I'm Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway-Chapter 123

"You actually did it."

"Protecting the Blue Atrium in a way befitting a ruler. Not only the count’s report but also the testimonies of the soldiers who fought alongside you and the young duke’s praise all support that fact."

"......."

"This time, you’re finally receiving the reward for all your silent efforts."

Of course, objectively speaking, not everyone is given such an opportunity for a great reward—

But Tristan even put his life on the line.

Compared to those privileged kids who land mid-level management positions straight out of their first job thanks to their parents, then turn around and say, “Do you even know how scary it was to come down from the parachute? I did it! Stop whining about how hard life is, you poor folks!”—Tristan is overwhelmingly different.

"The people Your Highness should think about aren’t just Rick. Don’t let the voices of the soldiers who supported you and the young duke who fought beside you be buried beneath your emotions."

"......."

"Next time... in front of people, please smile."

I had said everything I needed to.

Maybe it was because I had uttered something so embarrassingly sentimental, but my face suddenly felt hot.

Ah, seriously. First, I went along with all that smiling and playing nice in front of my future in-laws, and now I’ve said all sorts of things completely against my nature today!

The typical shame and regret of an introvert who had overdrawn their social energy for several years all at once came crashing down.

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Tristan’s face.

Of course, I had already abandoned any expectations of a good reaction. This was Tristan, after all.

No, please, just don’t say anything infuriating. My social energy is completely drained; I can’t afford to say anything nice anymore.

But I couldn’t just stand here wasting time either, so I hurriedly changed the topic.

"Y-Your Highness. Shall we head to the racetrack hall now? I’m curious which horses the others have bet on."

I awkwardly reached out toward Tristan’s arm.

Normally, in this kind of situation, a gentleman would quickly pick up on the cue and subtly bend his arm inward so that the lady could place her hand on it. That’s basic escort etiquette.

However, what my hand touched wasn’t the firm, elegantly curved arm of a fiancé prepared for his role—it was just limply hanging there, only for him to belatedly flinch.

"Your Highness?"

Far from escorting me, Tristan took a slight step back and covered his face with one hand.

"I, uh... Since I didn’t place any bets, I don’t really have a reason to meet anyone."

"......."

"Oh, right. I should go check on the horses that were in the accident. Since Percival is busy right now, I’ll do it in his stead."

"...Alright."

As soon as I replied, Tristan turned sharply toward the corridor.

I swallowed my sigh and frustration.

Wasn’t he the one who asked me to act convincingly, so no one would doubt our engagement?

I was doing exactly what he wanted. And yet, he flinched so obviously? I really tried my best, you know!

Seriously, he’s been getting on my nerves since earlier...

...Wait?

Why isn’t he leaving?

A moment ago, he seemed like he was about to bolt from this spot, yet now he was standing still just a few steps away. His shoulders moved slightly, as if he was taking deep breaths.

Then, he turned his head just a little and—

"...Thanks, Dori."

"Wh-What?"

As soon as he said that, he ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ really did leave this time, his long strides carrying him away without another word.

Between the strands of his silver hair fluttering in the air, I caught a glimpse of his ear, dyed red like a hawthorn berry.

...And I lost the ability to speak.

What the... What?!

Did I... Did I just witness Tristan blushing?

Was that... even a real thing that could exist in this world?

And what exactly was he embarrassed about?

Because I complimented him? Because I pointed out his own behavior? Or was it just the act of saying “thank you” itself?

Whichever it was, seeing something so completely unexpected left me dazed for a long time, replaying his last moment in my mind.

It wasn’t until I noticed people gradually gathering in the racetrack hall that my senses returned.

Or rather, reality hit me.

People were gathering in small groups, chatting away.

"I bet on Lady’s favorite horse. It was a disappointing result, but I’m glad we got to meet up."

The invited couples were using this opportunity to walk around together, greeting relatives and friends.

...Anyway, Tristan left me here alone.

Whether it was for work or something else.

A tangled mess of emotions swirled inside me.

Tristan.

I hate you. But the fact that I can’t just hate you is really troublesome.

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It was supposed to be so easy.

The Tristan I knew was made up of 20% good looks, 10% high status, and 70% pure arrogance—a trashy side character. I was supposed to hate him to my heart’s content, watch from the sidelines, and then just accept him after his miraculous last-minute redemption.

But now... what do I do?

