I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway
Chapter 129

Chapter 129: Chapter 129

I heard there was an uninvited guest lingering around the building. If they get caught even once, they shut down to prevent the authorities from investigating illegal salons later.

My heart dropped at the very first answer. Security must be crucial for a business that thrives on information trade. But the words "if they get caught once" led to an ominous thought. The next reply followed.

The documents are kept in a safe place, and once a new location is found, they’ll be moved there to resume operations. Don’t worry about the information.

Now, the final question. When will it open again?

The maid answered without much hesitation.

Until they find the next location, no one knows.

"...Ha."

"This is something that can’t be helped."

That made sense.

They needed a property that was both spacious and accessible, yet exclusive enough to keep unwanted guests out.

Like a hot iced Americano.

I added another question to my note.

Can’t I buy information directly from Madame? Does it have to be on salon days?

Is it information I wouldn’t be able to help with?

Most likely.

Aside from when you receive an invitation, I can’t connect you with Madame Abigail.

Then knowing who Madame Abigail is would be even more impossible.

"I see. So, clotted cream pairs best with raspberry jam?"

"Yes, exactly. Should I prepare it for your afternoon snack?"

"Yeah. Two scones and a café au lait!"

After clearing my head with a small decision, I prioritized my next steps.

For now, I’d wait for Madame Abigail’s next announcement. If no good news came this week—

’I’ll have to hire someone.’

There should be agencies here, like the errand services back home, that specialize in finding people. It’ll cost money, but I have no choice.

’Or I could try to find Madame Abigail myself.’

But I still didn’t know her identity.

The only clues I had were that she was around 160 cm tall and had a voice that sounded like she was in her forties.

’If I just cast a net at any banquet, I’d catch three women matching that description in one go!’

Besides, the salon’s music slightly distorts voices. And what if she wears insoles to boost her height?

...But it wasn’t entirely hopeless.

’I have other clues to narrow things down.’

I just needed to take it slow and make sure she had no room to escape.

After the horse racing season ended, high society shifted toward tying up loose ends.

Rather than forming new connections, people reminisced about the year’s memories with close acquaintances and used this time to clear up misunderstandings before the season ended.

’In short, people are throwing parties.’

Not exactly my scene.

Thankfully, one of my few friends shared my sentiments.

"It’s been a while since I’ve had such a peaceful time."

Maria smiled gently, sipping her tea.

"A while? I thought Baroness Meyer didn’t mind hosting parties."

"She just dislikes hosting them herself. But she accepts every invitation and insists on bringing me along. I know she means well, but it gets exhausting."

"Don’t people ask you annoying questions at those parties?"

"...Honestly? Yeah."

Maria nodded, looking a little drained.

"I get rude questions like whether Arthur really acknowledged His Highness. Some people even ask me to help them get closer to you. I refused all of them, but the topics were really uncomfortable."

If they want to befriend me, they should at least bring some pastries to my house instead of bothering her.

Fortunately, I had a topic that would make Maria smile.

"How are things going with Lord Arthur? All the way to the ’end’?"

"...Yes."

Like tea leaves steeping in warm water, a slow, radiant joy spread across Maria’s face.

"My father finally gave his approval. The Duke said, ’I will trust my son’s choice.’ I don’t think he was happy about it, but... Arthur said he’d earn his blessing, no matter how many years it takes."

"..."

"I believe in Arthur. And I believe we can ensure that no one else in Frosthill suffers the same fate as my mother."

Right.

Long ago, Maria’s mother was killed by a beast in Frosthill, which fueled the long-standing feud between their families.

This couple wasn’t just overcoming their personal misfortunes; they were taking steps to change things for the better.

Maria gave a bashful smile and said,

"So, Dory... do you have some time? It’s about the wedding preparations."

"Time? Yeah, plenty! Even today works!"

"Good. I need to go to the palace to get my marriage permit."

"..."

The palace.

My brain shut down the moment I heard that word. The prince lives there.

"Dory? Are you uncomfortable?"

"N-No! The palace is great! I’ll call for a carriage. And I’ll stick right by your side the whole time!"

"There’s no need for that. In fact, you look like you’d rather have me sticking to you instead. Are you okay?"

"I’m fine!"

Actually, not really!

How was I supposed to look at Tristan?

No—stay calm. Tristan asked me to forget about that night. Let’s just pretend nothing happened between us. Reality won’t change anyway!

The carriage the maid called passed through the palace gates.

Thankfully, as soon as we entered, the unfamiliar administrative process pushed all my unnecessary worries out of my mind.

A palace official asked, "In which year did you participate in the debutante? Your name and family?"

"This year, under the name of Baron Meyer’s family. I am Maria Meyer."

"One moment... Ah, found it. Fill out this form, and we will submit it to Her Majesty the Queen. The permit will be sent to your residence later."

"...Is there a chance the permit could be denied?"

Maria asked anxiously, and the official hesitated before answering.

"My Lady, do you not have a chaperone in your family?"

"...No."

"I see. Unless you’ve made a scandalous name for yourself in society during your debutante year, it won’t be denied. Or, more accurately, there would be no reason for Her Majesty to even remember your name."

So they don’t even bother reading the documents before approving them. Well, it’s not like a queen would personally review every marriage application. As with any bureaucracy, the final approver is just a figurehead, and the real responsibility falls on the ones drafting the papers.

The official lowered their voice.

"Technically, you’re supposed to learn these things through family connections... So don’t mention what I told you."

"Thank you so much! By the way, are there any fields that aren’t mandatory? My mother passed away long ago, so I can’t complete the ’maternal lineage up to three generations’ section."

"Hah... This form has been around for a hundred years. It seriously needs updating... Have a seat for now."

Turns out, paperwork runs on improvisation everywhere. People really are the same no matter where you go. I smothered a wry smile at the familiar inefficiency.

The palace wasn’t just a royal residence—it was a massive administrative body. Outside the private royal quarters, a variety of people came and went. Most were nobles or wealthy businessmen, their clothes polished and pristine.

That’s why my attention was drawn to a man in modest attire. He looked slightly older—likely a middle-aged priest. He was walking slowly through the hallway, conversing with someone.

"This is only for emergencies. I hope you never have to use it."

"Yes, thank you—huh?"

"...Your Highness?"

The priest looked startled. But not as much as I was. Because the person he was speaking with was none other than Tristan.

It’s fine. I knew there was a chance we’d run into each other! Just stick to the plan—act normal!

"The required fields on the form are... Uh, my lady? You can’t hide behind the desk."

I mumbled back, "I dropped my glove."

"...Pardon?"

"I’ll take my time picking it up. Don’t mind me."

"I would appreciate it if you could pick it up quickly... Ah. Your Highness!"

Damn it.

Thud, thud, thud—those approaching footsteps were definitely his.

Not the sound of my own heartbeat, right?

Then, a familiar voice called from behind me.

"Dory Redfield. Can we talk for a moment?"