The Tragic Male Lead Chose the Wrong Partner

* * *

「By the time you read this, I’ll probably already be gone from this world!」
“Damn it.”
Masera, with a hunting rifle slung over his back, ran through the snowy forest, breathing hard.

It was the middle of a snowstorm at night—there was no way someone like her, a civilian, could survive. Hungry beasts likely descended from the nearby mountains as well.
「Don’t be too sad or regretful. I can say I’ve had a very happy life. A home to keep me warm, the warmth of people, delicious meals… it’s been a wonderful life
Above all, this is a peaceful world, after the war.

Thank you all so much. Especially you, Brigadier—always gruff, but I think you actually have a warm heart…」
That’s where her unfinished will ended.
Why had she left behind an incomplete will and disappeared?

Among war victims and those struggling with depression, it wasn’t uncommon for the end to be self-chosen.
He was sick of that reality.
“I…”

Masera exhaled heavily as he climbed a steep hill.
At one point, he might have thought about making her miserable—but this wasn’t what he wanted.
“I may have hated her… but I never wanted her to die.”

He rubbed his face, catching his breath.
‘If only I had told her—told her I wasn’t angry, that I believed her.’
He knew better than anyone how a single careless word could pull the trigger.

“Colonel Gize, the war is over… what do I do now?”
“Do whatever you want.”
He hadn’t realized it was the soldier’s final question—had answered too lightly.
“Then, I think I’ll go on a long journey.”

He’d never noticed the ever-smiling subordinate was suffering.
That guilt had stayed with him ever since.
He didn’t want any more regrets.

Masera scanned the snowy forest.
“There…”
He spotted smoke rising between the densely packed fir trees.

Recalling the hunter’s cabin located deeper in, he trudged through the knee-deep snow.
Night had fully fallen by the time he arrived in front of the cabin, weathering the harsh blizzard.
Clunk.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door and let out a mixed sigh of exhaustion and disbelief.
“Huh? How did you know I was here?”
Cynthia asked nonchalantly.

She was bundled up in thick winter gear, earmuffs on, thoroughly protected against the cold.
On top of that, she was grilling skewers over the fire in the center of the cabin.
Far from someone preparing for death—she looked more like a seasoned survival expert, completely adapted to the wild winter.

“…Why.”
Snow piled on Masera’s shoulders fell away with a soft thump.
“Why are you here?”

Completely unaware of the panic he had felt on the way, Cynthia smiled brightly.
“A kitten being chased by an eagle ran this way… After a thrilling chase, we ended up here. We almost froze to death. Anyway, I planned to head back in the morning.”
A yellow cheese-colored kitten peeked out from her coat.

“Ah.”
He didn’t even have the energy to scold her for this unexpected winter excursion. Not that she was easy to get angry at in the first place.
With a vacant expression, Masera said,

“Cover your ears until I return.”
After stepping outside, he closed the door and fired a flare into the sky to signal he’d found her.
Re-entering the cabin, he dropped heavily in front of the fire.

Cynthia removed her hands from her ears and gave him a bright smile.
“…Well done.”
Masera gave her rare praise.

He had no intention of bringing up the will. He had already instructed the maid to leave it untouched.
Seeing how tired he looked, Cynthia asked,
“Did you… come looking for me?”

“The weather was nice for a walk.”
“Liar.”
She handed him a nicely roasted skewer.

“I’m a camping pro. I’m good at outdoor survival. Hunter or ranger cabins like this usually have firewood, winter clothes, and preserved food. They’re basically emergency shelters in case of sudden blizzards.”
“You’re well informed.”
He watched as she cut the meat into small pieces for the kitten and asked,

“Did you name the cat?”
“Of course. All five of them.”
“What’s that troublemaker called?”

Cynthia lifted the cheese kitten proudly.
“Marius Seraudis Laverus Cheese the Second.”
The name sounded as grand as a founding monarch’s.

He didn’t realize it was a shortened pun: “Masera Cheese II.”
Masera looked at the door shaking in the wind. Just as she said, they wouldn’t be able to return until morning.
“Anyway… aren’t you cold?”

