The Male Lead of a Depressing Novel Chose the Wrong Partner
Chapter 1
“They say that when a person dies, the completed romance fantasy novel they were reading comes to greet them.”
Usually, I only knew that people would read a novel, think, “This character is so pitiful! If it were me...!” and then get hit by an isekai truck, only to possess that very character.
However, I had been living in a conflict zone. After the final bombardment of a fighter jet, I opened my eyes to find I had become a maid named “Cynthia” in the Queensguard Count’s household.
Cynthia, who had worked here since she was young, had a life that was nothing short of miserable.
At this point, one might expect her to turn dark, but Cynthia was a person with a naturally kind soul.
“Just like me, being too kind for my own good...”
Without even knowing the original story, I, who had been cast in such a wretched role, rested one hand on my cheek in a forlorn manner.
The reason I was certain this was inside a novel was that it felt similar to the novels I had briefly read.
The genres I read were mostly romantic comedies, redemption stories, and healing tales. Most were “mutual salvation” stories where a sunny heroine heals a wounded male lead.
So, this must be that kind of novel as well.
“Phew, I’m glad it’s not a depressing novel, at least.”
As I sat in my room sighing in relief, a senior maid kicked the door open and stormed in.
“Hey, Esat mongrel.”
The servants of the Count’s household called me an “Esat mongrel.”
The Esat people were a minority group that had been oppressed and nearly wiped out; because I had white hair like them, everyone assumed I was of mixed Esat blood.
“I am not a mongrel, I am a mutation.”
I kindly corrected her.
My white hair, pale, translucent skin, and light red eyes were all due to “albinism.”
At my natural response, her eyebrows twitched, and she raised her voice harshly.
“Whatever, you’re still an unlucky white rat! Master Carlos is looking for you, so get going.”
“Yes.”
Unlucky bosses exist everywhere, regardless of the genre.
I stood up and headed straight to Carlos’s room.
---
Carlos Queensguard.
The eldest son of the family and the heir to the Count’s estate.
A handsome man with grayish-gold hair and blue eyes, he was a man who loved a life of debauchery.
He was definitely not the male lead.
“Cynthia, the time has come to repay your debt. You promised to give your life to me, didn't you?”
He was just a bastard, not even the type who could be redeemed, who held Cynthia’s weakness over her head to exploit her.
According to the remaining memories of Cynthia, she had accidentally committed murder at the age of seventeen.
There was a gambling drunkard who called himself her father and exploited her. He would occasionally resort to violence against her, but while resisting, he was pushed by Cynthia’s hand, hit his head, and crossed the River Styx.
Carlos, who happened to find out about this, covered up the murder, and Cynthia, moved by this, didn't just dedicate her life to him—she even gave him her heart.
A more malicious exploitative relationship had been formed.
“How long do I have to keep paying this debt without a promise of an end...”
I muttered in dissatisfaction.
For the record, a debt consisting of weakness and love can never be repaid until you die.
Until either the creditor or the debtor dies.
“This is the last time, Cynthia.”
The love-debt collector, who was no different from her wicked father, continued slowly.
“Two marriage proposals have arrived for our family.”
“Are they, by any chance, proposals for you and Lady Helene?”
I excluded the second son, Edford.
He hadn't inherited the Count’s beauty, nor did he have the ability, so he wasn't in a position to receive marriage proposals.
“No. Both were sent by the men's side. We only have one daughter in our family, so normally we would have to choose one, but...”
He smiled, lightly gripping my finger.
“Both offered incredible conditions. We are the last remaining royal bloodline, after all.”
The late Countess was a princess of the Variesa royal family, which had fallen some twenty years ago.
A revolution had occurred and all the royals were killed, but she had eloped with the Count before that, leaving behind descendants of royal blood.
Carlos delivered the conclusion.
“You are going to become the young lady of the Queensguard Count’s family and marry the other one.”
To urge me to marry another man? Is that something to say to a woman who loved and devoted herself to him?
“Is he handsome? Look at my face.”
If he’s handsome, he must be the male lead.
