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

"What is it?"

Tristan hesitated for a moment before asking, "What would happen if monsters appeared in Blue Atrium?"

The Queen's eyes widened in surprise.

"What are you talking about? Surely you're not suggesting—"

"No, no," Tristan interrupted, quickly covering for himself. "It's purely hypothetical. Blue Atrium is near Frost Hill, and it’s not impossible for a lucky monster to cross over, is it?"

Fortunately, the Queen didn’t seem to suspect his hastily concocted explanation.

"Ahahaha! While technically adjacent, Frost Hill is vast. Even if a lucky monster managed to get past the northern fortress and through the castle, they wouldn’t make it out of the region. You should study the map more carefully."

"What if they traveled along the coastline or emerged directly in Blue Atrium?"

"Why are you so full of worries today, Tristan?"

The Queen responded without much thought.

"It would be fine. If such a thing were to happen, the Grand Duke of Frost Hill would handle it, and we’d find you a different estate to govern."

Bullseye.

Though the confirmation was what he expected, it didn’t bring him any joy.

"Don’t worry. We’d never demand anything unreasonable of you. Monster management or gemstone mining—such things would be entrusted to someone more suitable."

Of course.

His parents didn’t expect much from Tristan at all.

No, there was exactly one thing they expected:

"Live quietly."

Avoid overshadowing his eldest brother, but don’t embarrass the royal family either.

"If you failed to manage a monster-infested territory, it would reflect poorly on the royal family. And the old lord would start shouting, ‘My illegitimate son would’ve done better!’"

"…"

"You don’t look happy. Don’t worry, Tristan. You’ll always be given a suitable position. And if you don’t end up governing Blue Atrium, your engagement…"

Now, they were getting to the main point.

Tristan clenched his fist under the table, his nerves taut.

"Naturally, your engagement to the Redfield family would lose its purpose. You’d be free to marry any lady you fancy."

It was the answer he had anticipated, the one he had hoped for.

And yet, for some reason, he felt no joy.

Before he realized it, a response he hadn’t intended slipped out.

"But won’t the Earl of Redfield object? After keeping his youngest daughter tied to an engagement for five years, who would take Doris Redfield after me?"

"Is that our concern?"

"That’s… well…"

"The Earl’s cooperation five years ago was appreciated, but the family itself holds little value. They lack substantial wealth or connections, don’t they?"

I was asking about Doris Redfield.

Why is she always judged solely as ‘the Earl’s daughter’?

Tristan swallowed his next words, washing them down with tea. He already knew the answer.

To them, Doris had no value outside of being the Earl’s daughter. She lacked charm and wasn’t particularly beautiful.

She merely made him feel a little better when he thought of her smiling face.

Clink. The sound of the Queen setting her teacup down abruptly on its saucer broke his train of thought.

"Let’s not indulge in such fantasies any longer. Most likely, you’ll become the peaceful lord of Blue Atrium, and Doris Redfield will be there at your side."

"Understood."

"My business here is concluded. You must be tired—go rest now."

The Queen rose and stretched, visibly relieved to have unburdened herself of long-held thoughts.

As her silver hair retreated into the distance, Tristan asked himself:

Why didn’t I tell her about the rumors of monsters in Blue Atrium?

One word, and his engagement to Doris Redfield would be over. The dangerous estate could have been handed off to someone else—someone like that bear of a man.

…No. I’m not certain yet.

This was a significant matter.

There was no harm in waiting to confirm the presence of monsters before bringing it up.

And besides, he thought, who else but me would marry Doris Redfield?

There was no rush to disappoint her. That could wait.

***

After the royal ball concluded, the Earl and Countess were positively gleeful, indulging in celebratory dreams that seemed more like drinking broth made from nonexistent chickens.

“Do you think Doris can handle the role of a Duchess? The girl is just so mild-tempered. I’m worried,” said the Countess.

“She’s surely better suited for it than Natalie, don’t you think? Northern folk are known for being stoic. If Natalie were sent there, she might die of boredom,” replied the Earl.

“Well, maybe Natalie would perform her duties as Duchess better. It’s about time she redirected all that energy from the dance hall to administrative work.”

Arthur and I have never spoken for more than an hour, you delusional humans.

Their wild speculations eventually reached me, curled up on the sofa with a book in hand.

“Doris, what are you reading?”

“An encyclopedia.”

“And what good is that? …Oh, wait, are you studying in advance for life in the North? Keep reading, then.”

As if.

At least their meddling stopped for a while, allowing me to return to my book.

But my thoughts were elsewhere.

It was Saturday, the day of the Sacred Salon.

Today, I could finally settle my last bet.

“Time to collect my two coins.”

Would they be delivered as physical coins? Given the risk of misplacing them, the staff likely kept a record instead. Still, wouldn’t it be delightful if they came as commemorative coins…

Wait, what’s this?

