I'm Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway-Chapter 126

One of the more experienced maids, who knew about my visits to the Sacred Salon, saw me off.

“Have a safe trip, my lady.”

“I’ll be back soon. Take care of things while I’m gone.”

“If you’re not back by ten, I’ll come looking for you.”

In a world without cell phones, or even emergency bells on streetlamps, her words felt reassuring.

I stepped out of the back gate with confidence—

"Woof! Woof!"

Immediately, a dog started barking, and I screamed internally.

No, no, no! Don’t wake up my parents, you idiot!

Fortunately, the maid reacted quickly, pulling out a strip of jerky and luring the dog away. I hurriedly shut the gate behind me and quickened my pace.

Why was the dog barking?

I glanced around but saw nothing suspicious. That dog wasn’t dumb enough to bark at every passing cat…

Still, I had a bad feeling about this.

Shaking it off, I navigated through the crowds enjoying their Saturday night, forcing my increasingly exhausted body to push forward.

Eventually, I reached the stone path leading to the abandoned chapel.

Circling around the building, I opened the wooden door.

As always, the warm scent of food and the distant murmur of music welcomed me inside.

But… why does something feel off?

"Woof!"

“Oh, hello, Lady Witch.”

I reached down to ruffle the thick fur of Lady Witch, Madame Abigail’s large gray dog.

Then it hit me.

The Salon felt empty.

Where was Madame Abigail?

As if on cue, a server approached.

“The Madame will be arriving a little late tonight. The currency exchange will proceed as scheduled. Do you have a message for her?”

“Yes, let her know I have business with her—an information trade.”

“Understood.”

The server soon returned with my order: a plate of waffles and a fruit juice. No alcohol tonight.

If I’m going to trade information worth nine coins, I need a clear head.

I turned my attention to the large board mounted inside the Salon.

One by one, the names of today’s racehorses and their owners were being updated with betting records from the racetrack.

Excited chatter filled the room as people gathered around the board, either celebrating or lamenting their losses.

“Ugh, that Marquis! He swore up and down he was betting on ‘Prince Percival’—was that a lie?!”

“Of course it was! I knew he’d put his money on the Crown Prince instead!”

I held my breath as I scanned the board.

Father—as expected—had bet on Brutal Ruby and lost.

Percival had bet on himself and lost.

And Baron Meyer…

Gotcha!

Minimum nine coins secured! With this much, I can buy whatever information I need!

The Salon buzzed with the highs and lows of victory and defeat.

One by one, people lined up at the exchange counter to collect their winnings. I waited until the crowd thinned before stepping up.

“September betting number 12. Coins will be issued accordingly.”

The server handed me a slip of paper.

coin: 10ea.

Wait, ten?

I got one more than I expected!

“Your total coin count has been recorded in our system. Would you like the physical coins as well?”

“Hmm… I’ll collect them later.”

“Understood.”

Salon coins were more of a novelty item.

And honestly, receiving ten of those heavy things—each weighing more than a standard 500-won coin—sounded like a hassle.

“Is Madame here yet?”

“Not yet. If you’d like, you can leave your request with me.”

“No, I’ll wait and tell her in person.”

I couldn’t just discuss the Second Prince with any random staff member.

For now, I returned my focus to my meal.

The golden-brown waffles were crisp and perfect. The ice cream on top was slightly disappointing in texture, but comparing it to modern mass-produced ice cream would be unfair.

It was a happiness-inducing taste.

And yet…

Maybe it’s because I don’t have anyone to talk to, but I keep thinking about earlier.

The image of the Countess of Redfield—her face as she spoke about preparing her daughters’ weddings—kept surfacing in my mind.

"I made sure to find the perfect wedding shoes! I always regretted not being able to do the same for Grace’s wedding. Doris, don’t grumble about spending money on something ‘invisible’—just wear them, alright?"

"Doris’s birth flower is forget-me-not. It’s beautiful but a bit difficult to use for wedding decorations. I’ll add a few to the bouquet. As for Natalie’s birth flower…"

Doris Redfield was a minor character.

She was created purely to serve as an accessory in Tristan’s redemption arc—his inevitable "cleanup" phase. After all, as a prince, he couldn’t be disposed of like a common villain.

So, the author must have thrown in a devoted, pure-hearted wife character to tie up the loose ends.

Doris didn’t even have a face.

Even in paintings, her portrait had simply been replaced by mine.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

But ever since I arrived in this world, Doris had become real.

She now had twenty-one years of history—a history I would never fully understand.

