I'm Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway-Chapter 118

The words I had been holding back burst out.

Tristan. You’ve been insufferable for a long time.

Even if it’s a marriage you don’t want, you shouldn’t be chasing after another woman right in front of your fiancée.

...Of course, back at the beginning of the season, when I was certain of the future, I thought it didn’t really matter.

Because eventually, Maria would reject you, and you’d regret it.

And the more karma you built up, the sweeter the catharsis would be when you finally apologized.

Most of all, I had never expected anything from you.

But now that I’ve started thinking you might be a slightly better person than I thought...

"Dori..."

Tristan, who had looked like he was about to bolt onto the track, stiffened before slowly turning toward me.

"I’m sorry. I won’t go out."

"...."

"So please... don’t leave either."

"I won’t."

Swallowing the heat that still lingered in my voice, I slowly returned to my chair.

For a fleeting moment, I had the impulse to storm out.

But maybe because I’d raised my voice, I could feel the curious gaze of Percival from the next booth and my sister’s expectant look, as if waiting for the signal to launch an attack.

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I couldn’t quite manage a smile, but I erased the anger from my face as I sat down and said,

"Your Highness should sit as well."

"...Dori."

"Are you going to ask now, or later? Whether I had a secret rendezvous with Rick? Or if I’ve been frequenting shady gambling dens? You must be curious about a lot of things."

"I... No, I won’t ask."

What the hell? Are you trying to act like some generous man all of a sudden?

I felt another surge of irritation, but even if he had asked, I wouldn’t have been able to answer—because at that moment, the race announcer’s voice rang through the venue, sending the crowd into an excited frenzy.

In the meantime, Tristan sat down beside me.

Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand over the back of his.

He flinched as if I’d pressed a snowball against his skin.

"Dori?"

"On the day of the charity event, you asked me to play the role of your fiancée. To make it look convincing to anyone watching."

With all the noise, I wasn’t sure if my voice had even reached him properly.

I jerked my chin toward the next booth, where Percival and Natalie were watching with blatant interest.

Tristan, realizing the situation, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) nodded reluctantly.

Why are you acting awkward when you’re the one who asked for this in the first place?

After a brief pause, I withdrew my hand. This time, he twitched like a child who’d just had their blanket stolen in the morning.

"Dori?"

"They’ve turned back to watching the race."

"...I see."

Even after that dull reply, he didn’t move his hand away from where mine had been.

The announcer’s voice rang out.

"Eighteen horses are lining up at the starting gate! Oh, it looks like Blue Axe is having some trouble getting in. Will it be able to start properly? Ah, is it trying to greet the horse next to it?"

The horse named Blue Axe stuck its head into the next stall, startling its unwitting neighbor.

Laughter spread through the audience.

Tristan muttered under his breath, "That’s just like my brother’s horse."

I knew exactly which brother’s horse he meant, but I didn’t bother commenting.

"Dori."

"Yes, I’m listening."

"...I see."

"Are you going to ask now?"

"Would you like something to drink?"

"The sparkling water and madeleines provided in the booth are enough for me."

"Then... is there anything you’d like to eat...?"

"I don’t drink madeleines. I eat them."

Sometimes I do drink them, but not now.

Even though I’d answered properly, Tristan still looked restless.

In a voice now much steadier, I added,

"Your Highness, I was just a little worked up earlier. I’m fine now. Please, enjoy the race in peace."

Tristan had always been like this. There was no point in raising my voice over it now.

So...

"There’s nothing wrong with our relationship."

Really.

From the beginning until now.

And yet, the moment I said that, Tristan’s eyes wavered.

Why? Did you think I was about to ask for a breakup?

"Your Highness, are you all right?"

"...I think my stomach is a little upset from breakfast. I’ll go to the infirmary for some lemon water and be back."

That sounds like an excuse.

I felt a twinge of unease, wondering if he was about to pull another "I’ll enter the race myself" stunt, but the announcer’s shout of "It’s about to begin!" reassured me.

