I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway

Tristan bit the rim of his glass, recalling the first drink of January.
He had fled from the tiresome royal New Year's event and raised his glass with his friends, shouting,

"This year, I will be free of Doris Redfield!"
It didn’t seem like it would be difficult.
After all, it was a long-neglected engagement. If he could just bring in a suitable noble lady and push it forward with her family, the royal family and the Redfields would likely give up on the engagement before things became any more troublesome.

But from the time the social season began…
Something started to go wrong.
There was something, even with his old friends, that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

As Alex refilled the brandy, he asked,
"What’s with the expression? Do you think breaking off the engagement is going to be difficult?"
"…"

"Maria Meyer finally accepted a dance, huh? I don’t think that woman has the courage to accept the prince, but with her beauty, she could make a scandal and take down your fiancée with it…"
"No, that’s not what I mean."
The sound of the brandy glass clinking as it hit the table made Tristan pause, before he added,

"Why are you asking about this? It's still early in the season. Is my name already being tossed around as a topic in the salon?"
"I can’t say it isn’t. Everyone knows you’re not fond of your fiancée."
"Ha, now you’re selling me out too."

"Back when you were running wild and roaming the streets, how many times did you sell my name to Queen Mother, huh?"
"…"
Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle.

Well, it didn’t matter. After all, the royal family’s glamorous life existed for the enjoyment of the masses. This much was nothing to give up for others to tear apart.
"Maria will come around eventually. I’m betting on my success."
"Yes, I believe you."
"But, does the salon allow for rigged bets?"

"If Madame Abigail catches you conspiring, you’ll be kicked out of the membership. But romance isn’t something that can be rigged, right? Even with your status, all you managed to do with Maria was get one dance."
"…"
It seemed Alex really believed Tristan would fail to seduce Maria.

Tristan gave a wolfish smile and said,
"Forget about your bet. Next spring, if I don’t marry the most beautiful woman, I’ll give you half my fortune and crawl naked to the Redfield estate."
"And then, won’t you get shot at the Redfield estate?"

"I’d rather die naked than choose the worst marriage."
Their meaningless conversation ended when another group of guests entered the club. Having grown tired of the card game, Alex cleaned up and left first.
The waiter placed cigars and an ashtray in front of Tristan and stepped back. But Tristan, with only a cigar cutter in hand, didn’t put anything to his mouth.

It was the question he couldn’t bring himself to ask Alex that was swirling in his mind.
‘Nothing’s happened for five years. So why has Doris Redfield’s attitude changed so suddenly?’
When it came to this engagement, the attitudes of those involved had always been consistently opposed.

First of all, Tristan had always mocked and despised the engagement.
It was laughable. The essence of this engagement was a failed attempt by the Redfield family to marry their second daughter to the first prince five years ago, awkwardly concluded with this.
A union between surplus resources from different families.

Whenever this engagement was mentioned, Tristan always felt like he was being mocked with, "You’re just a child who doesn’t matter to the royal family, so whatever happens to you is of no consequence."
Was it an unreasonable anger? But the engagement itself was unreasonable, as it was entirely without the will of the people involved.
At 18, after the engagement, Tristan had decided to cancel it during the first dinner. If necessary, he would even insult the lady.

But when he faced the 16-year-old Doris Redfield, he couldn’t bring himself to insult her. What could he possibly say to a girl trembling like a newly hatched chick? She looked so small and fragile that if someone even sneezed, she might catch a cold.
So, Tristan swallowed his harsh words, barely managing to mutter a greeting, but—
She wasn’t as weak as he thought.

For the past five years, Doris had always been by his side.
Even when Tristan acted rudely, didn’t escort her at parties, ignored her tea parties, and never gave her a single bird during hunting season…
Like a lily with its stem straightened, she repeated "Engagement is sacred" and always looked in his direction.

‘Does she think she’s some kind of nun?’
But chasing after a “nun” wasn’t his style.
Tristan, determined to end his engagement with her this year, had even purposely brought it up during the New Year’s gathering with his friends. He was ready to make a decisive move.

And with the first step, he told his fiancée sharply, “Don’t expect any dance requests from me anymore.”
‘Live freely?’
Does that make any sense?

He thought Doris would definitely answer like the court priests with their white hair: “Don’t speak lightly of engagement. Heaven is watching.”
‘Then I was going to say, ‘You sound like a nun, and I can’t marry a nun,’ to make her feel repulsed!’
Why had her attitude suddenly changed?

He didn’t know the reason.
When had it changed…?
‘There’s something that stands out.’

