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

My stomach growled in protest. I came all this way for waffles, and now I’m being offered candy?!

My brain chimed in, Is this the time to be picky? Just get some sugar, whatever form it takes!

But before I gave in to my body’s demands, my last shred of self-control intervened.

“Your Highness, why are you suddenly being so kind to me?”

Was that too blunt?

Still, it was better to address it directly. If I didn’t, he’d likely keep misunderstanding.

Tristan flinched, as though I’d hit a nerve.

“I appreciate your concern, but someone who’s always been at Maria’s side during these events suddenly approaching me… Did I do something to catch your attention?”

Please don’t pay attention to me.

When a character who didn’t care in the original story starts noticing the transmigrated protagonist, it’s a clear sign the love plot is about to shift.

If we’d always been enemies, fine—but we’re destined to marry, with him regretting it the whole way. If he starts acting differently now, it’s unsettling!

I watched Tristan’s lips closely, bracing myself for some infuriatingly normal thought like, Isn’t it natural to care about one’s fiancée?

His lips parted slowly, and…

“...Like a dog.”

“Pardon?”

“A dog… No, like a puppy. You looked so forlorn, like one staring at an empty food bowl. How could I not notice?”

I rescinded about 50% of my earlier thoughts. Maybe you should work on your attitude.

Yet, once he started, Tristan’s mouth couldn’t stop spewing puppy analogies.

“Honestly, I’m the only one who’ll say this directly to you. While I’m at it—do you know how much of a spectacle you were at the last party, devouring madeleines whole? What kind of lunatic would be charmed by that?”

“I ate them because I wanted to. Whether or not anyone was charmed is none of my concern.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Actually, Your Highness, your wording is quite odd. Most people don’t find someone eating to be particularly charming. If anything, bad table manners might ruin their interest.”

“...Right. Of course. That’s… reasonable.”

Why does he look so dejected when he’s the one who came to criticize me?

Anyway.

“Are you here to scold me, offer me a snack, or both?”

“If I offered you a small snack, would you accept it?”

“Of course.”

Let’s calm down.

I need to stay on good terms with Tristan. That way, he’ll like me later, when it matters.

What would Doris Redfield do here?

...Maybe a little praise to soften the mood?

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. It warms my heart to know that someone in this vast palace is looking out for me.”

I forced my lips into the sweetest smile, inflating my sincerity by about 250%. Tristan glanced at me briefly before abruptly turning his head.

“It’s nothing remarkable. Whether the engagement is meaningful or not, the fact remains that you are my fiancée.”

“Indeed.”

“So… about that.”

“Yes?”

“In a little while, at the ball…”

Why is he stammering? How awkward is this going to get?

“Are you going to tell me not to eat snacks in the hall?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

“You’ve already mentioned my eating habits multiple times.”

“That’s irrelevant! What I meant was…”

But Tristan didn’t get to finish his sentence.

A sharp voice cut through the air, hitting the back of my head like a whip.

“Dori! I told you to wait patiently! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? The dance is about to start, and you’re just… Oh… My apologies! Please, take your time.”

My aunt’s tone shifted mid-sentence to an exaggerated laugh as she noticed Tristan standing behind me, partially obscured by a suit of armor.

I hope she didn’t get the wrong idea.

I looked up at Tristan.

“Sounds like the dance will begin soon. You’d better head out—oh!”

I suddenly remembered something Tristan had said in the greenhouse.

“Your Highness, didn’t you mention before that you might ask me to dance? Were you planning on that today?”

“What do you mean, ‘planning on that today’?”

“We’re standing in front of the Queen, after all. Wouldn’t it look strange to leave your fiancée out of the first dance?”

“...True. That’s a fair point.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“So, with that in mind, would you—dance with me?”

“You don’t even need to ask, Your Highness. I’m always ready to take your hand. However…”

I tried my best to look as virtuous as possible, hiding my ulterior motives.

“For the first dance, please choose the person you truly wish to dance with.”

“The person I truly wish to dance with? What do you mean?”

Don’t play dumb.

Maria. That stunning beauty you’ve been trailing all this time.

Please, save my Sacred Salon bet!

“Think about it however you like. This is your moment to shine in the royal ball. I’ll follow shortly, as is proper…”

“I’ll go now.”

“What?”

