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

Tristan was waiting nearby, perhaps on standby.

In one swift motion, he ascended the stage.

A young man with a build that seemed out of place for such a bird-like movement, Tristan commanded attention effortlessly. I wasn’t immune to it either.

Why does he look so impressive?

Just earlier, he was the same idle nobleman I was all too familiar with.

Could it really be the cape making him look dashing? Then I realized something.

Tristan’s face was completely expressionless.

Combined with his attire, which resembled that of a military commander, he looked as though he could raise his hand and command the start of a battle, and it would feel entirely fitting.

But just moments ago, when he was with me, his expression was entirely…

While I tried to recall the familiar expressions I’d grown used to, a servant approached Tristan and handed him a pristine white bow and arrow.

Tristan effortlessly gripped the nearly person-sized bow and slowly pulled back the string. Even the thick bow, reminiscent of a buffalo’s horn, resisted him, a clear testament to the immense strength required. Yet, his face remained serene.

He released the string.

Thwang!

The sound tore through the air, sharp and resonant. From that sound alone, it was clear that the bowstring served as the ceremonial horn to mark the start of the competition.

Having completed his role, Tristan lowered the bow without a word. The crowd, however, remained captivated by his every movement, too stunned to make a sound.

In the silence, the only voice that followed was that of the Second Prince, who stood at the forefront and hadn’t spared a glance at the stage.

"Advance!"

The men in formation spurred their horses. The herd of chestnut thoroughbreds surged forward like a wave.

The sight was unexpectedly breathtaking.

"Wow…"@@novelbin@@

As the wave met the forest’s edge, it split like water around rocks. Some riders ascended the hills, while others followed the riverside trails.

Within less than a minute, the participants disappeared into the woods, each heading toward their designated hunting grounds.

The banners marking different groups faded one by one, and the banner of the Northern Duke’s faction was the first to vanish from view. The final group to remain was that of the Third Prince.

As the rearmost riders prepared to move, the crowd erupted into applause.

Tristan, riding at the very back, glanced over the departing participants, occasionally patting the shoulders of younger contestants whose hands trembled with nerves.

So he pays attention to things like that… I thought, surprised.

Then, Tristan turned slightly to face the remaining crowd.

Unlike his brothers, he had yet to say a word. Was he planning to make some parting remark?

To my surprise, he remained silent.

Instead, he raised his hand and tapped his chest twice.

Before I could even begin to ponder the meaning of his gesture, the riders surged forward.

The brown horses vanished like an ebbing tide. The dust stirred by the final riders was quickly subdued by servants sprinkling water on the ground, making it difficult to see where they were headed.

Still, I stood on tiptoe, trying to catch a glimpse of where Tristan went—

"Whoops!"

"Ahh! Who’s there?!"

Startled, I nearly kicked the person who suddenly lifted me from behind. Thankfully, the potential disaster was avoided when the culprit spoke.

"Who else would lift you up like this? It’s me, Doris."

"Ah, sister."

"So, what were you craning your neck for? Who were you looking for?"

"My betrothed."

"…You could’ve sugarcoated that a bit."

"Father."

"Now that lie’s so overly polite, it’s offensive."

"Actually, I was looking for you."

One second passed.

"Hahaha! Learning how to navigate life, are you? But do you think such an obvious lie will make me happy? Hm? Really?"

You are happy! Just look at how you’re bouncing me like a toddler!

Natalie eventually set me down and turned to Maria, who had been standing awkwardly nearby. She greeted her belatedly.

"It’s been a while, Lady Maria."

"Hello, Lady Natalie. It’s a pleasure to see you again at such a delightful occasion!"

"A delightful occasion? Are you serious? You don’t look like someone who’d enjoy a hunting competition."

Right… just because she’s nice to me doesn’t mean she’s gentle with everyone.

But Maria wasn’t someone easily hurt by words.

"I don’t enjoy hunting itself. But I’m glad to share such a rare and refined experience with familiar faces. I’d have felt quite lost without anyone I knew."

"No other friends besides Doris?"

"I’m embarrassed to say I’ve only exchanged introductions with the others… I hope to become closer to them during this event."

