I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway
Chapter 132

Chapter 132: Chapter 132

Instead of denying it outright, she searched for flaws in the argument to find a way out. That very attitude was proof that she was, in fact, the person in question.

Even as I thought that, I answered steadily.

"The only women who can command the royal maids are Her Majesty the Queen, Her Highness the Crown Princess, and the head maid... Considering that royal palace maids aren’t allowed to have secondary jobs, the only person who could confidently order them to work in a salon’s kitchen must be a member of the royal family."

"..."

"Also, the owner of the salon asserted her authority by claiming she would grant a wish related to social connections once a year."

"Granting wishes—that’s something only the Queen could do, isn’t it?"

"The key point is that she does it while wearing a mask, even though she could do it without one. That’s why I concluded that Madame Abigail has enough influence, yet cannot openly wield it."

"..."

"But what stood out to me the most was what happened after the Sacred Salon was shut down. How did they acquire an abandoned chapel—an easily accessible place that no one approached? Then today, I recalled something from last July’s charity event."

The Crown Princess and I had met by chance in the royal library. Back then, she had mentioned preparing an integrated event involving the central church council and various regional women’s associations.

She had said it was her first time handling such a task, but that was merely a way to describe the event. Since communication with the church was originally part of her duties, she must have naturally taken it on.

"Since Her Highness was responsible for negotiations with the church, finding a suitable abandoned chapel would’ve been easy. I suspect there was a minor deal with the central church council regarding its use. If Prince Percival could manage such matters, surely Your Highness could as well."

"..."

"The person who secured the abandoned chapel, easily gathered information on high society, and occasionally mobilized royal maids as workers— Isn’t Madame Abigail none other than Her Highness the Crown Princess?"

With a soft thud, she placed her pen down.

A faint anger crept into her voice as she lowered her head slightly.

"How dare you."

"..."

"I have worked tirelessly as the Crown Prince’s wife, and yet you think I would become a mere salon operator?"

"It is not mere at all."

"...What?"

"A salon isn’t complete just by gathering talented individuals in food, music, and other fields—especially when all of them have primary occupations elsewhere. Yet, Madame Abigail led them all and created an unprecedented salon."

"..."

"Even if I were mistaken about the owner’s identity, that fact remains unchanged. I say this with confidence as a member of the salon."

"Ha..."

With a sigh, the Crown Princess slowly lifted her head. I did not avert my gaze.

Finally, as our eyes met—

She smiled.

Then she burst into laughter.

"Ahahaha!"

"..."

"Oh, I knew you were an interesting lady, but I didn’t expect you to dig this deep."

"Your Highness... That means—"

"Yes. Your deductions are correct. I have been maintaining the salon under the name of Madame Abigail."

For the first time, the exhaustion in her bureaucratic gaze gave way to a glimmer of life.

"However, one correction—I never made a deal with the central church council regarding the chapel. That building was donated to the council 135 years ago by the royal family as an expression of gratitude when the First Princess recovered from an illness. It was used as a commemorative chapel but later fell into disuse due to disputes over repair costs...."

In short, ’We used a neglected, administrative loophole of a building without wasting any money.’

...But I’m not here to conduct an audit.

The Crown Princess then addressed another matter I had been curious about.

"At Saturday’s horse race, my husband’s horse won. I had planned to commend the jockey and stable staff in the afternoon before heading to the salon in the evening... But His Majesty came to personally congratulate us, and we were detained."

"That’s unfortunate..."

"On our way out later, I noticed someone who couldn’t possibly fail to recognize me wandering near the salon."

"Prince Tristan, I assume."

"Yes. Fortunately, the staff redirected him before we encountered each other. To be cautious, we also relocated our records and Lady Witch to a secure location. However, I cannot confirm when we will reopen."

"Is it due to the venue?"

"Yes. Even if we forgo kitchen facilities and serve only straight whiskey and jerky, we still need a properly equipped space for voice modulation."

"Ah..."

"We are searching diligently. I will make an announcement as soon as possible."

