Chapter 52

When I fainted from the shock of the explosion and just regained consciousness, I had to eat another tasteless rice porridge.

“I was… really worried. It's a relief the falling sign narrowly missed you…”

Dahlia looked gloomily at the bandages wrapped around my hand.

I could feel the sincerity in her concern for me, and it warmed my heart.

“Yeah, I was lucky. Sorry for making you worry.”

Then I thought of Massera, who had shielded both Eugene and me.

I still have no idea where he suddenly came from...

Anyway, since the day he deeply hurt my feelings, I’d been sulking—because I was only human too. Even when I knew the longer the cold war lasted, the worse it would get.

‘Still, if he threw himself in to save us, then he must not have said all that out of hatred. He’s probably sensitive because he carries his own wounds. So what can you expect from a prickly cheese cat who’s bad at expressing himself…’

I spoke with Dahlia, who was helping me bathe, and asked a few questions.

I asked her what kind of treatment people with war trauma usually received, but—just like Massera—her expression darkened drastically.

“With the family’s consent, they’re admitted to psychiatric wards, restrained, and given tranquilizers.”

“...Why?”

I knew the stigma was bad, but hearing it laid out like that still shocked me. I couldn’t help but ask if it was really that severe.

“It’s to prevent self-harm or suicide. Especially for war veterans, since their pensions are paid out until…”

Dahlia couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

To think they’d lock someone in a psych ward for life just to keep receiving the pension—I was at a loss for words from the shock.

Only then did I start to understand why Massera had reacted so sensitively.

From his point of view, I must’ve looked the same—just a carefree princess who knew nothing about war.

‘I was too hasty. I thought there would at least be prescriptions or psychotherapy.’

Either way, I had to talk it out and reconcile with Massera. We were supposed to be working together.

I asked Dahlia, who was changing my bandages and helping me dress.

“Dahlia, is the General at the residence?”

“He went out earlier, but he should be back soon.”

I put on a thick quilted coat to go greet him, but spotted an officer in a federal army uniform instead.

It was Brigadier General Steve, the direct superior of Major Rodriguez.

He wasn’t on good terms with Massera, so I didn’t really want to acknowledge him.

“Oh, if it isn’t the princess.”

But he greeted me first.

I put on my socially appropriate smile and looked at Brigadier General Steve.

“Yes, hello.”

Noticing the bandages on my hand, he gave me a pitying look.

“I heard you were injured in the recent factory explosion. Are you all right?”

“As you can see, I’m fine.”

“So it seems.”

Then why did you ask? I grumbled inwardly and tried to end the conversation and leave.

But the persistent Brigadier General Steve kept talking.

“I heard that things haven’t been going well between you and General Vicente.”

Who would have spread such rumors? With so many people at the residence though, I guess word must’ve gotten out.

“We had a bit of a lovers’ quarrel. That’s just how newlyweds are, you know.”

I only told half the truth.

Looking at my smiling face, he got to the main point.

“Is it because many investors have pulled out and the development project is being delayed? It seems he blames you for their withdrawal. To blame his own wife for that—how cruel of him.”

He jumped to conclusions and freely spun his own tale of the discord.

‘If a major investor pulls out, of course others will follow suit! It’s all your fault!’

That man must’ve planned to invest a large sum from the start with this intention.

He cheerfully added—

“Though in truth, it’s because of the rumors that the land’s a barren wasteland without a single resource.”

That was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who spread that rumor, you darn blabbermouth.

But if I get serious first, I lose. With a soft, smiling gaze, I spoke up—

“Investing in minerals or resources is always a gamble, so unless you’ve got the heart of a beast, it’s not easy. If you lack the means, stable investments are the wiser choice.”

I put to good use the roundabout but sharp rhetoric I’d learned in Medeia.

I had basically treated him as a coward with no money.

Brigadier General Steve didn’t back down either and gave a relaxed smile with his eyes.

“If things stop like this, the losses will only grow over time. You have the Duchess as your sister, don’t you? You can’t just let your husband struggle alone, so why not ask the ducal house for investment?”

Was that his way of saying, “It’s your fault anyway, so why are you doing nothing?” He clearly knows how to speak in that backhanded way nobles do.

‘There were rumors he’d been in frequent contact with the Duke lately.’

It definitely seemed like the Duke and Brigadier General Steve had joined hands.

Could it be that the Duke used Brigadier General Steve to stir up trouble, hoping Massera would come to him for help?

While I was lost in thought, I narrowed my eyes at someone in the distance—then opened them wide in shock.

