I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway
Chapter 134

Chapter 134: Chapter 134

"Rick’s grandfather?"

The unfamiliar term brought the original story to mind for the first time in a while.

Only two of Rick’s blood relatives appear in the source material—his mother, who died young, and Count Braum, his father... though the term "nonflammable waste" seems more fitting for him.

Of course, they must have had parents of their own, even if they weren’t mentioned in the book.

’Who is this, then? Is he really family?’

I studied the old man’s face. Despite the deep wrinkles, his kind green eyes and broad shoulders unmistakably reminded me of Rick.

’He’s too young to be Count Braum’s father... Maybe he’s Rick’s maternal grandfather.’

Of course, while I was assessing the old man, he was also evaluating me. Then he spoke.

"You seem like a lady from a noble house. How did my grandson come to know someone like you?"

"Did you happen to meet Miss Maria earlier?"

"I did! My child told me she’s the daughter of the family that helped him."

"I’m Maria’s friend. While getting to know her, I also became acquainted with Rick."

"I owe Miss Maria a great deal, it seems! My grandson meeting such wonderful people... It must be the blessing his mother never got."

"Um... Might I ask—are you from the Blue Atrium? What brings you here...?"

Before I could even finish the question, tears welled up in the corners of the old man’s eyes.

"...I’m the one to blame."

No, sir. If I made you cry, then I’ve clearly done something wrong. My Confucian soul is screaming at me to bow my head immediately.

Regardless of my guilt, the old man began sharing a tale worthy of a five-episode human drama.

"It’s a long story... A long time ago, my daughter became pregnant out of wedlock. I said things no parent should say... and then she left home."

"..."

"Only now, far too late, have I learned whose child she bore and what became of him."

"Ah..."

"...There’s no point saying it now, I know. Think of me as a foolish old man trying to scoop up spilled water."

With hands as dry as twigs, he gently patted Rick’s leg. The care in that gesture alone tugged at something in my chest.

There was only one thing I could say.

"Have you eaten?"

"Ah, I had breakfast at an inn nearby."

"You’ve been here since morning? No wonder you look tired—please have something to eat."

"I ate a lot this morning. I’m fine."

There’s no way he’s fine!

Just his worn clothes were enough to guess the state of his finances.

Could he be short on money for food? How could I offer to pay without offending him?

While I debated what to do, the old man suddenly said something unexpected.

"The truth is, I’ve been waiting to meet the prince."

"The prince... Do you mean His Highness Tristan?"

"Yes. I heard my child was indebted to him. That he took in someone with nothing to his name and treated him like a capable worker."

"..."

"I was told he visits sometimes... Ah, please, don’t mind me. Focus on my grandson. He’s probably annoyed that his nosy grandfather is holding up his friend."

The old man ended with a joke. Smiling, I took my place beside Rick.

"Hello, Rick."

It’s been a while.

In the meantime, Tristan’s succession to the Blue Atrium has been confirmed.

It’s thanks to you, but I’m sure it’s not just good news in your eyes.

Arthur and Maria are preparing for marriage. They’ve already received their families’ blessings.

Maybe you heard it from them earlier?

’...Not a single piece of news is really cheerful, is it.’

But whatever I said wouldn’t have meant more than that old man’s presence.

Rick Ray, I hope you, too, can become a source of joy to him.

"Then, I’ll leave you two to talk."

"I feel like I just got you kicked out. I’m sorry. Take care, miss."

And just as I stepped into the hospital corridor—

Speak of the devil... A familiar face appeared on the other end.

It was Tristan.

"G...Good day, Your Highness."

Just yesterday, we’d exchanged awkward words like fools.

Thankfully, my greeting today came out sounding normal.

Tristan, on the other hand...

He flinched reflexively as if to run away, then forced himself back on course, suddenly squared his shoulders—

Only to kick over a mop bucket and panic.

I coolly turned toward the wall like someone who’d been admiring the corridor paintings for the past ten minutes.

Tristan, it’s okay! I didn’t see anything! Let’s pretend I haven’t even said your name yet!

"Dory. You came to see Rick?"

Thankfully, Tristan’s voice no longer trembled.

