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

After everything I’d been through, the reason I left the Earl’s tent early was simple.

Before the ball, I had to find Tristan and give him the handkerchief and the letter.

But when I reached into the pocket of my dress…

… I realized I was doomed.

The pocket was empty.

All I could feel was a bit of damp earth.

‘I must’ve dropped it while making a scene earlier.’

I don’t know how many times I’ve said this, but once something’s meant to go wrong, it does.

Ha ha ha ha.

Now, even laughter escapes me.

Tristan, reading my expression, lifted one corner of his mouth. It was that smile everyone called a sneer.

“Did you lose it?”

“… I’m sorry. I was sure I’d put it in safely, but—”

“No need for excuses. We’ve never exchanged anything at a competition, after all. No need for this to be any different.”

“Well… that’s true…”

You didn’t expect something from me, did you?

You were the one who was shaking a carrot in front of me just hours ago.

All I had prepared were the handkerchief and hastily written letter, but I still wanted to satisfy your expectations, even if just a little…

I’ve never seen you genuinely want something before.

That’s when Tristan asked.

“How impressive a gift was it that you look so regretful?”

“Huh? W-was I looking regretful?”

“That’s how it appeared to me.”

“Hmm… It’s unfortunate that I’ve become a liar in front of you, but… the gift wasn’t anything special.”

“What was it?”

“It was just a plain white silk handkerchief. I thought about picking something prettier, but…”

“You thought about it?”

“... I didn’t trust my taste.”

It had always been like this. If I chose something I thought was pretty and showed it to my friends, they would say, “Did your grandmother give that to you?”

If I had kept trying and making mistakes, would my taste have gotten better?

But with my allowance being tight, I couldn’t afford to make mistakes. So I always went for the safe options—neutral tones, basic designs.

And that habit still stuck with me.

Tristan, who had never dealt with such concerns, replied:

“If it’s something you picked, I don’t care what it is, so just choose whatever you feel like when giving me a gift.”

“Huh…?”

“I’ll look good in anything.”

Ugh, how obnoxious!

But I can’t deny it.

Even now, when I looked at handsome Tristan, I could still see traces of the muddy dirt from his work scattered across his clothes and hair. At first glance, it looked like glitter.

Such is the unfairness of the world.

Tristan, this time, wasn’t sneering—he was actually smiling.

“I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood.”

That’s when I realized my lips had curled upward.

What, is something good happening to make me smile?

I hurriedly tried to recover my usual composed, model-student expression while Tristan stood up.

“Where are you going, Your Highness?”

“Why? Do you want me to stay by your side until you fall asleep?”

“No, it’s not that!”

“If you don’t like the idea of sleeping, I can stay up with you.”

“... Please don’t joke like that.”

Don’t make jokes like that. Especially not to me.

Was he thinking of another one to rile me up?

Tristan hesitated for a moment, then unexpectedly said something plain.

“Rest easy. I’ll be back after I deliver the patrol report.”

“Yes… oh, wait!”

As Tristan was about to leave the infirmary tent, he suddenly turned around.

“What is it?”

“Please be careful on your way, Your Highness!”

“Ha. Was that really something important to say?”

“It is important!”

“Alright, I get it. You probably don’t want to imagine me lying next to you.”

“Let’s just say that’s true.”

Seemingly satisfied with the exchange, Tristan chuckled before leaving the tent.

Before he walked out, though, he gave his chest a quick tap with his fist.@@novelbin@@

***

Tristan remembered the thrill he felt when he drew his bowstring.

The exhilaration of overpowering the bow with the strength of an ox and releasing the perfectly aimed arrow was unmatched by any other pastime.

From the moment his younger brother shouted, “Go forward!” his blood boiled under his neat uniform.

His muscles twitched. Let’s hunt. Let’s pile up the game in front of the fiancée who seemed bored by everything. Then, what kind of expression would Doris make?

If Tristan were to win the hunting competition today, his driving force would undoubtedly be the anticipation of her reaction when she saw the game he had caught.

But after hearing the news about Count Redfield stepping in his hunting dog’s excrement and tumbling down a hill…

Before the opening ceremony, the words his fiancée had spoken dominated Tristan’s mind.

‘The path is too rough. I’m worried you might get hurt, Your Highness.’

Doris was a woman who hardly ever wanted anything. For her to emphasize, “Please come back safe,” made Tristan feel the weight of responsibility. If he were to get caught up in some fool’s accident…

That could never happen.

Calming his boiling muscles, Tristan gathered the workers, servants, and foremen assigned to the hunt and ordered:

“Check the slope of the hunting grounds, where the water hasn’t fully drained, and reinforce it to prevent it from collapsing.”

