I'm Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway-Chapter 120

The Countess of Redfield looked startled.

"Natalie? Weren’t you supposed to be watching the race with His Highness?"

"I said I was stepping away for a moment... to fix my makeup. But there’s something I wanted to ask you both."

"Dear, dear. Stop worrying about that Ruby or Sapphire or whatever and look up."

With a heavy sigh, the count finally raised his head. His expression made it clear—he must have lost quite a bit of money.

‘Then I suppose I should start with some good news.’

"Prince Percival seems to be enjoying his time with me."

"Of course! What man wouldn’t love the chance to have you all to himself? When do you plan to give him an answer?"

"I haven’t even asked my question yet."

"...Oh? Right, go ahead."

"Mother, Father."

Natalie took a deep breath before speaking.

"If I were to pursue a path other than marriage, how much financial support could I expect from you?"

"...."

An icy silence fell over them.

Just from their reaction, she already knew what their answer would be.

Still, Natalie pressed on.

"How much—"

"Speak some sense, girl!"

The Count’s shout rang through the booth, loud enough that even the nearby spectators—previously engrossed in the race—turned their heads for a moment.

Natalie let out a small, amused scoff.

"Congratulations, Father. You’ve finally snapped out of your post-race loss shock."

"That’s not the issue! What is this nonsense about money?"

"It’s purely hypothetical. For example, if I wanted to start my own business—"

"Ridiculous! Natalie, have you been influenced by something absurd?"

"Not particularly. Plenty of young noblemen take that route, don’t they?"

"You’re being foolish. Your only asset is your beauty, and combined with our family’s influence, the best possible outcome is a marriage into the royal family!"

"...."

"You even accepted the royal box invitation today. Everyone assumes you’ll accept his proposal. And now you’re asking this?"

"I haven’t accepted the proposal yet, so I thought this was my last chance to ask."

Her father’s eyes flared with irritation as he delivered his final, decisive answer.

"No one wastes money as fertilizer for a flower they have no intention of cultivating. As long as I live, I will never fund your vague delusions!"

"I understand."

Her response was quick and even.

The count’s brows, which had been raised in anger, furrowed as he stared at her, as if doubting his own ears.

"...Natalie?"

"I’ll see you both after the race."

"Natalie, what are you talking about?"

"Oh dear. Were you responding without even understanding what I said? That’s troubling."

"Natalie!"

Natalie placed her hands gently on her father’s shoulders, stilling him.

"I understand everything you just said. If I accept His Highness’s proposal, you’ll ensure I become the perfect bride."

"...Y-yes. Stop wasting time on silly ideas and focus on what you do best!"

"I’ll do as you say. See you after the race."

With a graceful bow, Natalie turned and left.

The count and countess, thrown into disarray by their daughter’s unexpected composure, remained frozen in place.

But soon, the cheers of the spectators reclaimed their attention, giving Natalie the perfect chance to slip away from their booth.

***

I mulled over Percival’s earlier words.

Had Tristan done something inappropriate?

Well, it’s not so much that Tristan does something offensive—he himself is an embodiment of offense.

"His Highness is the same as always. It’s just that I was a bit on edge and raised my voice over nothing."

"On edge? Has something happened?"

"I’ve been feeling restless, thinking about how even my second sister will soon leave me... Your Highness. You proposed to my sister, didn’t you?"

"I did. In a manner so direct that even the most oblivious of ladies couldn’t deny it."

‘More like in a way so unbearable that no one could defend you, you bastard.’

Forcing a smile, I replied,

"My parents will be thrilled to hear the news. My sister will surely accept your proposal."

"That is also the answer I’ve been waiting for. But since she’s stepped away for the moment, I’ll say this—our conversation before she left wasn’t exactly cheerful."

"Oh dear. Did something happen?"

"Not particularly. I made an effort to amuse her, but Lady Natalie did not grant me even a moment’s smile."

If she merely didn’t scowl, she was already putting in effort.

‘If she actually smiled at you, that would be more terrifying.’

Of course, I didn’t say that aloud.

I had a different message to deliver.

"Accepting a proposal doesn’t necessarily mean she’s happy with this marriage."

"Haha, well—wait. What?"

He stared at me, his expression one of disbelief.

If he didn’t understand, I’d spell it out for him.

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"Your Highness, as far as I know, earlier this year, you were in discussions about a different engagement. It was a quiet matter, but I heard it was ultimately called off."

"...I don’t recall spreading that information, but you seem well-informed. However, isn’t your sister more accustomed to being the subject of gossip than I am?"

"Yes, my sister has always been the center of attention. But that’s merely because she’s a coveted beauty—never because of anything as messy as failed marriage negotiations."

Percival’s face hardened.

‘He looks like someone who just got slapped by Medusa.’

He must not have expected to hear such words from me.

I was Doris Redfield, the most well-mannered and demure lady in all of society.

Under normal circumstances—or rather, in any reasonable scenario—no one would expect me to comment on my elder’s marriage.

Which is precisely why my words would sting all the more.

"I don’t understand the complexities of romance as well as others, since I’ve only ever looked at His Highness Tristan. But if I were engaged to someone who once had another fiancée, I would inevitably weigh the sincerity of their proposal."

"...."

"But my sister, I’m sure, sees value in Your Highness’s kindness—such as choosing a beautiful vacation spot for her. And more than anything, she will appreciate your unwavering sincerity in your courtship—"

"Hahaha. So, in the elegant words of Lady Doris Redfield, you’re saying my sister accepted a subpar proposal but will still go through with it because she pities me?"

Ding ding ding! Correct answer.

I was briefly worried he wouldn’t understand, but he grasped the core of my message.

Still, for formality’s sake, I feigned innocence.

"Your Highness, why are you saying such things? Have I been impolite in some way—"

"I suspected as much since the charity performance. And yet, you still try to act sweet and innocent?"

"I’m not acting! I—I’m not a good person!"

"...."

"I can be selfish if ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) I need to. Please, I beg you. Ensure that this marriage brings happiness to my beloved sister—"

Before he could spit out whatever sharp words had been forming on his lips, the roar of the crowd drowned him out.

"Blue Axe! A major collision with Brutal Ruby!"

Percival’s head snapped toward the track.

Ah. As expected.

‘Percival, you bet big on your horse, didn’t you?’

According to the Sacred Salon, Blue Axe was known for its strong final sprints.

Its rough temper but solid results made it a favorite for gamblers who thrived on thrilling comebacks.

A perfect match for Percival’s personality.

He grabbed the rail, eyes locked on the track.

"Damn it! Run, get back in the race!"

But no matter how much he shouted, a fallen horse doesn’t return to the lead.

As the chaos settled, I turned to him and smiled.

"Your Highness, please take good care of my sister."

"...Hah. At this point, I need to reconsider who truly landed above their station in this marriage."

His grumbling didn’t last long.

Because at that moment—

Tristan returned.

"Dori. I’m back... Brother?"