"All right. If you’re too tired, take a break before coming back."

"Yeah."

Tristan left the booth.

At that moment, the gun went off, and eighteen horses burst from the gate.

The racetrack roared with cheers.

There’s something inherently thrilling about watching horses race and placing bets.

I started feeling excited—for a different reason.

‘Is my salon bet going well?’

If this event had ended normally in the original novel, I wouldn’t have even known who won.

Which meant that today, something abnormal was going to happen.

Midway through the race, Percival’s horse, Blue Axe, collided with another.

And, of all things, the injured horse was a fan favorite with high odds.

‘People who hate taking risks but don’t want to make purely social bets would have bet on that horse.’

In the original story, Baron Meyer had put a hefty sum on that favorite and lost everything.

Normally, he would’ve just gone home and cursed at the wall like a good commoner.

But caught up in the race atmosphere, he ended up thoughtlessly cursing Percival—right in front of royalty.

Arthur stepped in to mediate.

And when an agitated Percival snapped at him to "stay out of other people’s business," Arthur calmly declared, "It’s not someone else’s business when it concerns my future wife’s uncle."

Just like that, the argument fizzled out. Rick had to face his heartbreak, and Tristan officially became society’s most pathetic, lovesick fool.

"The one making an early break is Gold Logic! Is Solar Eclipse, a master of late charges, keeping pace?!"

As the horses spread out, the cheers died down slightly. I narrowed my eyes, trying to spot the one I had bet on.

‘I should have memorized the jockey’s helmet color. There’s no electronic scoreboard here, so I can’t find it!’

That was when someone interrupted me.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Doris?"

"Prince Percival. ...Oh? Has my sister stepped away?"

"She said she was going to the restroom. She didn’t even try to sugarcoat it."

"...My sister is a rather honest person."

"Honest? I’ve never seen a lady who filters her words less than her. She’s like a raw ruby."

"That’s part of her charm."

"I suppose I can agree with that—though it does make her difficult to handle."

She’s not your racehorse, you bastard.

Then Percival, ever tactless, got to the point.

"I heard your voice earlier. Did my brother offend you?"

***

Under the scorching September sun.

The sunlight filtered through the white canopy, casting a soft glow on Doris’s porcelain-like face, making her look even more radiant.

Even in autumn, she still had the face of spring, setting hearts aflutter. And yet, Doris had firmly told Tristan—

"There’s nothing wrong with our relationship."

From the moment she said that, Tristan’s heartbeat had only grown more erratic. In the end, he had blurted out some excuse about his digestion and hurriedly left the booth.

"Nothing wrong?"

The moment he heard those words, a recent conversation with Rick at Blue Atrium surfaced in his mind.

—"People only say ‘there’s nothing wrong’ when something definitely is."—

Rick’s cynical remark was now the perfect answer.

He had told himself he wouldn’t ask any questions, and yet here he was, agonizing over the possibility that his fiancée might use some suspicious bet as an excuse to break off their engagement. How could that be considered a normal relationship?

"No, Doris. It’s not that I don’t trust you..."

...It wasn’t a matter of distrust. It was more that he had only now come to realize something.

Doris was a person. A normal human being would never have good feelings toward a fiancé who blatantly pursued another woman right in front of them.

The fact that, on the day of the charity event, he had thought her reaction was jealousy—he now felt utterly ashamed.

"Doris has just been enduring it. For far too long."

Today’s brief outburst had merely been letting off a little steam. If he didn’t remove the root cause, one day Doris’s anger might explode into something far worse—something that would make even a volcano seem tame.

But the real problem was this: even at this very moment, what he feared most was that Doris might go to the Sacred Salon and wish to marry someone else.

His hands trembling, Tristan eventually found his way to a medical booth set up in a corner of the event hall.

A sip of lemon water—maybe that would clear his head.

But inside, he spotted an unexpected visitor.

"Lady Natalie?"

"Oh my."

Natalie openly scowled at him.

"I suppose I’ll need another bottle of digestive medicine."

"......."