The workers were initially flustered by the prince’s change of mind, as just yesterday, he’d said, “The thrill of hunting lies in running down a slippery path.” But once the promise of additional pay was made, they all eagerly took up their shovels as if they were professional safety officers.

… Well, not everyone.

A worker with brown hair was visibly uneasy. He even asked the foreman if he could avoid the extra pay.

Surprisingly, it was someone he knew.

‘Rick Ray. He’s that attendant from Baron Meyer’s house I saw last time.’

But there could be no exceptions.

When Tristan approached, Rick, who had been asking if he could leave without the bonus, was startled but quickly grabbed a shovel and turned away. It seemed he hadn’t expected the prince to personally give orders.

The foreman boasted confidently.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness! I’ll make sure not a single worker escapes under my command!”

Tristan returned to the hunting grounds but didn’t completely let go of the reins. It was important to listen to the hunters’ opinions to ensure the event went smoothly.

‘This isn’t so bad, after all.’

Well, honestly, it wasn’t as fun as hunting.

Watching people who couldn’t handle their bowstrings and ended up injuring themselves irritated him.

To think that high-quality arrows were being wasted in their hands!

His friend, Alex, whom he met on a hill, was proudly celebrating after catching a rabbit. The rabbit, still alive, was thrashing around.

Tristan furrowed his brow.

“You look so pleased. Do you think there’s a lady who would be delighted to receive that, as though it were a deer?”

“Giving a great gift is for beginners. A smart man makes a woman happy with even the smallest things.”

Tristan thought, ‘Does he really mean that kind of lowly talk?’

He almost retorted but stopped himself.

The servants were breathing heavily, likely exhausted from chasing the rabbit. It was better to let them rest before something worse happened.

“If you’re satisfied with the hunt, register the game at headquarters and take a rest. I’m leaving.”

“Tristan, stop pretending to be so diligent and catch at least a squirrel for your fiancée’s sake!”

Tristan ignored the sarcastic voice and decided he wasn’t going back to his hunting role anytime soon.

After years of competing in hunting tournaments, and finding it surprisingly fun to oversee and monitor the event…

‘I don’t want to present something to a lady when I haven’t received anything myself.’

Even if it felt childish.

Doris, being a principled and polite person, would have prepared at least a handkerchief, but there was nothing.

‘I’ve been waiting through all the hunting tournaments for nothing because of her…’

He often found himself absentmindedly stroking the hairpin he had taken from her, though it was not enough to quell his sense of emptiness.

An urge to touch her hair crept up.

… He was almost about to throw the hairpin when he thought to himself:

‘What am I even thinking?’

What would he do with it?

Her hair would probably smell nice if he ran his hand through it—soft, like freshly picked pebbles by a stream. And her face, so soft, would likely carry the smell of soap. Not a woman who knew much about perfumes, she would suit such a scent. What if it mixed with the black orchid and cardamom from the perfume Tristan sometimes wore…?

To push the vivid imagination away, Tristan caught the workers who were just finishing their work.

“Finished early?”

“Oh, Your Highness! We’re just finishing up on the northern trail. Especially Rick, who’s been working hard…”

“Check the west side too.”

“Huh? Ah, yes!”

Rick, who looked almost like he was about to cry, got back to work.

Tristan didn’t care.

This was the fifth year Tristan had participated in the hunting competition.

Though it was the first time he hadn’t caught even a single squirrel, Tristan felt better than the year he hunted a lone wolf.

‘I can enjoy myself without hunting after all.’

Thanks to continuous monitoring, the infirmary was quieter than usual, and there was hardly any fighting among the noble youths.

According to the head maid—though probably not due to Tristan’s influence—the young ladies participating for the first time had a good atmosphere.

Of course, he would have to hunt at least once.

For his fiancée.

Since he started later than the others, he had to win by quality over quantity.

What should he hunt if he could only catch one?

A deer? A roe deer?

‘There were only three wolves released. It’d be nice if the alpha is still around…’

He was confident he could catch it.

There was just one obstacle before the hunt began.

He still hadn’t received his fiancée’s gift.

Tristan wasn’t the kind of man who would go out without receiving anything.

‘She’ll definitely give it to me.’

There’s no way she wouldn’t.

‘I’m a generous man. Even if it’s something small, I should offer something in return. …I’ll get the chance, right? I should, right?’

But when he finished his last patrol before the banquet and returned to the tent…

“Your Highness?”

The sight of his fiancée, covered in mud, shattered all of Tristan’s imaginations.