While I was fantasizing about coins, the maids approached me with unusual intent.

“What are you doing?”

“Excuse us, my lady.”

Before I could properly sit up, they had already started their task. Avoiding eye contact, they placed what looked like a large shoe on my foot.

Weight pressed down immediately.

“What… is this?!”

Startled, I sprang off the sofa. My gaze fell on a cast—yes, a cast—encasing my foot.

What is this nonsense?

Seeing my confusion, Mother spoke up.

“I heard from your aunt that the young Duke trampled your foot quite harshly at the ball.”

“It’s fine now! It doesn’t even hurt anymore!”

“It needs to hurt. We’ve already spread the rumor, after all.”

“Rumor? Why… Don’t tell me—”

“The young Duke heard you’re still limping and is planning to visit today. If you dare remove that cast, your father will step on your foot again himself. Now, lie down and behave.”

Wow. They’re worse than Mrs. Bennet marrying off her daughters in the rain.

Before I could launch into my usual “I have a fiancé” protest, Mother cut me off.

“Think of your sister.”

“…Pardon?”

“The young Duke’s visit is an opportunity not only for you but for Natalie as well. Do you want her to remain unmarried and unhappy another year?”

It wasn’t about what I wanted or didn’t want—Natalie wasn’t destined to marry.

She’s a villainess. Her fate is to envy the heroine and end up banished to a convent.

Still, the thought gave me pause.

Is Natalie still the villainess?

I couldn’t call her a good person, but her occasional acts of kindness toward me didn’t make her seem like a bad one either.

Would she change once Arthur and Maria’s love story truly began?

And the bigger question:@@novelbin@@

Does Natalie have to become the villainess for me to have my happy ending?

It felt like a heavy stone had settled on my chest. Memories of Natalie pinning a feathered ornament in my hair flashed in my mind.

I wanted my happy ending.

But also—

“…I don’t want my sister to be unhappy.”

“Then keep wearing that cast.”

So, that’s the conclusion, huh?

I lifted my right foot. It wasn’t just plaster—it was surprisingly heavy.

“Do I have to wear it now? Couldn’t I put it on when the young Duke enters the garden?”

“You should get used to it. Besides, you spend all your time reading at home anyway, don’t you?”

I had no rebuttal.

After Mother left the parlor, the maids chuckled sympathetically.

“If you need anything, just ask. We’ll bring it right away.”

“Then bring me a madeleine to comfort my poor soul. With a pretty little belly button, please.”

“The mistress banned butter, so you’ll have to settle for candy.”

Tragic.

Chewing on candy as a poor substitute, I was interrupted by one of the maids’ cheerful remarks.

“There’s a lovely new pastry shop nearby. If your guest has any sense, they might bring you something from there!”

“Candy it is, then.”

“Does the young Duke not seem like the type to bring sweets?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

If he were a modern Korean, he’d probably bring a fruit basket to the hospital—an outdated gesture that costs money and inconveniences both the patient and their family.

The maid’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“What’s he like? They say his gaze is as sharp as obsidian arrows.”

“His face is so high up, I couldn’t get a good look. You’ll have to see for yourself later.”

“Oh, I’m out on errands this afternoon… Thank you for telling me, my lady.”

As the maid left, disappointment etched across her face, someone knocked on the front door.

“Lady Doris, you have a visitor. May I let them in?”

The maids clasped their hands and silently squealed. I calmly replied, “Yes, let them in.”

This early?

Not that I minded. Earlier appointments meant earlier freedom.

One maid hurried to fetch Natalie, while another busily adjusted my hair. But when the door opened, all movement ceased.

The visitor wasn’t the young Duke.

“Hello, Lady Doris.”

“Maria? What brings you here?”

“I heard you were injured. Are you feeling better now?”

Maria Meyer—the angelic heroine of the original story—stepped into the parlor, her eyes widening as she noticed my cast.

“You’ve been hurt this badly?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m much better now. …By the way, who’s that with you?”

“Oh, my goodness, where are my manners? Let me introduce you.”

Maria gestured to the man standing two steps behind her.

“This is Rick Ray, my friend.”

The man bowed theatrically and added, “And Lady Meyer’s escort knight.”

“Oh, don’t say such embarrassing things! It’s not like I have enough status to employ multiple knights!”

“I just think the title ‘escort knight’ sounds cool. Don’t you agree, Lady Doris?”

The tall man’s playful tone naturally drew me in.

Rick Ray.

The second male lead of the original story, a knight who became friends with Maria in her late teens.

And…

“Lady, now that I’ve given my name, may I know yours?”

As his green eyes and brown hair came into view, and he knelt slightly to meet my gaze, a memory surfaced.

I suddenly recalled the skeletal mask I had seen at the Sacred Salon.