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

I revisited Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

This time, however, there was no escape button to press.

What excuse could I give to refuse my betrothed's invitation for a walk?

In the end, I moved to stand beside Tristan.

The path beside the royal family's camp was far from a typical campsite; it resembled an elegant fairy-tale garden. June was the season when nature shone its brightest, with lush greens and vibrant blooms decorating every corner.

A pure sense of awe escaped my lips.

"Wow, it’s as if the storm skipped this place entirely. It’s stunning."

"We had workers restore the campsite. While mud might not bother the men, it wouldn’t do to let ladies’ gowns get soiled."

"It’s not just the gowns, is it? Your Highness’s fine boots must be…"

Wait. Speaking of dresses, I suddenly remembered something important to tell Tristan.

"Your Highness, thank you so much for the dress you sent me recently."

"…"

"You even remembered my favorite color… It’s as beautiful as a lake at dawn. Just seeing it hanging in my wardrobe fills me with excitement. It’s truly exquisite."

"…"

"Ah, I didn’t wear it today since it’s an outdoor event, but—"

I couldn’t bring myself to admit that it didn’t fit.

"I hope to wear it at a future event where we’re both invited. Your Highness?"

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Was he upset that I’d taken so long to thank him?

I tried to look up at him.

Tristan…

The moment I turned my head, he almost snapped his neck whipping his gaze away from me.

"Your Highness?"

This time, he didn’t just avert his eyes—he turned his whole body away. Without showing even the side of his face, he muttered something absurd.

"There’s no need to wear it out. Just wear it at home or something."

"Your Highness, it’s a dress, not a nightgown."

"A nightgown… would be… um, a bit premature…"

"…Excuse me? Your Highness, what are you thinking right now?"

"Ahem, nothing at all."

After a suspiciously awkward cough, he changed the subject.

"Exchanging gifts is a delightful tradition."

"It certainly is."

"It’s fortunate the weather is so pleasant today. Whatever gifts are exchanged will shine beautifully under the sun."

"Yes, it’s perfect for hunting as well."

"Indeed. A bit of encouragement would make the hunt even better."

"…"

"Anything would suffice—no matter how small, simple, or modest it may be."

"Oh…"

"…Really, anything at all. Small, thin, unembellished, lightweight—it wouldn’t matter."

Was he dropping hints for a gift?

He was practically pleading at this point, his tone growing more pitiful with every word.

But even that plain handkerchief I’d prepared was sitting back at the tent.

I decided to deflect with words instead.

"I hope you return safely."

Pointing to a nearby hill where patches of soil were exposed, I added, "The paths are so rough. I’m worried you might get hurt."

Not that I was actually worried.

The recent storm had been conveniently timed to set up the classic trope: “Oh no! The hero and heroine slipped down the hunting trail into a secluded ravine! Now they must huddle together to stay warm!” Most participants would return without so much as a scratch.

Unaware of my inner thoughts, Tristan chuckled.

"You underestimate me. Only novices who’ve never held a rein outside their own backyard would trip in the mud."

"But one of those novices could slip and fall in front of your horse, causing you to get hurt."

Accidents weren’t something you could avoid just by being careful. That’s a universal truth.

Tristan didn’t argue further.

"Understood. I’ll return safely."

Just then, a distant horn sounded, likely summoning everyone for the opening ceremony.

"Your Highness, we should head back to—ah, Your Highness!"

Tristan reached out toward me, and I felt a sudden sharp tug on my scalp.

Did he just pluck out some of my hair as a replacement gift?!

Startled, I turned to look at him.

"…Your Highness, what are you doing?"

In his hand was one of my hairpins—a delicate green piece adorned with peridot.

Twisting it between his fingers, he then placed it into the second buttonhole of his jacket.

"To remember that someone wishes for my safe return."

"Your Highness, please wait!"

Frantically, I ran my fingers through my hair. As I feared, several strands were sticking out awkwardly where the pin had been pulled out. The hairpin had likely snagged a few as it came loose.