Cynthia brought over a floral scarf and gently wrapped it around his neck. He didn’t resist. The cozy fabric carried her scent.
He looked straight into her face as she focused on tying the knot.
“I…”

“Hmm?”
Masera sighed and brushed snow from his bangs.
“I’m not angry. I know it’s not true.”

Cynthia gently tapped the tied scarf and smiled.
“I know.”
Blowing on her gloved hands, she added,

“It’s because you believe in me, right?”
Without thinking, Masera removed her gloves and grasped her bare hands.
Startled, Cynthia tried to pull away, wide-eyed.

“Wow! Your hands are really warm!”
“You’ll get frostbite otherwise.”
“Can I sit next to you? You’re super warm.”

“No, you—… do whatever you want.”
Cynthia curled up beside him. Sitting this close, she looked very small.
Masera quietly looked down at her peaceful face.

‘Why’d she write that will? Is being with me really that miserable?’
The thought ached so much it gave him a headache, but he chose not to ask. He didn’t know how she’d take his words.
‘I can’t figure her out.’

She was too good at hiding behind a mask.
Before he realized it, her head began bobbing up and down—dozing off, whether from fatigue or the cozy warmth.
He gently leaned her head against his shoulder.

A sudden urge came over him to wrap his arms around her small, fragile shoulders—and he tightly shut his eyes.
Then silently recited a military march in his head.
* * *

The next morning, the snow had thankfully stopped. Soldiers arrived with sleds to retrieve the two of them.
Cynthia, touched by the fact that Masera had come looking for her, said to the man who looked like he hadn’t slept at all:
“Brigadier, tennis. If I win, you have to grant me another wish.”

Even if it turned out I wasn’t some greenhouse flower, but a weed fated to be plucked someday… would he still be on my side?
“Of course.”
He answered indifferently—but in a gentle voice.

At last, the short yet intense commotion was over.
* * *
Since that day, Masera’s attitude toward Cynthia had subtly changed.

As Cynthia immersed herself in preparations for her first hosted social gathering, he repeatedly appeared in her line of sight, either speaking to her or hovering nearby like he was watching over her.
Circling like a scout, he approached as she made tea party invitations with Maery and Ginny and said,
“Unless something unusual comes up, we should always dine together.”

“Alright.”
Cynthia responded cheerfully and resumed working on the invitations.
Still watching her, Masera added,

“And let’s have tea together at least once a day.”
Did he eat something weird? Why was he acting like this?
Cynthia glanced at him with a puzzled look.

Sensing something odd, Maery and Ginny hesitated, then tactfully stepped away.
“Some good beans came in recently.”
“Ooh, sounds nice.”

“Let’s go now.”
He led Cynthia to the sunniest spot in the outdoor garden.
Clearing his throat, he explained his reasoning.

“I thought it’d be nice to drink warm coffee in the sunlight.”
But the coffee cooled in ten seconds and turned into iced americano—and Cynthia was sensitive to sunlight.
‘Did he prepare this to lift my mood?’

She appreciated the rare return of her “iced coffee even in winter” aesthetic.
While sipping coffee, he cautiously asked,
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me? About your feelings lately… or anything that needs improvement…”

He wanted to hear about her inner gloom, unspoken thoughts, or lingering bitterness, but—
“So much to say. Like the time I ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) tried to get a rifle to fight a wild boar that was tearing up the vegetable patch and ended up uncovering a gun smuggling ring involving the village chief—did I tell you that?”
Cynthia had far too many stories to tell.

“Then when I tried to follow up on a missing delivery, I accidentally got ahold of a briefcase belonging to one of the gang members… and inside was a plan to eliminate their rival boss!”
Cynthia animatedly continued her tale—until Masera reached out and took both of her hands in his.
“What are you doing? It’s not even a scary story.”

“Ah, this is…”
“Eat together regularly, don’t leave her alone, take walks or tea breaks for sunlight exposure, have frequent conversations, and hold her hands often.”
He couldn’t say he was just following a psychiatrist’s advice. He didn’t even know how to explain it.

“Your hands might be cold.”
“…?”
Cynthia paused, then interlocked her fingers with his.

“This way they’ll stay warm for sure.”
He looked down at her delicate fingers wriggling slightly. Sharing a bit of warmth on a cold day… wasn’t so bad after all.