At the spring gathering of the Redfield family last March, his fiancée, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time, was acting oddly, fidgeting like a stray cat brought into a tea party. She was making small mistakes, causing even the Countess to sigh audibly.
And that day.
While the Countess and his mother got up to look at the garden, and Tristan played with the Count’s pet dog, the maidservants busied themselves with tidying up the tablecloth in the spring breeze.

Doris Redfield, the lady of the most elegant family in the capital,—
…Had desperately reached out to catch a meringue cookie falling from the table, like a baby bird falling from its nest, and immediately popped it into her mouth.
‘When I saw it, I doubted my own eyes.’

She reached for the falling food? It didn’t touch the ground, but she still ate it?
Right after, a napkin flew up, blocking their view, so Doris wouldn’t have known that Tristan had seen her mistake.
After the napkin storm cleared, Doris Redfield, sitting across the table, was silently sitting with crumbs on her lips.

Even now, it was hard to believe.
What had the Count’s lady, the prince’s fiancée, just done?
‘She was trying so hard to look elegant like a textbook example of etiquette, but at that moment, somehow… it was cute.’

“Cough, cough, cough!”
Without realizing it, the thought had surprised Tristan, and he spilled the brandy.
The waiter rushed to him.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?"
"I... cough!"
It felt like his throat was on fire. But Tristan couldn’t finish drinking the water the waiter had brought.

He felt like if he drank anything, he might choke again.
‘What? Am I crazy?’
How could something so horribly off in terms of etiquette seem cute?

‘There’s nothing about her that’s cute.’
Sure, her dull, faded carrot-colored hair shone somewhat tolerably under the sunlight that day, and her green eyes, usually so stubborn, sparkled with enthusiasm when she grabbed the cookie. Her peach-like cheeks made him want to touch them at least once, but—
As he imagined Doris’s face in his mind, his heart began to beat faster.

It was like thinking of a scary story.
Tristan reached a quick conclusion.
‘The engagement’s been too long. Maybe now just imagining it is enough to make me sick.’

When their eyes met at the last party, his heart had pounded, and he definitely didn’t like it.
He hadn’t felt excited. He just didn’t want to get caught showing how restless he was, so he quickly turned his head.
‘Five years tied down. If I get teased by Alex about developing feelings for her, that’s the real end!’

For a better future.
Muttering to himself, Tristan poured the remaining brandy into his mouth.
***

Early April. The social season kicked off with the debutante ball, and people with money began holding parties to expand their networks in a competitive frenzy. For a lady, attending various parties was both an obligation and a privilege.
But for someone like me, who’s introverted and shy, it was just exhausting.
Once again, I turned to my aunt, who had appeared in a sharp gown.

"Aunt, the prince won't be attending this party, right? Is it okay for me to come out here alone, with my fiancé waiting for me?"
"Of course! If someone asks you for a dance, you should accept. The prince should hear that you're not the kind of person who lacks popularity!"
He doesn't care about that sort of thing!

And what if no one asks me to dance?
Before I could even voice this question, my self-esteem plummeting, my aunt sighed.
"And... just in case the prince finally decides to discard you, you should at least try to find a good man."

"..."
"Good luck."
Her words made my heart ache a little, but after finishing, she disappeared into her group of friends. Was she here to help me? Or was she just out here for fun, using me as an excuse?

Well, it’s a relief.
I headed straight for the dessert table.
Of course, I wasn’t just eating.

‘I can’t escape the social scene, so I might as well get used to it.’
The book on European history was… in the 920s section of the Dewey Decimal Classification. I recalled some of the content from the book, comparing it to this novel's setting.
At first, I should memorize the faces of the people here.

At the entrance, as guests arrived, the servant would announce each newcomer: "Lord and Lady So-and-So entering!"
Then, those who were close to the newcomers would step forward, while people with bad relationships would hide within the crowd.
Watching human interactions was pretty interesting.

By now, the dance songs had changed a couple of times, and the ladies who had just finished dancing giggled as they ran to the next table.
Soon, the gossip began.
"A man with no popularity is really troublesome! He asked if he could have the next dance just because she accepted one dance from him!"

"Oh my, how clueless. That’s basically like asking the lady, 'Are you so unpopular that you couldn’t even get a request for the next dance?'"
"Exactly! It was really bad, but not to the point where she couldn’t get any requests."
"Right. Plus, Maria isn’t here today, and neither is Natalie, right?"

Ah, familiar names. The beautiful heroine and her beautiful villainous sister.
I leaned in, curiosity piqued. It seemed they hadn’t noticed me listening, as they continued to chatter away.