Based on my experience of burning the midnight oil reading countless romance fantasies, my guess that the male lead would be a “Northern Grand Duke” had been wrong—the Northern Grand Duke was 95 years old—but the development was similar to I Became the Real Bride After Being a Fake One, which I had started reading but hadn't finished.
It was a cute and adorable rom-com where the male lead finds out the heroine’s identity as a fake bride, but pretends not to know because he’s anxious she might run away if she finds out she’s been caught in a lie.
Carlos, watching me lost in thought, frowned slightly.
“You’ve been acting strange lately. Anyway, once you take over his assets later, you can be with me forever. You just have to endure it for a little while.”
Do I really have to?
“Ah, yes!”
I gave a vague, affirmative answer.
I had to find the male lead for the story to progress, so I had no choice but to bet on the possibility.
In any case, I only had one option.
Since I’d heard such an enormous proposal, refusal meant death, so I had to stay alive and find a way out.
Above all, I was exceptionally lucky.
I had met a bad end in my previous life, but since I was starting over in a story where I would eventually achieve happiness, wasn't that a stroke of luck?
I decided to trust my luck.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the kind of luck optimized for gambling or lotteries.
---
The person who first devised the “bloodline fraud marriage” was Carlos’s father, Count Queensguard.
He said to Cynthia, who stood before him:
“This is a golden opportunity to enjoy wealth and glory through social advancement.”
This place was on the outskirts, far from the capital.
The Queensguard Count’s children did not attend high society for the sake of their protection, and their personal details were not widely known. So, all he had to do was keep the servants who worked with her quiet.
He scanned Cynthia’s unusual appearance from top to bottom before opening his mouth.
“If anyone suspects you, I’ll handle the excuses, so just say you lost your childhood memories in an accident.”
“But I really don't have memories of my childhood?”
Three months into the possession. She only had fragmented memories of the original body’s owner; she didn't know everything.
The Count made a look of being fed up and changed the subject.
“The man who will be your husband is a war hero of the Republic and an immense asset holder. He is also the best groom available.”
To this, Cynthia asked:
“Why are you sending me, and not Lady Helene, to the best groom?”
Helene was his biological daughter and Carlos’s younger sister.
It was a sharp question, but the Cynthia he knew was not a clever woman.
“Helene is scheduled to marry a Duke.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be too much for you to handle the high-level etiquette required for a Duke’s household. It’s not something you can learn in a few days of training.”
He didn't bother mentioning the ominous rumors that Brigadier General Vicente was a cruel, mad slaughterer.
‘She might get scared and run away.’
He couldn't give up the massive benefits gained through the marriage.
As the industrial revolution brought rapid development after the war, the marriage market was in the midst of transactions between “capitalists with only money” and “fallen nobles with only bloodlines.”
Therefore, the value of the disgracefully fallen “Variesa royal bloodline” naturally had to rise.
‘The last remaining royal descendant—isn't this the highest-grade commodity for bloodline trading? Enough to make capitalist officers and ducal houses scramble for her.’
Judging by the incredible conditions they were offering, they were clearly investing in the possibility of the monarchy being restored in the future.
The Count couldn't let those two rabbits escape.
So, Cynthia, a foolish woman who would even pretend to die if Carlos told her to, was perfect.
Besides, like the royals who had been deified and treated as special beings for a long time, didn't Cynthia also possess an external uniqueness?
“But this is a fraudulent marriage, right?”
At Cynthia’s question, the Count rummaged through his coat pocket.
“If you don't get caught, it becomes the truth.”
Soon, he handed Cynthia a red diamond necklace. At a glance, it looked similar to Cynthia’s eyes.
“This is a necklace my wife had. It is a royal heirloom. With this, you won't be suspected.”
It was an important item, but it didn't matter since he would get it back soon anyway.
“You just need to watch your tongue. If you get caught, you’ll be the one to die.”
‘Though I’ll kill you before that happens anyway.’
The Count, hiding his true intentions, curled up the corners of his mouth.
The corners of Cynthia’s mouth, holding the necklace, also relaxed slightly.
‘I bet my life on the fact that the original story is a rom-com filled with emotion, healing, and laughter.’
Cynthia had no idea that this place was inside a depressing novel notorious for its “mutual suicide ending.”
It was not a healing story, but a lethally toxic one.
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