I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway
Chapter 130

Chapter 130: Chapter 130

"...Wait a moment."

Ah, ah. Voice check.

Thankfully, I sounded more or less normal.

"Sorry, I dropped it for a while. My gloves might get in the way, so I’ll see you lat— No, never mind."

...It was painfully obvious that I had rehearsed my words in my head and messed up saying them out loud.

While the palace official and Tristan were left speechless, only Maria still had faith in me.

"Dory, I’ll find it for you. You go ahead to His Highness. Just a sec—ugh!"

"No, it’s fine! I found it!"

To stop Maria from crawling under the desk as well, I hastily pretended I had just picked up my gloves. I stood up, holding them in my hand.

Of course, whether anyone besides Maria would believe me was another story.

As I kept my head down, pretending to carefully put on my gloves, Tristan spoke.

"What brings you to the palace?"

"I came with a friend who’s drafting a marriage permit."

"I see. Miss Maria seems to be learning about document preparation. In the meantime, could we talk for a moment?"

"Of course."

I succeeded in answering smoothly. Now, stay calm.

I’d already survived a moment more embarrassing than this—when I thought the library was empty and started singing, ’Now it’s—time for us—to part ways, will we ever meet agaaain—’, only to lock eyes with a kissing couple behind a bookshelf.

The memory sent a brief shudder through my heart, but thankfully, my face remained composed.

Tristan led me to a nearby terrace.

"Ahem. Well... this won’t take long. Would you like some tea?"

"No, I should check on my friend soon."

"I see... After the horse race, did you get home safely?"

"Yes. Thanks to all the good news that day, the mood in our carriage was cheerful the entire ride."

"I see... Are your parents well?"

This felt like a forced blind date arranged by distant relatives.

Should’ve just asked for tea.

After every sentence, Tristan kept lowering his head and reaching toward the table, as if searching for something to mask the awkwardness.

Tristan, are you really this nervous?

So that night after the horse race... it really wasn’t a dream.

For the fourth time, he reached for an imaginary teacup, only to clench his hands instead. Then, after taking a deep breath like he was about to say something important, he spoke.

"I was wondering how you’ve been. After the race, I had to leave suddenly for work, and we haven’t seen each other since."

"..."

The words Excuse me? almost slipped out.

Sir, you literally chased after me that night. You even confessed to my face. Are you seriously trying to pretend that never happened?

I get it, but still!

For the fifth time, Tristan reached for a nonexistent cup, then clasped his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He asked again, almost as if pleading.

"That’s right... isn’t it?"

"...Yes, it is. Did the issue with the injured horse get resolved?"

"Oh, of course!"

The moment I spoke, Tristan finally lifted his head.

That was when I realized—this was the first time since summoning me here that he had actually met my gaze.

His silver-blue eyes, usually filled with arrogance, flickered toward me... before retreating behind his lashes again.

It felt like we were playing hide-and-seek.

"Fortunately, neither horse suffered fractures, so they survived. The compensation was settled at a reasonable amount. Since it happened within the race rules, there was nothing we could do for those who lost their bets."

"A harsh lesson. I suppose that’s why one shouldn’t gamble too recklessly."

"...That’s right."

He seemed to have regained his composure, but every time he realized we were making eye contact, he turned his head slightly—like someone who had just been caught red-handed.

...Still, there was only one reason a man would keep looking at me despite his obvious discomfort.

Tristan, you...

"...I suppose I should let you return to your friend. By now, she’s probably gone from studying marriage permits to divorce settlements."

"I understand. Do you have anything else to say?"

"Asking about your well-being is enough. Ever since we parted at the racetrack, I’ve been wondering if... if anything had happened to you over the past week."

You’re emphasizing certain words quite a lot. But sure, let’s go with that.

We both rose from our seats. It was time to return to our respective spaces.

I handled that conversation better than I expected.

Not because of my exceptional composure, but because watching Tristan’s expressions left me no room to feel flustered.

"Well then, until next time."

I curtsied elegantly and waited for Tristan’s response.

But what I received was not just a simple farewell.

For a moment, as he accepted my curtsy, his usual arrogant mask returned—but then, as he leaned down toward my ear, his composure shattered.

Instead of a proper goodbye, his words spilled out, as if he had lost control.

"Dory. Next time, I’ll do it properly, so forget about last time—no, wait. No!"

"...Huh? Next time?"

"No, I mean—Forget what I just said too!"

Tristan’s entire face turned bright red.

He flailed his hands in panic while also trying to cover his face—failing at both.

His flustered state made me panic too, and I blurted out, "I-I didn’t hear anything! Really! I totally forgot!"

"No way... No, please, please forget it!"

"I swear! Yes, Your Highness and I just met! I forgot everything!"

"I’m not joking, I’m serious!"

"I’m serious too! Uh, so... how did the horse race go last time? What did you bet on?"

"I didn’t bet on anything! And you don’t have to forget that much!"

"But you told me to forget everything!"

Oh, divine spirit of the library, please save us from this mess, just like an abandoned book cart left untouched for a week.

Thankfully, before our voices could rise any further, a maid approached and asked, "You both seem thirsty. Shall I prepare some tea?"

"Aaaah! No! I was just about to leave!"

We were already rambling like fools—if tea was added to the equation, we’d just keep covering our faces and having this ridiculous conversation forever.

Tristan answered the same way.

"N-no, we don’t need tea. Dory, take care on your way back."

"Yes, goodbye—uh, I mean, farewell!"

With the maid watching us in confusion, I hurried away from the table.

This was more embarrassing than last Saturday night.

’I was worried I’d act like a fool when I met Tristan today...’

But I didn’t expect Tristan to be five times the fool instead.

Canceling his confession, then saying he’d do it properly next time, and so on—

Is that something a 23-year-old should be saying?

How childish!

Seriously... he was such an idiot. The way he spoke, how he kept looking at me, pretending to avoid my gaze only to glance back again—

Everything about him is so ridiculous, so dumb, so—

...Wait. No. No, no, no. This isn’t it.

’Oh no. My sanity must’ve gotten swept up and disappeared along with his.’

I needed to see something truly adorable to clear my mind.

Not far away, Maria looked up from her paperwork and beamed at me.

"Dory! Did you have fun?"

"Fun...? Uh, no. I mean, it was... interesting. Did you finish studying the documents?"

"Yup! It was really fun! I learned about annulment forms, divorce applications, adoption paperwork, how to draft a lawsuit, even writing a will—though I probably won’t need them."

...Just how long did I spend talking to Tristan?

"So now we can head back and meet the young duke?"

"No. Actually, Dory, you’re getting married soon too, right? There’s one more document left, and I wanted to go over it with you."

"What kind of document?"

"The wedding venue application!"

***

As Dory Redfield hurried away, Tristan watched her brown hair sway in the distance.

Inside his mind, two conflicting thoughts kept flashing back and forth:

I should just die.

I love her.

No, really, I should just die.

How can someone be so beautiful...?

Why am I even alive? Is there any point in wasting oxygen and food on a mouth that only spouts nonsense?

If a passing noble hadn’t greeted him just then, he might have stood there forever, torn between running after Dory and throwing himself out the nearest window.

But no—jumping out was n ot an option.

It would be a waste if I ever needed this potion.

Tristan clenched the mana-infused elixir he had received from the priest earlier.