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

Everyone turned to look at me as if they had been waiting.

Wow, no pressure at all.

‘It’s okay, you’ve got this.’

I was a good librarian, wasn’t I?

And most importantly—this world doesn’t have customer feedback forms!@@novelbin@@

“Is this your first hunting tournament, everyone? Raise your hand if this is your first time… And how about your second time?”

Most of the ladies at the tea party raised their hands within the first two tries. As expected, they were novices.

Not that I’m any different—this is my first hunting tournament too!

Ha. Ha. Ha.

But in the service industry, you can’t afford to look like a rookie. Customers might be forgiving of a beginner, but they’re also more likely to wonder, ‘Did I really receive proper service?’

So, I asked in a confident tone, as though I’d participated in a hundred hunting tournaments before.

“For those of you here for the first time, you must be feeling both nervous and excited. Now, let me ask you something—did you all prepare gifts for your hunters?”

The younger ladies began to open up, one by one.

“I was too shy to give one…”
“They turned me down…”
“I want to give it to someone who’ll at least bring me back a rabbit, but I don’t even know who to choose!”

Their varied stories sparked a wave of empathy and camaraderie as they exchanged glances. ‘You too? Me too!’

Observing this, I mentally organized the common traits of the group.

They were mostly in their early twenties. Their main goal this social season was to find a suitable husband. But few of them had clear ideas about marriage or romance.

So, a program that catered to their interests would be…

Let’s start with some bait.

“Not everything goes as planned, but imagination is free, isn’t it? What kind of gift would you like to receive today?”

“Um…”

“Let’s be honest. Don’t worry about the ‘Queen of the Hunt’ title. Personally, I’d like a live rabbit. Just one soft kiss on its fluffy fur before letting it go.”

The group, who had likely been imagining stags or wolves as hunting prizes, seemed taken aback by my unexpected preference.

Maria, however, nodded immediately.

“That’s true. Honestly, I wouldn’t want a dead animal either. I’d happily accept meat as a gift, but… celebrating in front of a deer carcass would feel a little strange.”

“I get that. Even if it’s contradictory, it’s understandable,” someone else agreed, nodding.

“If I had to choose, I’d like to receive just the antlers. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“I prefer feathers! Why don’t they release birds instead of just four-legged animals?”
“Actually, I’d like a bouquet. I’m not interested in animals…”

“You like flowers? Did you see the lavender blooming in the outer garden earlier?”

The atmosphere had clearly shifted from earlier, when gossiping about others was the only entertainment.

Now, as everyone shared their preferences, they began to exchange glances with those who had similar tastes. The mood was warming up.

Seizing the moment, I sent one of the maids on an errand.

The maid looked flustered.

“To the event headquarters? Should I just hand this over?”

“Tell them the fiancée of Prince Tristan sent you. Say it’s for the participants’ entertainment. If they need more assurance, tell them I’ll draft a proposal myself.”

“A… proposal?”

“Actually, just ask for it politely. Oh, and on your way, see if you can find out where my sister and the Countess are.”

“Understood!”

The maid dashed off toward the headquarters.

While she was gone, I called over another maid and instructed her to rearrange the tables.

“Place the tea foods on both sides and the center. Clear this section, and bring a few chairs over there.”

Though puzzled, the maids followed my directions without question.

Before long, the first maid returned with the requested items.

“I’m back, my lady! They said they had plenty to spare and just handed it over.”

The box she brought contained writing utensils, paper, and colored chalk.

I’d guessed the organizers would have an abundance of these supplies to record hunting results like trophies, counts, and rankings.

And I’d been right—they had extras.

‘Royal events like this are always generously budgeted to avoid any embarrassing shortages.’

Plus, event planners often use up surplus funds on non-essential items to avoid next year’s budget being cut.

No way they’d skimp on something as basic as pens and paper for an event of this scale.

The supplies were ready.

Then the maid shared the most important update.

“Lady Natalie dragged the Countess to another tea table, and they’ve started arguing. It doesn’t look like they’ll be back anytime soon.”

“…I see. Thank you.”

My sister never ceases to exceed expectations.

Have fun while you’re at it.