Tristan reached out, and before I realized it, his hand was firmly resting on my left shoulder.

“Your Highness?”

My voice came out louder than intended, almost like a squeak. Tristan flinched but didn’t remove his hand.

“Why are you so startled? Didn’t you say you’re always ready to take my hand?”

“Are you saying… we’re going out together?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

In theory, no. It would be odd to leave separately.

But why is he suddenly acting like this?

If we walk in together, and the Queen notices us, what if she says something like, ‘Oh, you look so close—why not dance together?’

My Sacred Salon bet!

As I scrambled for a way to send Tristan ahead without me, my body betrayed me.

Grrrrr….

“…….”

“……Dori Redfield.”@@novelbin@@

“I-I’m sorry! I swear I ate before coming!”

Maybe it was all the tea I drank on an empty stomach, but my growling stomach was loud, clear, and mortifying.

Tristan shook his head.

“Candy won’t cut it. I’ll have a maid bring you to the refreshments so you can eat something proper.”

“T-Thank you, but I’m so sorry…”

“There’s no need to apologize to me. Save your apologies for any man who’s smitten by your elegant appearance.”

“……”

Thank you for thoroughly obliterating both my gratitude and my dignity, Your Highness.

You! You’re the one destined to marry me anyway!

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—I’m your fiancée, Your Highness. Who would suddenly start courting me?”

When we arrived at the room where the refreshments were being prepared, I gently pushed Tristan toward the direction of the hall.

“Still, thank you. And… thank you for calling me elegant.”

“……”

“You’re the only one who seems to notice my good points, Your Highness.”

Even though I knew that “elegant” probably meant “boring and uptight,” a compliment was still a compliment.

As he walked down the corridor, Tristan paused briefly and turned back to me.

“Your Highness? Is something wrong?”

“...Don’t be late.”

“Of course not. See you later, Your Highness.”

I curtseyed gracefully and turned toward the enticing sound of bread being sliced.

At first, the maids in the refreshment area were nervous around me, as expected. I was, after all, the prince’s fiancée.

But after I showcased my talent by devouring a sandwich in just two bites, the tension eased significantly.

“Here’s how to make the waffles extra delicious,” one of them said.

“Oh, how pretty!”

I topped a waffle with chocolate ice cream and decorated the edges with finely chopped fruit. One of the maids even clapped.

This place really was a waffle paradise. Natalie hadn’t lied.

“It’s lovely to see someone genuinely enjoying the food,” a maid said. “Most of the ladies just nibble nervously.”

“Corsets are partly to blame. My aunt nearly tightened mine another inch earlier.”

“Oh, but your waist is already so slender!”

“Exactly!”

This confident remark caused one of the younger maids to burst into laughter.

“Lady Redfield, you’re much more fun than I expected! When we heard you’d be coming to eat, we were so— Oh!”

A senior maid quickly clamped her hand over the younger one’s mouth.

“Please forgive her! Such rudeness in front of the future princess—”

“It’s fine. And I’m not a princess yet—just a guest.”

“But you’ll be one soon enough. Naturally, we must treat you as such.”

The younger maid retreated, bowing repeatedly in embarrassment.

A few other maids approached to tidy my hair and carefully brush crumbs off my dress.

Most of the socialites assumed I’d be discarded by Tristan eventually, gossiping about me behind my back. But here, the maids believed in my future with him.

It felt… oddly nice.

After finishing my meal and refreshing myself with sparkling water, I stood and left the bustling kitchen area.

The space was alive with chatter as staff darted around.

“The dance is starting soon! Two plates were broken while moving the tables—replace them quickly.”

“Did you see Arthur Albion, the young duke? He’s even more handsome than the rumors! Three ladies have already spilled their drinks trying to get his attention—someone clean the carpet!”

“Viscountess Rose is asking for port wine. I overheard them scheming to get Maria Meyer drunk to embarrass her.”

The servants’ world was a chaotic mess of information.

Just as I was about to leave the area, a conversation caught my ear.

“They say the young duke is approaching Maria! Is he going to ask her to dance?”

“Eek, really? I told you their looks to each other weren’t normal!”

Finally!

But Maria’s first dance partner will be Tristan!

With two chips riding on this victory, I quickened my steps to witness the moment of triumph firsthand.