Now I know that Tristan is a man who is both full of confidence and yet somehow lacking it. Someone who is used to being admired, but completely clueless when it comes to handling praise. He’s an incredibly complicated person.

And—he’s diligent.

I can’t completely hate someone like that anymore.

But then... what do you think of me?

A man who claims he has no feelings for me.

A man who flinches at even the most basic physical contact from his fiancée.

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

Yet, a man who always doubts my heart.

What am I supposed to do with you—

Just then, someone passing by interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

"Hah, who would’ve thought this would happen? The expressions at the salon tonight are going to be priceless."

A salon member.

Feigning nonchalance, I held up my betting ticket as if heading to the exchange counter and subtly merged into the crowd.

Despite the noisy chatter around me, certain words stood out loud and clear.

"Someone bet three coins, apparently... I wonder how that turned out."

"Three coins? Wow, the salon staff must be checking the betting records and calculating the payout right now. If that person won, the whole salon’s going to be in chaos."

"How do you think it’ll go for you?"

"I picked the wrong horse from the start... Ugh, I don’t even want to show my face at the salon tonight."

A lightbulb flicked on in my mind.

Yes. Instead of dwelling on things I can’t figure out, I should focus on what’s about to be decided today.

If the original story played out as expected, then Baron Meyer should be ruined from today’s bets. And Percival already lost earlier.

Now all that’s left is for Father to lose as well... Apologies, Father.

I’m not wishing for your life to be ruined or anything.

Muttering to myself, I made my way toward my parents’ table.

I didn’t even get far before my mother’s laughter rang out.

"It’s been years since I’ve heard such wonderful news! We must host a ball immediately to announce this beautiful couple’s union to our family and friends..."

In the distance, my mother was beaming. Percival was also smiling with that same insufferable look.

Father was smiling too, for the most part, though he occasionally glanced at a piece of paper on the table and frowned—probably confirming that he had, indeed, lost. Good. Everything was going smoothly.

And my sister was the first to notice my approach, flashing a real smile at last.

I smiled back, straightening my thoughts.

First things first—I needed to focus on what had to be done.

My emotions... they can wait.

And so can Tristan’s.

***

"Thank you for mediating, Prince Tristan."

The racetrack manager bowed several times toward Tristan before whispering.

"To be honest, the owner of Brutal Ruby was reluctant to face Prince Percival. Thanks to Your Highness handling the situation, we can breathe easier."

"It wasn’t... anything too significant—ahem. I'm glad it was helpful."

"In that case, we’ll send the relevant documents to the royal stables in the palace."

Fortunately, neither of the two injured horses had suffered fractures. They wouldn’t be competing for a while, but considering how racehorses were often euthanized at the first sign of a broken leg, this outcome was already a relief.

Tristan left the administrative office with light steps, making his way back toward the racetrack hallway when—

He suddenly caught sight of a familiar swish of fabric in the distance.

Immediately, he took a step back.

"Hm? Your Highness, is something the matter?"

"I should check on the royal horses one more time before leaving."

"Understood."

The staff member didn’t question him further and returned to the office with the documents in hand.

But instead of heading toward the stables, Tristan stood in the middle of the corridor, waiting for Doris to pass by.

This space was far removed from the fervor of the gambling hall. The murmuring voices of the crowd drifted in from a distant part of the building. He couldn’t make out the conversations at all—it was like the low rumbling of storm clouds gathering in the distance.

Would Doris’s voice be among them?

...Did she have someone to talk to?

Tristan resisted the urge to bolt from the stables and instead stared at the spot where Doris had touched his arm earlier.

Once, the moments he spent touching Doris Redfield had been pure happiness.

That was why, on the night of the charity performance, he had pulled her close. The bouquet between them had been no obstacle. No—if that crushed bouquet had stained their clothes the same color, leaving behind proof that they had once touched, he would have welcomed it.

But ever since the Blue Atrium campaign, the question of Doris’s heart had become an undeniable variable.

I’m afraid... that she touches me without feeling anything at all.

When Doris’s warmth reached him, he felt as though he might melt into her shape.

But what if she, in contrast, felt nothing?

Would that not be the same as blindly worshiping a god who never acknowledges your devotion?

The thought gnawed at him, sinking deeper, consuming more and more of his mind. The weight of it spurred his body into action. He couldn’t breathe.

He needed to find a way to break through.

I know this is selfish of me, but... I have to find out what’s in your heart, Doris.

Whether the answer would be fresh air or toxic gas—only time would tell.