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

"What's going on there?"

"Are you watching me to see if I'll kick the blanket off and leave?"

Tristan spoke just as I was debating whether to open my eyes or not.

"I've received the handkerchief you prepared. Don't worry about it anymore."

"What?"

My eyes shot wide open. How could I not worry about it!

"You received it? How?"

"I picked it up."

"...Wait, are you telling me you got hurt while looking for my gift?"

I startled and tried to sit up quickly, but upon seeing his finger near my forehead, I buried my head back into the pillow.

Tristan shook his head.

"No."

"Really?"

"What do you think I am? If I got hurt because of you, I would have made you take responsibility no matter what."

Ah, yes.

As if he had said all he needed, Tristan moved away from the bed. However, even though he moved away, we were still in the same room. The only thing between us was an empty bed.

Without showing any expression, Tristan spoke.

"However, the letter was unreadable. The ink smeared."

"You... you found the letter too?"

"It was next to the handkerchief."

A wave of embarrassment and relief hit me at once.

I had written the letter when I was with the ladies, so it seemed fine then, but now that I was out of that context, I felt so embarrassed!

Though I had filled it with nothing but polite words, at least it was unreadable, so I felt relieved...

"You can take your time to write it again."

"...What?"

I was so surprised that I sprang up from the bed.

"Are you saying you want me to write the letter again?"

"You understood that perfectly, so why ask again?"

"But that was a letter for the hunting tournament. If I write it again, the tournament will already be over..."

"It doesn't matter."

I paused for a moment and asked.

"Do you really want me to send you a letter like that?"

"Of course not."

Tristan declared firmly.

"Though, it does seem very much like something you would do. Who would think to write a letter during a hunting tournament? You must feel anxious and desperate, like a woman sending her husband off to battle."

Was that a compliment or an insult?

Well, it's not like I can't write it again, but it would be a bit embarrassing...

"If you don't want to, you could just tell me what you want to say right now..."

"I've forgotten everything!"@@novelbin@@

"I was expecting to hear a more refined story."

"Ha..."

Why did I dig my own grave?

If I had just given him the handkerchief without overthinking it, our future wouldn't have changed!

What is he expecting from me?

'What should I write in the new letter?'

As I quietly thought about what to write, Tristan stopped bothering me.

"I'll turn off the light."

Tristan quietly blew out the candle, extinguishing the flame with his finger.

All that remained was the lantern hanging at the entrance to the infirmary. Between the lantern and us hung a thick curtain, so even if I opened my eyes, I could only see a silhouette.

Screech...

It seemed Tristan had lain down on his bed.

I thought he might scold me for being awake, but he said nothing.

‘...’

Instead of his voice, I could only hear his breathing. Slow, irregular, and deep.

‘Is something wrong with him?’

His breathing sounded like he was struggling.

Should I ask if he's okay?

No, if I do that, we'll just end up bickering again, both of us raising our blood pressure.

‘Foolish Tristan.’

Why did he even go looking for my gift? It really wasn't a big deal.

‘...I’m the real fool, though.’

I should have thought about my gift earlier. If I had, I wouldn't have had to write that embarrassing letter, and Tristan wouldn't have gone through all that trouble.

‘But... did Tristan really get hurt looking for my gift?’

In the original story, Arthur goes out on a night hunt to break his nose, and returns covered in dirt in the early morning.

If he slipped while searching, it wouldn't be that strange...

My emotions immediately said, "That's not it," and my rational thoughts followed behind them.

Tristan had come in earlier, after working. Wasn't he supposed to have been out for a night hunt at that time?

What had he been doing?

While I was pondering alone, I suddenly felt Tristan's breathing become steady.

Is he asleep?

I carefully turned my head, feeling like a spy.

His silhouette was illuminated by the faint light from outside the window. I could tell he had his eyes closed from the way his lashes gleamed.

Why does even his silhouette look handsome?

The more annoying part was that he was fully aware of how attractive his face was.

‘If he were a Roman emperor, he would have minted commemorative coins with his profile every year.’

If I were him, I’d probably curse but still keep a few stashed away.

I had these ridiculous thoughts as I slowly sat up. I pushed the blanket off and walked to the edge of the bed. Tristan was still lying there, and his breathing remained steady.

‘He's sleeping.’

Now's my chance.

I’d been lying here too long with this injury.