Countess Redfield…

I was your daughter.

And at the same time, I wasn’t.

For twenty-one years, you had been affectionate toward someone, but the only thing I had was the six months’ worth of conflicted emotions I had built.

I didn’t believe for a second that she had loved her children purely.

The Count and Countess were people from a time before the concept of child rights even existed.

To them, their children were incomplete adults—or worse, mere tools to continue their legacy.

…And yet, none of that changed the fact that when she had gently patted my head and murmured, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a prettier face,” I had felt her love.

Why don’t I feel this same unease with my sister?

It was probably because I was the one who had built a new relationship with my sister over the past six months.

The same was true for my friendships—Maria, my maids, the ladies I had befriended through correspondence lessons and rehearsals.

All of them were mine.

But my parents?

That wasn’t something I could change.

Especially since I’m about to completely wreck my sister’s wedding.

Would I ever be able to love my parents?

Meeting people like them under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have liked them.

But because the story dictated that they were my family—

Because they loved me in their own way—

I don’t know.

Who would’ve thought I’d feel guilty over characters who barely had any significance in the novel?

They were the definition of shallow. I was still sure of that.

And yet…

Nothing is simple.

When I first fell into this world, I thought everything would resolve itself if I just waited.

After all, the prince was going to marry me, and even if I wasn’t happy, I would at least live peacefully.

But reality had me by the throat.

The Count and Countess of Redfield: Parents fitting of Natalie. Their minds are consumed with the goal of marrying off their daughters to good families.

That was all the novel said about them.

Yet, here I was, feeling guilty.

And then there was Tristan.

I couldn’t even look at him with a clear conscience.

What did I really think about him—

"Woof! Woof!"

Lady Witch’s sudden barking snapped me out of my thoughts.

The whole room turned to look.

She had jumped onto the central table, scratching at it with her paws, her low growl reverberating through the Salon.

I had never seen her act like this before.

Judging by the murmurs around me, neither had anyone else.

“What’s up with the dog? She getting bored of life or something—huh?”

Immediately, employees rushed out from behind the counter, positioning themselves at different tables.

A masked staff member stopped in front of me.

“Please exit.”

“What?”

“This is a signal that an outsider has approached the Salon. Our staff will intercept them, but for your safety, please follow our instructions and leave.”

“Wait, but I need to speak with Madame Abigail—”

“There are no exceptions. Once the situation is under control, all members will be notified in writing. Please prepare to leave. The secrecy of our members is our highest priority.”

“….”

The employee was firm.

Somewhere across the room, another guest was resisting—and was promptly subdued by the staff.

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Most of the patrons, however, quietly pressed their masks closer to their faces and stood up, following the evacuation orders.

"Uh, where are we supposed to go?"

"We’ll assign exits. Everyone will leave through different doors."

Clearly, revealing their identities was the greatest fear for most of these people.

My situation was a little different.

What about my information?

When would the Salon open again? When would I be able to use my coins? Would it be before my sister’s wedding?

If I can’t get my answers here, I might have to take a riskier route…

Would I have to prepare myself for that?

I was still debating when the employee tapped my shoulder.

“My lady, it’s your turn to leave.”

By now, at least three-quarters of the guests had already vanished from the Salon.

Without another word, I followed the employee through a side door near the kitchen, stepping into an unfamiliar path.

Minutes later, I emerged in a completely different location.

Turning around, I realized—I was now behind the abandoned chapel, in what looked like a storage area littered with broken pews.

The employee gave a strict warning.

“You may hear an intruder’s voice as you leave. Our staff will handle them. Do not engage. You will be escorted safely home.”

“Understood.”

I said that—but of course, I couldn’t just ignore the presence of an outsider.

Who in their right mind would walk all the way out here, through an unlit path, just to reach a place like this?

“This way, my lady.”

I stepped onto the stone path. The employee’s hurried footsteps urged me to move faster.

I would be out of earshot soon.

…But before I could get too far, a familiar voice reached my ears.

"Why are you blocking the way?"

"This area is restricted. It’s dangerous to go any further."

"I saw people going in. You don’t seem like a facility manager…"

Even as the staff tried to stop him, I—like Orpheus—turned back.

And when I did, I saw the intruder.

Even in the dim light, his silhouette was unmistakable.

Tristan.

What the hell are you doing here?

No one accidentally stumbled upon the Sacred Salon.

No one outside its staff should even know about it.

My mind quickly pieced together the remaining clues.

You… you followed me, didn’t you?