I'm Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway-Chapter 114

Tristan.

What are you thinking about by yourself right now?

I wanted to ask him that over and over. Was he misunderstanding something?

That sort of thing didn’t suit our relationship.

Honestly, isn’t this the kind of situation that only happens to protagonists in a five-volume romance novel who have already spent four volumes building up their story?

For a moment, I considered just laying everything out and freeing myself from this mess.

But the problem was that the cards in my hand weren’t exactly clean enough to clear up any misunderstandings.

Bringing up the salon might ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) just add more fuel to the fire.

While I hesitated, Tristan seemed to have reached a decision and turned to me.

“Dori. Do you have time today?”

“Yes, of course!”

“I was thinking of visiting Rick... and there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Understood. Whatever it is, please go ahead.”

“Then get ready and come out. If you need anything, let the palace maids know.”

Tristan returned to his room.

When the maid approached to take his orders, I told her I didn’t need anything. But without a word, she handed me a small cloth pouch.

It wasn’t until then that I realized I actually did need something—to store the crumpled, filthy letter I was holding.

Walking around with it as it was would definitely make people recoil. Especially my family.

Soon, dressed simply, I headed to the royal hospital with Tristan.

Rick was lying in a spacious and comfortable private room.

For a mere worker, he seemed to be staying in what could only be called a VIP suite. The reason became clear when Tristan explained.

“He shielded me from a monster.”

“...Excuse me? Wait, really?”

“There’s not even room to doubt it. He did it deliberately and unmistakably.”

Even as Tristan spoke, his own expression showed disbelief at what had happened.

Same here.

If they had a normal superior-subordinate relationship, it could have been chalked up as a battlefield tale of loyalty.

But Rick wasn’t a soldier. He was just a hired hand—

Rick. You don’t even like Tristan.

To you, he was nothing more than someone who pestered Maria and schemed to take Blue Atrium for himself.

Sure, Tristan had let go of Maria now, and he had personally taken up his sword to handle the monsters in Blue Atrium, but...

That’s not enough of a change to make you throw your life away for him.

Beneath the thick bandages covering half his upper body, his well-built frame trembled slightly with every breath.

I pressed down my unease with a fragile hope and spoke up.

“Rick...?”

His eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, making my heart lurch—

But there was no reply. No reaction.

The face that always carried a playful grin now looked rigid, like a mask. He seemed more alive when he was actually wearing a skull mask.

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Suppressing the lump in my throat, I forced out the words I had to say.

“Thank you for protecting His Highness. I’ll be waiting for you to return, my friend and benefactor.”

Only now did it truly hit me what Rick had meant to me.

Even if it had been through a mask, he was one of the few people I could speak to honestly.

Damn it, I’m going to cry.

And if I did, I’d look exactly like the tragic mistress in an affair.

I bit my tongue to hold back the tears and stepped away.

Tristan also backed away from the bed but, instead of leaving the hospital room, he took a seat in a small reception area nearby.

“What I wanted to discuss with you is Rick’s future... and his reward. He doesn’t have any family, does he?”

“The closest thing he has would be Maria, since they came here together. You already informed the Meyer family, right?”

“Yes. They said they wouldn’t accept any reward for themselves but would continue to support him emotionally until he recovered. A predictable response.”

Then he got to the real point.

“This is just a hypothetical... but if his so-called family, the ones who abandoned him until now, suddenly showed up and demanded compensation, should we recognize them?”

“...Excuse me? Did something happen?”

“It’s just a possibility. When an unclaimed soldier earns merit and dies, it’s not uncommon for some distant relative to crawl out of the woodwork, claiming ties to him.”

The moment he said it, a certain bastard—no, a piece of garbage—popped into my head.

The lord of Blue Atrium, who had suddenly rediscovered his son the moment his estate was at risk.

Is that scumbag trying to test the waters again?

Either way, my answer was simple.

“If they weren’t people Rick himself considered family, then they can be ignored.”

“Even if they’re blood-related?”

“Family is just a label for a relationship. No relationship forms automatically. Thinking you can just collect a blood tie without ever interacting is nothing but thievery.”

“...That’s harsh.”

“Even actual family members can end up worse than enemies. Blood doesn’t automatically mean they’re precious.”

“You speak as if you’ve experienced it yourself.”

“Not all experiences have to be personal.”

I didn’t even need to cite newspaper scandals or Net forums. My own biological parents were proof enough.