It was an expected answer, yet still disappointing. I swallowed my sigh. I didn’t come all this way just to leave empty-handed.

"Your Highness, may I ask about the information we intended to trade? Have you gathered it?"

"You mean his weakness? Salon transactions are meant to take place within the salon, but considering how far you’ve come, I can offer some flexibility."

"No, actually... I happened to discover something about his past that could serve as a weakness.

Your Highness must already know at least part of it—the reason Prince Percival’s engagement was broken. The Ariel Rabbit scandal."

As expected, the Crown Princess was not surprised.

She simply nodded lightly.

I began recounting what I had uncovered.

Percival had always been the same— especially when it came to romance. He had no interest in marriage, only in fleeting affairs with beautiful singers.

But two years ago, a woman named Ariel Rabbit wasn’t content with just an affair. She demanded marriage.

"Some might call it an unreasonable demand... But at the time, Percival allegedly threatened the theater owner and insulted its patrons just to keep her. For Ariel, whose career was ruined, it was likely her only remaining option. I doubt she actually wanted marriage."

It was basic negotiation strategy— Ask for something outrageous first. Even if it’s rejected, your next, more reasonable request is more likely to be granted.

Whether it’s a re-debut or just receiving a small house.

"You found out well. How did you investigate?"

"I know someone in the theater."

"An unexpected connection. A friend of yours?"

"...Yes."

No, an enemy.

The person who gave me the information was Pearl Snow—the woman I owed, in a way, from the charity performance.

Back in August, something about the name Ariel Rabbit had stuck with me when I heard it at the convent. The surname especially wasn’t ordinary.

’Just like Pearl Snow.’

I suspected it was a stage name designed to be memorable. The claims that she had a good voice and didn’t seem like a noblewoman further supported my theory that she was a singer.

So, after returning from my vacation, I gathered testimonies in the theater district with my maid.

Pearl knew about Ariel. Even about her demand for marriage from Percival.

"I heard she was planning to stay hidden from His Majesty’s scrutiny for a while, then return as his mistress."

"But that never happened, and the once-promising singer lost contact with everyone, didn’t she?"

"..."

"On the day of the charity performance, I essentially saved you, Pearl. I separated you two before you ended up like your old colleague."

"I would never have foolishly demanded marriage like Ariel!"

"Before power, intelligence and foolishness mean nothing. You know that."

"..."

"I’ll come to see your performance someday, Pearl Snow."

And so, I connected the events in the theater district to those at the convent.

"Two years ago, Prince Percival confined the woman who demanded marriage in a convent before sending her somewhere else. Earlier this year, the noble family in talks for his engagement must have learned of this scandal and backed out."

"You’ve gathered quite the information. You didn’t just come to boast about it, did you?"

"Of course not. I’m here to buy new information. Please find Ariel Rabbit’s current whereabouts."

"What?"

"Your Highness, with your connections to local churches and noblewomen, I’m sure you can find out where she is. Please."

"That’s an unreasonable request! Even if the Sacred Salon were active, we only deal with figures in high society."

That was the expected answer. Now, I would move beyond expectations.

"Your Highness, how much did you know about Prince Percival’s scandal and engagement?"

"...Only that she was sent to the convent with her consent. I only learned of her disappearance after you asked about his weaknesses."

"Did you ever consider making this public? For a woman who never even had the right to choose?"

The Crown Princess shook her head.

"This was information I learned through Salon business. A broker must never let emotions interfere with information. Just as a banker must not get emotional over money."

"So, like money, information must be treated solely as a tool?"

"Yes."

"Then, was Your Highness also just a tool? A broker who merely dispenses information when paid?"

"...What?"

Her face showed shock first, then slowly, anger. But I didn’t stop.

"You know that’s not true. You created a space where people of all statuses could converse, where those with keen judgment and luck could obtain information even without wealth."

"..."

"Whether it’s sympathy for Ariel Rabbit, anger toward him, or curiosity about me—if anything has ever stirred your heart, then please grant me this information. I will use that spark to set things in motion."