I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway
Chapter 135

Chapter 135: Chapter 135

"What do you mean, solve it quietly?! Can we even pull that dagger out?"

"Not right away. Dory... do you want to help me?"

"Of course I do!"

There was no hesitation. I quickly shoved the old man under the bed and rushed to Tristan.

This way, even if the old man regained consciousness, he’d smack his head trying to get up—he wouldn’t be able to move immediately.

"Dory. While I pull out the blade... press the wound with a clean sheet. Not too hard."

"Got it!"

I pulled out a fresh sheet from the drawer and pressed it over the wound.

As soon as I applied weight, Tristan yanked the dagger out.

"Ugh...!"

He told me not to press too hard, but that was easier said than done.

Even before I applied proper pressure, my fingers were already soaked in blood.

’That’s a lot of bleeding...’

Damn, should I press harder?

As I hesitated, trying to be gentle, Tristan covered my hands with his own. His hand was cold, like clay.

"Your Highness?"

"I’ll apply the pressure... Go get a needle and thread from the medical trolley. And matches—they’re by the fireplace."

"What? Don’t tell me... Your Highness!"

"I’ve said before—I’m more experienced with emergency care."

"I know. But this is a hospital!"

Even as we spoke, my fingers kept getting wetter with blood. And Tristan’s hand—growing weaker by the second—was making me nervous.

Honestly, all I had to do was shout.

A doctor would rush in, lay him on the bed, stop the bleeding, stitch the wound. A perfectly rational, normal choice.

But I hesitated...

And he looked at me with certainty.

"You’re... trusting my choice, right?"

"Didn’t you say you’d never show me such a pathetic side again?"

"..."

"Yeah, well... Let’s take back the ’never.’"

As I stood up, the smell of blood hit me stronger than ever. Suppressing the urge to bolt out the door, I fetched everything he asked for.

"Thank you... Now, close your eyes for a bit."

"No. If you need anything, just say so. I can at least help stop the bleeding."

"...Dory."

"I’m no expert in first aid—but I do know an injured person can’t do it alone."

Thankfully, Tristan didn’t let pride get in the way. He handed me the task of pressing the wound and began threading the needle.

Then, as he stitched, he muttered something cryptic:

"Dory. Your choice will never be wrong. Even that old man’s choice... maybe not."

"Huh?"

I didn’t fully understand what he meant—

Until about an hour later.

The old man, who had been knocked out by a blow to the jaw, stirred and let out a groan as he slowly opened his eyes.

Seeing Tristan standing safe and sound, flanked by guards, the old man bared his teeth again.

"You...! You’re alive?!"

The guards raised their swords at the attempted regicide.

But the old man seemed utterly unfazed by the blade at his throat.

"You wanted the Blue Atrium that badly? You knew he was the lord’s son!"

"..."

"He lived his whole life upright, never even held onto anything properly! Were you so afraid someone like him would tarnish your perfect life? Huh?"

"Not at all. As you once said yourself, I thought he’d be a capable worker. That’s why I brought him."

"Lies... You planned to sacrifice him from the start!"

"..."

"Your men told me! You shoved him in front of a monster! Then you told others he died nobly, like a loyal subordinate!"

Ah... Count Braum made his move.

Or rather, he didn’t "make a move"—he just flung blood over someone else’s feast.

’He made the Blue Atrium workers lie under oath.’

No matter what I said, the old man wasn’t going to listen.

Even with a sword at his throat, he refused to back down. Tristan spoke again.

"I don’t know why he chose to protect me. But one thing I can say for sure: in battle, I never sacrifice anyone."

"Empty words... Just kill me. Better to die now than to live long enough to see my grandson die before me!"

"..."

"The doctor already said... that kid’s never waking up again...!"

Every wrinkle on the old man’s face seemed to fold at once. Tears fell from him like blood squeezed from a wound.

What kind of regret must be bottled up in someone who never even saw his grandson’s face—someone mourning both his daughter and what could’ve been?

It’s not something I could ever understand...

"Kuh... hrk...