Massera stood there—flowers in one hand, a cake in the other—looking, unbelievably, like some hopeless romantic.

‘Who did he buy that for?’

Wearing his usual stern expression, Massera stared directly at Brigadier General Steve and me as he approached us. Then he abruptly held out a bouquet of baby's breath tied with a ribbon.

He bought this for me? Is the sky falling or something?

Startled, I opened my eyes wide and took the flowers.

Even Brigadier General Steve, who seemed to hope our relationship was in ruins, looked a bit surprised.

“Ha, my brave comrade’s turned into a romantic.”

Despite Brigadier General Steve’s ridicule, Massera’s expression didn’t change—like steel tempered tens of thousands of times by mockery just like this.

“It’s been ages since the war ended.”

He blurted out those words without much thought and then held out his other hand to me.

“I remembered my wife liked cherries, so I picked up a cherry cake on the way.”

“Wow, my husband’s the best—remembering even the little things!”

I made a conscious effort to play the part of the sweet newlywed wife in front of Brigadier General Steve—though Massera’s inability to manage his expression was a bit of a variable.

Interlocking my fingers with Massera’s, I held our hands up proudly and said—

“Now that the war’s over, I hope you find someone to love soon too, General Steve!”

Seeing the crack in Brigadier General Steve’s smile, I knew I had won.

Leaving the loser behind, we headed to the glass greenhouse.

As soon as we arrived, Massera pulled his hand away and asked in a stiff tone—

“Do you always smile that easily at anyone?”

“Yes. Smiles bring fortune, and they cost nothing. What’s the problem?”

So I responded just as stiffly.

Didn’t he bring gifts to make up with me? Why is he picking a fight again?

Setting down the cake box, Massera brushed back his bangs, and sighed heavily as he turned away.

“…Do as you wish then. It is your decision, after all.”

“So, what did you buy this for? Is it a get-well gift?”

When I pressed him about the flowers, he averted his gaze, his eyes darting around before sinking into a chair and tugging at his tie.

“No, just. It’s nothing special.”

“Nothing special, as in—you give flowers to just anyone? Unlike a smile, they cost money, you know?”

At my petty remark, he pressed his hand to his eyes and shook his head.

“It was my first time ever entering a flower shop.”

The thought of him awkwardly picking out flowers somehow made me smile.

Sitting across from him, I propped up my chin and grinned brightly.

After hesitating for a while, he finally opened his mouth.

“I…”

“Hm?”

Massera squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, continuing in a formal tone.

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong for what?”

“That day, I misunderstood your concern for Eugene and spoke out of line. Thank you for caring about and thinking of him.”

So he was going to apologize—all that push and pull was kind of cute.

“Honestly, I wasn’t any better. I didn’t understand what treatment really meant for people with war trauma and learned that some are kept in psych wards their whole lives.”

I then held out my hand to him.

“Just like I have my touchy subjects, I hit one of yours. I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful with my words. So let’s make peace and get along now.”

He stared at my hand like a wary cat, reluctantly took it for a moment, and then quickly pulled away.

“I only apologized because it was the right thing to do. But acting like a loving couple with you is—”

“Wow, this cherry cake looks delicious!”

I didn’t even hear his tsundere grumble because I was too busy opening the cake box.

***

The Ducal Estate of House Lucanossa.

Helene had invited high-society ladies to a dinner party, and among them were figures from the press and financial world.

“Your Grace, is it true that the royal inheritance is buried in the youngest princess’s land?”

When someone interested in the barren land’s development project asked, Helene smiled.

After all, she’d organized this dinner specifically to spread public opinion in her favor.

“I’ll have to ask my sister for the details, but… from what the surveyors are saying, it does sound a bit concerning.”

‘Sorry to Father, who’s hoping that land is worth something, but I belong to the Duke’s family now.’

The Duke wanted to see Massera and Cynthia come crawling to him for help.

And Helene wanted the same outcome, of course.

There was a need to put the war orphan and that maid pretending to be a princess in their place—and to reestablish a clear hierarchy.

Helene wiped her mouth with a napkin as she thought to herself.

‘The article will probably go out tomorrow, claiming the buried inheritance is just a foolish fantasy.’

Helene was convinced that “Diez,” the royal land she had inherited, was the legitimate claim.

And it was because of a phrase she had stumbled upon in her mother’s belongings when she was young.

[Only the bloodline of the Frost Queen may uncover the legacy of the Variessa dynasty. The golden glory of day shall return to the rightful heir.]

“Diez” meant “day,” and she believed the Frost Queen’s bloodline belonged not to Cynthia, but to herself.