The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *
Helene now stood before Count Queensguard, seeking another path.

She believed that as long as she hadn’t lost the value he placed on bloodlines, she still had something to bargain with.
But contrary to her hopes, what she received from him were words of chilling clarity.
“There’s a perfectly fine replacement for you. So why should I bother?”

Count Queensguard was a man who cared for nothing beyond his own profit. The only reason he’d ever shown her patience was because she was his daughter.
Helene straightened her trembling posture, raising her chin high. The Count swept his eyes over his daughter with a dull gaze.
“The most I can do for you is arrange a remarriage abroad, or find a well-equipped convent.”

‘So you wouldn’t care if someone with nothing to lose exposed Cynthia’s secret?’
Helene bit down the words rising to her lips.
To such a cold man, it wouldn’t even count as a threat—and she might not leave this estate safely if she tried it.
“Father, why not me? You gave Carlos the position of family head. You offered the Duke royal authority. You said Edford would enter the oil business. Why is it that I was only ever used for marital bargaining?”

The fact that her position was no different from Cynthia’s—that truth burned her. But the Count’s expression remained cold and indifferent.
“Because you’re clever, and yet utterly incompetent.”
Clever and incompetent—could those even coexist? Helene felt a crushing weight in her chest.

“I gave you more than anyone else. But you never knew how to use it. And now you’ve become the idiot who lost to a maid.”
The Count calmly explained why she had become useless.
“Whether the royal bloodline is real or fake no longer matters. Even with the most advantageous conditions, you failed to earn the world’s recognition.”

She felt as though every last line of defense inside her had crumbled. The taste of blood filled her mouth where she’d bitten down.
“It was the Princess’s father who destroyed the royal family. Sir Queensguard was obsessed with Princess Margarita. Sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? Reality’s a tragedy.”
Helene recalled Capitano’s words and let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“I’m my father’s daughter. I must’ve inherited this from him, too.”
She instinctively understood. The method of breaking and taking—she had inherited that from him.
“No.”

Count Queensguard shook his head.
“You take after your mother.”
Mother?

Helene, who had been about to leave, paused mid-step.
To her father, Princess Margarita had always been a sacred, untouchable figure.
Anyone who dared to speak ill of her in his presence rarely came away unharmed.

But… had he ever made such a displeased face when speaking of her mother before?
‘Well, maybe not. He never met another woman after her death and wrapped it all up in some fairytale love story… but that’s probably fake too. That man’s talent is making lies look real.’
She shook off the unease that brushed past her like static and exited the study.
Paradoxically, she felt an odd sense of freedom.

Pride as a princess? Grace and dignity? None of it mattered anymore.
‘It’s not over yet. I have a card in hand that can bring everything down.’
Perhaps her true enemy had always been her father.

* * *
I was riding the train to Nox with Masera.
We were on our way to meet Count Hert, the former local authority of Dias.

As time passed, the scenery outside the window grew more monotonous, until it stretched into a snowfield as blank and endless as a canvas.
“Lady Cynthia, are you feeling all right?”
Dalia, who had come along with me, was incredibly concerned. She thought I was living a perfect life—passionate newlywed nights with Masera, fierce tennis training during the day.

Masera, who had had his eyes glued to the newspaper, glanced sideways at me.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
He tried to seem indifferent, but there was concern in his gaze.

Lately, he’d returned to acting like a haughty cat, but he was clearly lingering nearby, quietly watching me and hoping I’d talk to him first.
I smiled as if I didn’t know, though I knew it all.
“No? I’m healthy.”

He nodded, rustling the newspaper as he turned the page.
“You’ve been practicing tennis too hard lately.”
“There’s someone I want to beat.”
I heard the faintest scoff from behind the paper, as if he were smirking.

“You aiming for that wish voucher? Won’t be easy.”
His tone implied he had zero intention of losing.
Can’t he throw the match just once?

I glared at him in mock resentment and took a bite of the sandwich lovingly packed by the kitchen staff.
After transferring to a car sent by Count Hert, we soon arrived in Nox.
I’d expected a barren wasteland—but to my surprise, it had already taken the form of a proper town.

No, it was more like a budding city. The architecture was breathtaking.
“Wow… they built all this already?”
I stuck my head out the car window to get a better look.

“We could probably build a royal capital in a year.”
Masera pressed my fur hat down firmly as it started to lift in the wind.
Their technical skills were no joke. Even the capital buildings had survived the recent earthquake thanks to these people.

As we drew closer to the village—
[♥ Welcome to the Lucky Princess ♥ and the War Hero!]
I clapped a hand over my mouth when I saw the banner hanging at the entrance.

“Wh-Who put that up…?”
Who the hell organized this mortifying stunt?
I glanced at Masera. He quickly averted his gaze.

The residents who had successfully settled in Nox began gathering to welcome us.
“Princess, thanks to you, we were able to avoid the avalanche and survive.”
“After being forced out of Dias, we didn’t know where to go. Thank you so much.”

They kept handing us food through the open car windows. My lap was soon piled high with steamed corn, sweet potatoes, and more.
“Wow. Thanks a lot, I’ll eat well.”
One grandmother shoved an egg bun into my mouth, and I waved at the villagers with my cheeks bulging.

* * *
When we arrived at Count Hert’s estate, the Count and his wife greeted us. At first glance, they seemed like a kind, middle-aged couple.
“The mansion isn’t fully built yet, so it’s a bit modest, but we’ve done our best to prepare everything for your comfort.”

Unlike the gaudy mansions of typical nobles, the Hert estate was clean and practical.
The aesthetics of restraint. As expected of a prestigious architectural family—they were ahead of their time.
We shared dinner with the Count and Countess, expressing our thanks and discussing matters related to Nox.

The accelerated profits from Nox’s oil were all thanks to the residents and Count Hert.
Once the business discussion ended, Count Hert cautiously brought up another topic.
“For a time, I believed Princess Helene to be the rightful heir to the royal family.”

His eyes dimmed with weariness and disappointment.
The Countess, with a sorrowful expression, placed a hand over his and spoke in his stead.
“We Dias folk had our own pride. Long ago, our ancestors helped the Frost Queen build the wall that held back enemy nations. Dias became a royal demesne in recognition of that victory—no longer under the rule of lords. That triumph lived on as our eternal glory.”

‘So they didn’t just ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) lose their homeland… Helene erased their pride and history too.’
I chose my words carefully and smiled.
“I believe people are more valuable than gold. Someday, I’ll restore your glory.”

The Count and Countess looked at me in shock. A silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken emotion.
“…Thank you.”
After dinner, Count Hert visited the guest room where we were staying.

“There’s something I wish to give you, Princess. I had originally intended it for the Duchess…”
In his hands was a beautifully aged music box, worn with time.
“It was once a gift from my predecessor to the young crown princess. Its last owner was Princess Margarita.”

He gently stroked the surface of the box.
“Before the revolution, Princess Margarita entrusted it to me. It was broken back then.”