Suddenly, we all froze at the sound from the bed.

A cough.

The miracle hadn’t stopped.

"Cough... A... ah?"

Words formed, slowly, as if he was just now discovering the use of his voice and lungs.

"Where...?"

Everyone stood silent. The only one able to speak was me.

"...Mr. Rick."

"Dory... s?"

Rick turned his head toward us.

"This is... a hospital?"

"Mr. Rick, are you okay?"

"Of course I... argh!"

Rick tried to sit up in bed, only to collapse forward. After being bedridden so long, he must have lost a lot of muscle.

Thankfully, Tristan rushed over and supported him.

"You don’t seem okay at all. Stay lying down a bit longer."

"Hah... First thing I see after waking up is Your Highness."

"If you didn’t like that, you shouldn’t have saved me."

"And for throwing myself in the way, my reward is this fancy hospital room? If I stay in a place this nice, I might just pick up some bad habits..."

As Rick looked around, his eyes stopped at the one person who didn’t belong—the old man, neither a guard nor hospital staff.

"Who is he?"

"...Rick."

"Sir...?"

"You... you’re Layla’s...!"

Rick couldn’t answer, nor ask.

Because the old man had rushed forward and embraced him with all his frail strength.

"Layla... my baby girl..."

For a long while, the old man repeated only his daughter’s name. But that alone must have told Rick who he was.

At some point, Rick’s hands—awkward but certain—reached up to return the old man’s embrace.

The old man couldn’t stay in the room much longer.

The guards tied his wrists with rope.

To help wrap things up, I gave a statement to them—and to Rick.

"This old man stabbed Prince Tristan deeply with a weapon, claiming it was revenge for his grandson."

Rick was clearly overwhelmed by the whirlwind of events since waking, but the old man didn’t deny what he’d done.

Now that his grandson was alive, perhaps he’d found a reason to go on.

Tristan spoke: "There’s only one punishment for an attempted assassination of royalty. But this old man was merely a pawn in Count Braum’s scheme—and he’s also the only family of Rick Ray, the man who saved my life."

"Ah..."

"He can’t be found innocent. But if he fully testifies about Count Braum’s actions, I’ll ensure he gets to spend more time with his newly found family."

"Th... thank you, Your Highness!"

"You’ll have to endure a bit first."

As the old man was taken away, I slipped the bread and cookies I’d bought earlier into his arms.

Tristan let out a helpless laugh, then clutched his stomach with a groan.

Rick panicked.

"Your Highness? Did... did you receive treatment?"

"No problem."

"But you were stabbed!"

"I’m fine. Royals are given a special emergency medicine—very effective."

Tristan shook an empty glass vial.

Rick still looked unconvinced, but when I stepped forward, his gaze turned to me.

"Rick, it’s been a while. We’ve got a lot to talk about, the three of us."

"...Yeah, we do."

"But let’s wait until you’ve recovered a bit more. Please focus on healing."

"...Thank you. And I’m sorry."

"We’ll talk after everything’s over. Oh, by the way, Rick—does anything hurt?"

"I don’t have much strength, but there’s no pain."

"Then I’ll borrow this medicine for a bit."

I took a packet of green powder from his med tray.

Rick looked confused, but didn’t stop me.

Tristan left the hospital room first. I followed his graceful steps down the hall, out through the emergency exit—

"Haa..."

"Your Highness, take this quickly!"

I handed him the painkiller he’d earlier pointed out in Rick’s basket.

Tristan tossed it back dry.

"Can’t say it tastes good."

Well, at least he still had the energy to joke.

"Your Highness, I’m thankful you saved Rick, but... please don’t make such risky decisions again."

This reckless man had pretended to use the royal emergency medicine on himself during the assassination attempt—just to save Rick.

After swallowing the medicine, Tristan said: "That wasn’t... disgraceful, was it?"

"Seriously, that’s what you care about right now?"

"Of course."

His silver-blue eyes turned to me.

"I swore I wouldn’t show you any disgraceful sides again. That much... I intend to keep."