I stood before the group, sensing that the excitement over the gift topic was starting to wane.

Recalling the program I’d once run for waiting parents at the library, I smiled.

“I believe everyone’s had a lively conversation about gifts. But isn’t it a bit of a waste to stop at just imagining the gifts?”

I slid a blank sheet of paper across the table.

“How about we imagine what happens after you’ve received your gift?”

“Huh?”

“For example, one of you mentioned wanting deer antlers earlier. What would you like to do with them?”

The lady who had spoken before paused to think, then answered, “I’d place them on a table… in the sitting room, arranged with flowers as a centerpiece.”

“That sounds lovely. Do you already have flowers in mind to go with them?”

“Pink peonies! Big ones that would make guests gasp in admiration.”

“Just imagining it, your sitting room seems wonderful. I bet you’ve even decided on the tablecloth color already.”

The lady nodded, smiling as I stepped back to address the group.

“Today, the one giving us a gift might very well become our future spouse. Of course, we need to consider if they’re the right person for us, but I also think it’s worth asking ourselves: what kind of life do I envision sharing with them?”

“Oh…”

“And once you’ve pictured that life, why not turn it into a gift of your own? Write your hunter a letter describing that vision. Ask them if they think they could love it too.”

Several ladies’ eyes lit up with interest.

“If you haven’t already given them your gift, consider including the letter. It might be a way to find out if you’re truly compatible.”

“Wow, yes!”

“Of course, you could also keep it as a memento, a reflection of your own thoughts. So why not spend this sunny afternoon creating something memorable?”

I handed out paper to everyone and placed the pens and other writing tools in the center of the table within easy reach.

The ladies hesitated at first, holding their pens uncertainly. But soon, the soft scratching of pen against paper filled the air like a soothing ASMR soundtrack as they immersed themselves in their letters.

Some wrote, while others doodled or sketched.

Watching them, I allowed myself a small sigh of relief.

‘I think I managed to handle this situation.’

The scene reminded me of my days in the children’s reading room.

Most of the parents who visited the library were women in their 40s, primary caregivers deeply interested in their children’s reading education.

If we had designed programs for them, something like “Educational Workshops for Parents” might seem logical, but…

‘That would only make things more stressful.’

Parents would feel pressured to “learn properly for their kids’ sake,” while the instructors would feel the weight of judgment.

I just wanted everyone to be comfortable.

So, what we offered was a chance for them to express their own tastes.

“What did you enjoy reading as a student?”

At first, people hesitated, mentioning classics from school or bestsellers.

That’s when I’d throw in a popular romance novel.

“I loved this back in the day. Anyone else?”

People would nod, one by one, and then start opening up.

“I loved Julia Quinn.”
“I read Flowers in the Attic in secret, away from my mom.”
“The Silence of the Lambs was my favorite…”

People love talking about what they love.

And if you take it a step further, they want to share it with someone.

Now, the ladies were filling their papers with thoughts of the gifts they loved, imagining their future husbands and lovers.

Just an hour ago, their faces had been tight with tension, but now they were relaxed. Some even smiled—smiles so warm they made me happy just watching them.

Maria leaned closer and whispered, “You’re amazing, Doris. How did you come up with this?”

“I didn’t want us to go back to gossiping and sniping at each other. So, I thought hard about what to do.”

Think hard, act harder.

That’s what being a librarian was all about.

People often think librarians just lend books and organize shelves.

But we do everything—like employees at a small business.

We face performance pressure if lending numbers drop, plan events to attract visitors, hire speakers, prepare lectures, manage budgets, and even design promotional posters.

‘Though I wasn’t great at posters—I just slapped text on a white background.’

At least I don’t have to wrestle with illustration software anymore.

…That thought reminded me of something I still needed to do.

A letter. A gift.

‘Should I write Tristan a letter too?’

I couldn’t just hand him an embroidered handkerchief and call it a day.

A letter might be cliché, but it’s not like I could suddenly embroider a masterpiece or steal someone else’s gift for him.

‘This will have to do.’

I’ll just rely on some generic phrases…

But the moment I picked up the pen,

‘…What should I write?’

A wave of pressure hit me.