Majesty’s room. Don’t you know that soulmate feeling where you just need to retell stories in depth?”

‘Just how much of a chatterbox is she?’

Cynthia approached Massera, who was flabbergasted, and glanced up at him with a playful expression.

“Sheesh, you always say no, but act like you have separation anxiety.”

“When did I ever…”

“And it wasn’t fake. I did everything I did because I wanted you to like me, General.”

Because that was her key to survival.

Not even knowing what powerful message she had just conveyed to him, Cynthia stormed out of the room.

“She wants me to like her?”

Massera, left alone, muttered to himself in a daze.

Meanwhile, on her way to the Queen’s room, Cynthia suddenly stopped and glanced back. Then she tilted her head.

A regretful male lead being abandoned by his wife on their honeymoon? Wasn’t it usually the other way around?

“Could I be the regretful female lead?”

With that odd thought, Cynthia walked down the hallway again with a brisk gait.

***

The next morning, Cynthia returned with her face practically glowing.

Despite ditching her husband, she looked like she had eaten well and had a great time.

“I used a face mask before bed, and it was amazing… Royal skincare is on another level. The maids I chatted with were super fun, too.”

On top of that, Cynthia had reverted to her usual chatterbox self in just one day.

In contrast, Massera, who hadn’t slept well, looked a bit haggard.

“Brigadier General Massera del Vicente, Her Majesty would like to see you.”

At the maid’s words, Massera straightened his clothes and thought to himself—

‘She’s not going to order me to stay longer or to leave the princess behind, is she?’

The Queen was known for her fondness for collecting people.

She kept famous circus troupes, theater companies, and opera singers under the royal family’s patronage so she could summon them whenever she wanted.

Surely she didn’t want to make Cynthia her personal court jester, right?

In the outdoor tearoom where the Queen had summoned Massera, only a maid and knight were present. It seemed a conversation requiring privacy was about to take place.

Like Cynthia, the Queen’s face was glowing as she spoke first.

“This is the first time we’ve spoken alone since the war ended. I’ve been hoping to see you again and I’m pleased you’ve come with good news.”

The Queen recalled the fifteen-year-old boy soldier who had once stood before her. Even now, as a grown man, he still had those same hollow yet beautiful eyes.

He had served as a sniper in the Federal Army then, carrying out numerous successful missions.

The Queen had cherished and trusted him, granting him an honorary knighthood and officially recognizing him as a war hero.

“Thank you.”

For a man who had risen from the bottom, Massera didn’t boast. If anything, he seemed indifferent to it all.

With the pleasantries over, the Queen asked—

“Is your answer still the same as before regarding my offer to join Medeia? The Luthemia Republic isn’t even your homeland, is it?”

“The country I was born in has already vanished into history. Luthemia is my biological father’s homeland, so it’s as good as my own.”

At Massera’s response, the Queen smiled gracefully.

“Why did you marry a fallen princess? The Variessa royal family, in a way, ruined your life.”

Massera calmly met her jade-colored eyes, as if trying to figure out her true intentions.

“There are nobles plotting to restore the monarchy. I married her to stop them.”

“Is that all?”

The Queen’s voice grew colder.

Her words carried an unspoken accusation—was he ruining someone else’s life out of revenge?

He knew full well that lying wouldn’t work in front of her.

“I bear no malice. But, I hold no affection either.”

Perhaps pleased by his honest answer, she smiled once more.

“How much do you know about your wife?”

Massera, who had been gazing down at the floral teacup in front of him, raised his head.

“I know most of the important things.”

The Queen set down her teaspoon with a graceful smile.

“You’ve found a jewel you must never let go of. People who are both clever and kind are rare.”

Since he couldn’t deny it outright, he answered with silence.

At that, the Queen lowered her gaze and lifted her teacup.

“There’s a saying that ‘A soldier’s spouse is like an internal strategist.’ It’s not just a figure of speech, so I hope you keep that in mind.”

“Of course. If there’s one thing I’m clear on, it’s my view on marriage.”

The Queen, having keenly observed his expression, looked subtly relieved.

“The remnants of the past are but hollow illusions. I hope you’ll treasure your bond in the present and live well as husband and wife. I am quite fond of people, after all.”

Picking up a sugar cube and dropping it into her tea, the Queen added—

“So if you get along with the princess, I’ll give you a gift.”

“I am not a child.”

“With your sweet tooth and how you light up at the sight of chocolate, you still look like a fifteen-year-old child to me.”

Had Massera shown any kind of negative attitude toward Cynthia, she had planned to tell him to leave her behind in Medeia. She was a woman too precious to be ruined over something that was not her fault.

However, when he spoke of Cynthia, none of the hatred he once harbored could be seen.

Finding that faint sign of positivity, she smiled happily.

‘If he planned to keep her at his side forever just to take out his anger, then General Vicente may have chosen the wrong person.’