“Oh, but my current family is fine! Especially Natalie—she looks like she’s always sharp-tongued, is actually sharp-tongued, and even inside she’s sharp-tongued, but we have a close bond. Don’t worry.”

“...I’m not sure that’s reassuring, but either way, thank you. If the worst happens to Rick, I was afraid of making an irreversible mistake.”

“But for now, it’s just a ‘what if,’ right?”

“Yes. Right now, just hope for his recovery. If anything does happen, I’ll seek your wisdom again.”

Hearing my rash words be called wisdom made me feel a little embarrassed.

As Tristan stood up, I cast one last glance at Rick’s bed.

Originally, the fate of the second male lead wasn’t my concern.

Even as a reader, I wouldn’t have cared.

Paying attention to the second lead with brown hair was like willingly investing in a doomed stock and watching your heart get shattered.

I wasn’t interested in you that way. And I especially didn’t want to see you beat the hell out of Tristan in the latter half like in the original.

But... I never wished for you to end up in an even worse state than in the novel.

Please wake up, Rick Ray.

No matter what happens, I want to support you as you keep moving forward.

“If you’re heading straight back, I’ll escort you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Maybe this was the consequence of misjudging the distance between people.

Even now, more than anything, I wanted to make sure my fiancé didn’t misunderstand.

So I quickly tore my gaze away from Rick and stepped out of the hospital room.

***

The day Tristan set out for Blue Atrium, he was certain he would return with a smile.

He deliberately ignored the possibility that he might come back looking at Arthur in utter misery. If it came to that, he would rather be swallowed whole by a monster.

...And yet, none of those assumptions came to pass.

At the final victory, the soldiers cheered. Arthur cheered. Even Count Braum, outwardly at least, spoke of how he was moved by His Highness’s great feat.

A few soldiers clicked their tongues and murmured about Rick’s condition.

"What a shame. He should’ve been more careful."

"At least he’ll be well compensated."

Arthur attempted to console Tristan.

"Every operation comes with sacrifices, so don’t blame yourself too much, Your Highness. Thanks to your swift action, he survived, didn’t he?"

In truth, if Tristan hadn’t used an emergency mana stone treatment—something reserved exclusively for the royal family—Rick would have died there in Blue Atrium.

On the way back to the capital, Tristan laid Rick inside the royal carriage, which had the least amount of shaking. Arthur, on the other hand, insisted on riding on horseback among the soldiers.

In the past, the thought of spending time alone together like this would have been unbearably awkward.

Now, Tristan found himself talking to Rick the entire way.

"Hey. I think I might be the only one here who actually pities you the most. What do you think? If you feel wronged, why don’t you wake up and say something?"

"What exactly is this letter you wanted to pass on?"

"What’s your relationship with Dori? At the very least... you do have feelings for her, don’t you?"

"Then, should I be the one to deliver this letter to her?"

The bastard didn’t answer a single question.

"...I’ll bring the best doctors in the capital, so wake up soon. If you want your wish to come true, your testimony is necessary."

Of course, there were things that needed to be done even before Rick woke up.

Tristan copied the signature at the end of the letter onto another sheet of paper.

The strange signature bore no resemblance to Rick Ray’s name. It seemed to be constructed by altering certain numbers.

"The numbers at the beginning must be the current year and month. And in the signature... it looks like the current year is encoded in a modified way. ...Does that mean this signature marks the time it was created?"

A signature made the same year Rick arrived in the capital. And the only content of the letter was ‘You won,’ a message regarding some kind of victory or defeat.

"A situation where a noblewoman and a commoner would have a reason to compete over something..."

Among the few clues available, the word victory reminded Tristan of a conversation he had earlier this season with a friend.

Or rather, with that bastard who used to be his friend—Alex.

After completing Rick’s emergency admission to the hospital, Tristan immediately made his way to the convalescent facility behind the royal hospital.

On the day of the hunting tournament, Alex had ended up bedridden with every one of his limbs broken, so thoroughly bandaged that it was hard to tell whether he was a person or just a wrapped-up mummy.

Now, he had recovered enough to walk slowly without crutches.

The moment he spotted Tristan after all this time, he nearly collapsed again, almost breaking another bone.

"Hiiik! T-T-Tristan?! What are you doing here?"

"I just have one thing to ask, Alex. I hope you’ll answer nicely."