Chapter 56

“Director Cynthia, you've received many letters. Not just from figures in Luthemia’s social circles, but even from the upper class of the Kingdom of Medeia.”

My excellent aide Dahlia—who calls me “Director”—brought over a mountain of letters.

I skimmed through the letters.

Rather than wanting to meet me out of respect for my achievements, most were just scheming to grab a few crumbs of benefit.

“Since you’ve begun engaging in social activities, how about hosting a party at the residence?”

“As expected of my strategist. That’s a great idea.”

“Please make a guest list for the event. I’ll use it as a reference for future networking.”

As I picked up my fountain pen, I asked Dahlia—

“Is the guest list for the military personnel something the General handles?”

“You two can discuss it and coordinate together.”

She leaned in close and whispered with sparkling eyes.

“In the capital’s social circles—unlike the battlefield—it’s usually the military spouses who hold the most power.”

It was said that a soldier’s rank determines their spouse’s social standing, and getting in a superior’s spouse’s good graces could greatly influence one’s chances of promotion.

Still, it was a good thing I was a general’s wife—otherwise, I’d be stuck making kimchi for mercenaries and performing party tricks.

I looked over the letters addressed to me and began weeding out the ones to discard first.

Of course, among them were faces I remembered from Medeia.

While I was sorting the letters, Dahlia asked how I was categorizing them.

“This pile is the ‘emotionally scarred’ group, this one is the ‘conflict-prone’ group, and this one’s for the ‘shady gossipers’…”

Despite my cheerful tone, Dahlia’s expression steadily grew gloomier.

“…It must’ve been really hard dealing with people’s prejudice all this time.”

I smiled as if it were nothing.

“It’s okay. They say people who live with prejudice always have to prove they’re harmless… but just like now, anyone can be subject to judgment. Maybe that’s why I can tell so easily whether someone means well or not.”

It was better than being fooled by a facade and betrayed after mistaking someone for a good person.

Dahlia lowered her gaze and let out a sigh.

“I, too, used to judge you with prejudice in the past. I’m always ashamed of that.”

“It’s fine. No one is truly free from prejudice. They say even a biased view can lean toward sincerity in the end. You recognized that in me and reached out first, Dahlia.”

I used to think Dahlia hated me and watered down my cocoa on purpose. Prejudice breeds more prejudice, but if both sides are decent people, the misunderstandings will eventually clear up.

For some reason, Dahlia’s cheeks turned red, and she gave a small, awkward cough.

“Thank you. And… to help with your social activities, I’ve compiled a list together with Aide Diego.”

“Thank you so much!”

I accepted the paper she had written with great care.

“A lot of outdoor activities, huh…”

Parties, plays, and operas were mostly scheduled for the evening, while the daytime was filled with physical activities like tennis, hunting, horseback riding, and golf.

It’s not really ideal for someone like me, who’s sensitive to sunlight. Isn’t there anything like “lying in a warm bed, snacking and chatting”?

“Dahlia, I’m not really good at any of these.”

Although it was basic etiquette expected of any noble, I couldn’t reveal that I used to be a maid, so I added an excuse.

“I lived in the countryside, so I never really had the chance to try these things.”

“I understand. But most people do learn these things from childhood.”

Dahlia’s expression grew a bit complicated. Hiring a teacher at this point could stir up rumors.

She added—

“You can start learning gradually. As it happens, the soldiers are playing tennis during leisure time today. Why don’t you go take a look?”

At Dahlia’s suggestion, I looked out the brightly lit window.

Leisure time started at 4 PM, so the court would soon be in the building’s shadow.

My arm is mostly healed now. I should ask Massera to teach me.

I imagined a gentle husband teaching tennis, and a clumsy but diligent wife learning from him.

He had been pretty gentle when we built the cat house, after all.

With that decision, I changed into something comfortable and stepped outside.

***

But contrary to my peaceful vision of learning tennis together, Massera was entirely preoccupied with betting on tennis matches against other people.

“Two to one!”

“Wooooah!”

Seeing everyone dressed so lightly made me shiver instinctively. Playing tennis in short sleeves in this cold—were they yetis or something?

Massera, too, was wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt.

I was so used to seeing him in formal uniform that seeing him in different clothes felt surprisingly refreshing.

“Oh… ooooh?”

As I admired him, I stared wide-eyed at the way his forearm muscles and those dangerously attractive veins popped every time he swung his racket.

‘Wait, this isn’t the time for that.’

Snapping out of it, I approached a resting non-commissioned officer and asked if he could teach me tennis.

Ten minutes into my lesson—

“You might want to try a different hobby.”

The officer, having witnessed my endless missed swings, gently suggested I give up.

With a saddened expression, I asked—

“Do I really have no talent for this?”

“Yes. You are naturally unathletic.”

The brutally blunt, T-type officer nodded. It seemed he had no intention of leaving even a sliver of hope.

After the officer left, I practiced alone, clutching the racket. First, I had to actually make contact with the ball.

But no matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t working. I started getting that crushing sense of self-awareness. Maybe I should just give up?

Just then, someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

“That’s not how you do it.”

Massera looked down at me with his usual indifferent expression.

“Hold it like this.”

He took my hand holding the racket. He was so close behind me that I felt a bit self-conscious.

As he took my wrist and guided me through the motion of swinging the racket, his warm breath brushed the nape of my neck.

“How’s your injury? You’re not overdoing it, are you?”

At his whispered concern, I flinched slightly and gave an awkward smile.

“I’m fine.”

‘This feels kind of weird.’

My pulse quickened, and my cheeks grew warm. This wasn’t the kind of feeling one should be having while being taught.

“I’ll give it a try.”

I shook my head and quickly stepped away to put some distance between us.

He lightly tossed me a tennis ball, but my racket still couldn’t even touch it.

After about three attempts, Massera stood still and stared at me.

“Um… I guess I can’t do it? Should I just give up?”

I asked, looking dejected.

Is he going to say, “Yes. You have no talent, so just give up”?

As I watched for his reaction, he surprised me by speaking in an unexpectedly kind voice.

“It’s all right.”

“What?”

“No one’s good from the beginning. Just keep trying until you get it.”

I’d actually been practicing for an hour, so this wasn’t exactly my first try… but I decided not to mention that.

He held up the ball in his hand and offered a tip.

“I’ll toss it slowly, so just keep your eyes on the ball.”

I narrowed my eyes and focused on the ball.

He tossed the ball more slowly and gently this time.

Hit—

“Wow!”

It wasn’t the cleanest hit, but I did manage to graze the ball with the edge of my racket.

“Well done.”

I looked at Massera, who was praising me over such a small thing.

Before I knew it, the sun had shifted, and the orange glow of afternoon light brushed his hair. His usually sharp eyes seemed to have softened.

Then, as if catching himself, his relaxed mouth tensed.

“It’s just because you said something unusual. You always struck me as someone who doesn’t give up.”

He spoke as if making an excuse.

“Is that how I looked to you, General? Like someone who never gives up?”

At my question, Massera turned away without answering.

What, is he running away because he’s scared we’ll end up having a cheesy youth drama conversation?

As he tried to leave, I quickly ran after him and asked—

“More importantly, I think we should go over the invitations. When would be a good time for you?”

“After dinner. I’ll come to the bedroom.”

Massera said curtly and walked off.

I stared blankly at his retreating figure and muttered—

“…The bedroom?”

We’re just having a professional discussion over who to invite, so why does it sound so suggestive?

I rubbed my arms as I felt a little shiver.