The uneven appearance of my hair wasn’t the worst of it, though. Among the dozen pins my maid had meticulously placed, one gap was glaringly obvious. It looked like I’d lost it by accident!@@novelbin@@

"Please give it back! I actually have a proper gift I left at the tent. I’ll bring it to you!"

"…Truly?"

"It’s nothing fancy, and you might be disappointed, but… I wouldn’t show up unprepared!"

Even if I hadn’t received so much as a lark from him in past hunting competitions!

Tristan looked at me with mild suspicion.

"When exactly were you planning to give this gift?"

"At the evening banquet…?"

"There’s no guarantee I’ll have time then. The hosts must keep moving throughout the event."

"Ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that."

Now that I thought about it, even my parents were always bustling about during parties, ensuring no guest felt neglected and quelling any potential conflicts.

Feeling flustered, I mumbled, "I’ll make sure to give it to you later, no matter how late it gets. Please just return safely."

The horn sounded again, signaling that it was time for participants to gather. Tristan and I both quickened our pace toward the main area, though he naturally walked ahead of me.

Was he angry?

What had he expected from a fiancée he’d consistently neglected?

And yet, if I handed him just a plain handkerchief, he’d probably criticize me for that too. What could I even do to make it better…

Lost in thought, I arrived back at the campsite just as Tristan approached the stage for the ceremony.

"Your Highness, please return my hairpin!"

"Isn’t this the gift you gave me?"

"I told you, I actually have a real gift prepared! Besides, I’m embarrassed to walk around with my hair looking like this…"

Tristan glanced back at me and smirked slightly.

"I think it suits you."

"What? How does this look good? It’s obvious something’s missing!"

"It’s better this way. The idiots with no sense won’t waste their hunting prizes on you."

"…"

His unexpected comment left me speechless.

Why would anyone give me a hunting prize? Was it some variation of “even an ugly duckling looks good to its own family”?

Wait—was that even a compliment?

He was basically saying only clueless fools would bother giving me anything!

"Your Highness, what exactly did you mean by that—"

"Let’s hope you stay out of unnecessary trouble. I really don’t have time to spare for you today."

Without looking back, Tristan strode toward the prepared stage, his long legs carrying him far ahead in an instant.

Sigh…

Tristan’s Law:
Bad luck will always strike the unlucky.

As I tried to fix my disheveled hair, I trudged back toward our tent. After walking for some time, Maria waved to me, her eyes sparkling alongside those of her maid.

"Doris! How was your walk with His Highness? Did you give him your gift?"

"Oh… is that why you left?"

"Yes! You’d already given me so much courage, and I didn’t want to interrupt your time together."

You could’ve interrupted!

Maria tilted her head curiously as she noticed my hair, with its obvious gap where a pin was missing.

Before she could comment, I quickly said, "Don’t worry about it."

That, of course, only made it seem like I was making excuses. Maria smiled knowingly.

"So you didn’t lose it?"

"…"

Should I say it was stolen? Or held hostage?

Her maid, eyes shining with curiosity, hesitated before blurting out, "Is it perhaps… oh, never mind! I’m sorry for being impolite!"

"…"

Why didn’t you just finish that thought? Now I’m even more curious about what you’re imagining!

I clumsily twisted the loose strands of hair around a nearby pin. Ugh, now it really looked like someone had messed with my hair on purpose.

Just then, the ceremonial horn sounded. Unlike the earlier ones, this was a harmonious blend of multiple instruments, drawing everyone’s attention to the center of the campsite.

At the heart of the grounds, on a stage draped in blue fabric, the First Prince ascended.

He was a man destined to become king—not because of any exceptional merits or faults, but simply by virtue of being the eldest.

"Once again, young blood gathers at Silver Helm this year. This land, which once served as a natural fortress during our nation’s early days…"

I tuned out his speech, admiring the surroundings until he finally stepped down.

The Second Prince then rose, his voice more commanding.

"Now, all participants, to your positions!"

As stable hands brought forward the horses, the participants mounted one by one. When they formed a triangular formation, the Second Prince positioned himself at the lead.

So the ceremony ends when they depart…

Just as I wondered what role Tristan had in all of this, I saw—