"I see."

Natalie refrained from making any harsher comments. Instead, she delivered a cryptic remark.

"In the social world, being merely acquainted is often more dangerous."

The meaning of her words became clear later at the tea party near the hunting grounds.

After the opening ceremony, the ladies returned to their respective tents. Once refreshed and retouched, they awaited messengers sent by prominent hostesses, inviting them to tea parties. From there, they spent the time exchanging trivialities and impatiently anticipating the evening banquet.

This was Natalie’s summary of hunting competitions.

"Of course, you could stay in the tent. Watching hunters return empty-handed for supplies and mocking them, like, ‘Oh dear, he’s only good for wasting water,’ is always fun."

"But Mother said people would gossip if we didn’t attend the tea parties. Aren’t you going?"

"I might consider it if you’re going. What if you start crying because you’re lonely?"

"I won’t cry."

If I did cry, it would be from the agony of awkward small talk with strangers, not loneliness.

The Sacred Salon was much more comfortable, perhaps thanks to the anonymity of the masks.

Soon, a maid arrived at the Redfield tent, announcing an invitation from a countess hosting a tea party.

I naturally accepted, and after some deliberation, Natalie nodded as well.

Shortly after, we headed to the tea party, accompanied by our maid. Beyond the paths winding between large tents, a spacious patio awaited us.

The ladies already present greeted us with reflexive smiles, though their faces stiffened the moment they noticed Natalie.

Should I hang a sign around her neck that says, “I won’t bite if you don’t come too close”?

Fortunately for them, Maria recognized us and waved.

"Lady Natalie, you’ve come too!"

"Oh, what a coincidence."

"Would you like to sit here? The view is lovely."

Natalie accepted and sat beside Maria, effectively placing herself as a buffer between Maria and me. The other ladies visibly relaxed.

With a maid bringing over a trolley of tea, the party officially began.

Perhaps because we were outdoors rather than in a stifling tea room, the atmosphere felt more relaxed than I had expected.

"Who do you think will win the hunting competition?"

"Everyone’s saying the young marquis, but I doubt it. Has he ever hunted outside snowy mountains?"

"Wow! Look, someone’s already filling their cart. Who could it be?"

I merely nodded and turned my attention elsewhere.

What is this egg tart? It’s so good I’d sell my estate for more.

The pepper sablé cookies paired perfectly, cutting through the sweetness. Who knew sweet-and-savory combinations could work in desserts other than salted caramel?

While I was absorbed in my food, the group naturally divided into smaller clusters. Most hovered around the countess, contributing comments here and there, while a few whispered among themselves or gazed toward the hunting grounds.

Apparently, this didn’t sit well with the countess.

She addressed a lady who had been watching the forest.

"Your eyes sparkled just now. Did your hunter arrive?"

"Oh, no, you misunderstood!"

"There’s no need to be embarrassed. Have you received your parents’ approval? Your families seem slightly mismatched…"

The countess’s voice was so gentle that it masked the sharpness of her words.

While the lady fumbled for a response, the other guests craned their necks to spot the hunter in question, lowering their voices to whisper amongst themselves.

Mother said people would gossip if we didn’t attend tea parties. But even when you attend, they gossip to your face.

The flustered lady tried to express her discomfort, but the countess smoothly redirected the conversation to another topic, asking who was familiar with certain hunters or cheering for whom.

That’s when I realized something about the attendees.

They’re all young.

Except for the countess, most were in their early twenties. Too young to easily push back against the countess’s subtle jabs.

Of course, there were exceptions, like Natalie—

I glanced at her. She was smiling faintly, watching the scene unfold as though she were thoroughly entertained.

She seemed perfectly satisfied with the tea party.

Right. I keep forgetting—Natalie is an antagonist. She doesn’t care about other people’s misfortunes.

The countess probably invited her because she knew Natalie wouldn’t interfere.

Realizing this made the desserts taste like sand.

Whether you attended or not, gossip was inevitable.

Even the initially startled ladies eventually became complicit, unable to stop the countess’s cutting remarks.

Just as I contemplated leaving early, the countess shifted her attention to a new target.