‘What if my sister finds out I had to stay in the royal infirmary? I can’t let her know about this.’

I needed to make an impression at the banquet soon.

I hurried, but when I stopped, I was standing not at the infirmary's door, but at Tristan’s bed.

I stood there silently, looking down at him.

When I finally stepped out of the backlight, I could see his face clearly. The strength I had felt earlier in his silhouette seemed to fade.

‘He still looks strong... but also exhausted.’

He looked like someone who had worked all day and was finally getting a break due to an injury.

If he had been hunting all day, he'd be exhausted. But the expression of someone who has been tired from playing and the one who’s tired from work is completely different.

‘He looks like those librarians taking a break after working through the annual book reorganizing at the library.’

Every year, the library disposes of outdated books and reorders new ones. It sounds simple, but it's full of heavy lifting, organizing, registering data, and checking inventory... a perfect collaboration of physical and mental labor.

That’s what it looks like when people take a quick break from working...

"Look at this. Even while sleeping, his brow is furrowed."

It's the trace of unfinished worries.

"Tristan. You lived the way you wanted in the original story. But why do you seem so troubled in front of me?"

What kind of person are you?

My curiosity grows.

I thought I preferred a man who could reflect on things over someone mindless, but now that I realize you're actually quite thoughtful...

I want to pat your head.

Just as that thought crossed my mind.

The strand of hair behind his ear fell, and I realized I had unconsciously leaned closer to Tristan—

Almost at the same time.

Tristan's eyes shot open.

"I don't know what you're watching, but is it interesting?"

"Ah!"

I jumped back in surprise. I couldn't run far because my back hit the infirmary screen.

In the meantime, Tristan clicked his tongue and propped himself up.

"Is it amusing to watch someone in such a vulnerable state?"

"It's not like that! It's not interesting at all!"

"You've been staring at me for quite a while for something that’s not interesting."

"Ah, no! How long have you been awake?"

"Since the beginning."

"...What?"

"I thought one of us should stay awake since there’s no doctor."

"..."

"Well, if you're bored, you can leave first. I thought it was about time you were getting hungry."

Why does he always speak so smoothly, then end it like this?!

I couldn't argue with him, though.

I was hungry.

I quickly stepped away from the bed, worried my stomach might growl.

"I-I’m really fine now, so I’ll leave. I'll ask the maid to bring you something to eat, Your Highness."

"Alright. But..."

I could already guess what he would say, so I tried to leave quickly.

But his question came faster than I could leave.

"Why were you staring at my face earlier?"

"..."

"You looked like you were studying a fever patient. Even though the injury is on my shoulder."

"Well, that's..."

I had no excuse.

I didn't even know the reason myself!

Tristan's breathing had been calm. I should have just left the infirmary without overthinking.

There was no need to stand there, pondering by myself.

"I, I..."

My face heated up.

I can't let this happen! I have to come up with an excuse! The longer I hesitate, the stranger it gets!

This is the worst.

If I’m not mistaken, during this uncomfortable silence, Tristan’s face seemed to show some embarrassment.

"Doris, answer me."

"Well... uh..."

In this awkward moment, it wasn't me who spoke first.

It was Tristan.

With one side of his lip curling up as usual, the usual rude words flowed out.

"Is this some sort of sleep habit?"

"What?"

"Since you can't explain it logically, I thought maybe it's a sleep habit."

"That’s not—"

"It seems like this habit is unknown in the bedroom, but even the most graceful lady in the social circles has bad habits. Anyone would be surprised to hear that."

Each word he spoke dripped with annoyance.

Seeing you act like yourself feels oddly refreshing!

What kind of a big deal does he think this bad habit is, talking like he found a weakness?

I couldn't help but raise my voice.

"Don't worry. From now on, the only person who will learn about this habit in the bedroom will be you, Your Highness!"

...I expected laughter to follow after I said that.

Tristan doesn’t know we’re getting married.

But to my surprise, he was quiet.

He wasn’t ignoring me. His eyes, wider than ever, were trembling helplessly in my direction.

His mouth was open, but he couldn't close it.

Sorry. I know I said something a bit inappropriate.

"...Well, I’ll go tell the maid to bring something for you to eat!"

I added the excuse and rushed out of the infirmary.

Ah, damn it!

I had been telling everyone else nonstop, "I’m going to marry the prince."

But why is it so embarrassing to say it directly to him?