"Yes. I just greeted someone claiming to be Rick’s grandfather. Did you know?"

"I did. I got a report yesterday and allowed him in. I finally had time to speak with him myself."

"..."

What can you possibly say to the family of someone who sacrificed themselves for you?

Even words of thanks or apology would feel hollow.

Tristan probably doesn’t know the right answer either.

Still, I voiced the question he might not be able to ask himself.

"Forgive me for asking this, but... are we certain he’s really Rick’s family?"

"Dory..."

"You asked me once—if the blood relatives who abandoned him came seeking compensation, should we still call them family?"

"..."

"That man says he didn’t abandon Rick, but we still need to consider the possibility. Especially if we think about who might’ve told him the truth."

"...I know. Most likely, he tipped him off."

Rick’s birth father—Count Braum.

Well, the whole heir scheme using a bastard son has already failed, and Tristan gained public favor during the last campaign.

With everything over, Braum might have decided to show a bit of final grace.

For now, all we can do is trust Tristan’s judgment.

And as if reading my thoughts, he said—

"You won’t have to see any more disgraceful sides of me. I promise."

"Your Highness... I believe you."

"Then—"

Tristan started toward the hospital room, but suddenly turned back, as if something had just occurred to him.

"...Don’t read too much into the word ’anymore’, okay?"

"Of course! Your Highness has never been disgraceful at all, obviously."

"Th... Then, maybe next time—"

"Go ahead and visit him! I’ll take my leave now!"

Sensing the atmosphere turning into another round of awkward back-and-forth, I quickly bowed and backed away.

When I glanced back one last time, I saw Tristan with both hands over his face, staring at the wall like he wanted to knock on it with his forehead.

’What a fool... Aagh!’

But the moment I turned the corner of the hallway, my knees nearly gave out. I must’ve been more tense than I thought.

’When will this ever feel normal?’

Maybe I should just see him more often.

With a sigh, I stepped out of the hospital entrance—and that’s when a candy store across the shopping district caught my eye.

It might be awkward to treat that old man to a full meal, but offering him some sweets should be okay, right?

I told my maid to wait a bit longer, then went and bought some bread and cookies before heading back through the corridor.

’If this were the modern world, I’d grab some milk cartons, too.’

There was tea in the hospital room, right? I’ll bring some hot water and brew it for him.

I don’t completely trust the old man, but I get why Tristan let him in.

He looks so much like Rick, and he’s drowning in grief—how could anyone start with suspicion and interrogation?

Let him eat first. Think later.

When I got back to the private room, I hesitated at the door. Knocking with my hands full didn’t feel right, so I called out as I gently pushed it open with my body.

"Excuse me. Sir, I just brought you some—huh?"

Inside the room, an unexpected scene greeted me.

The old man was collapsed on the floor.

His bloodshot eyes were glaring up at the man pinning him down—Tristan.

Struggling, the old man shouted with fury,

"You sacrificed my grandson, didn’t you...! Neither I nor Layla will ever forgive you!"

"Hah, sounds like someone told you an interesting story. But if this is how you’re going to start, I won’t be able to keep things polite either."

"No need for talk! I’ve not long to live anyway! I’ll make sure you—!"

"...I’m sorry."

As the old man lunged to bite the arm holding him down, Tristan struck his jaw with an elbow.

The old man passed out without even a groan, and I nearly dropped the cookies I was holding. Somehow, I managed to catch them and close the door.

"Your Highness!"

"Dory... came back for a party, did you?"

"Don’t joke right now! Ha, I think I get what’s going on."

So this old man is Rick’s maternal grandfather. Probably came here after hearing 50% truth and 50% lies from the Count.

I helped lean the unconscious man against the wall and said,

"He attacked you? But even if you subdued him, did you really have to hit him...?"

My Confucian inner self wanted to scold him for striking an elder, but the moment I turned to look at Tristan, I fell silent.

Alarms went off in my head.

"Your Highness. Your Highness! You need to—"

But Tristan shook his head, as if he already knew what I was going to say.

"Don’t call a doctor... I want this handled as quietly as possible."

Then he reached for the handle of the dagger—

—that was sticking out of his own stomach.