I'm Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway-Chapter 119

At the sound of Tristan’s voice, the physician hurried out.

"Your Highness! What brings you here?"

"A glass of lemon water, with a few cooling herbs."

"Understood."

"And one for the lady as well. She already looks like she’s chewing on something bitter, so no sugar is necessary."

"I don’t need it."

Natalie turned on her heel and left the infirmary.

As Tristan waited for his drink, he asked the physician, "Why was that lady here?"

"She said she was feeling unwell. She requested the same thing as Your Highness."

There was no need to ask for further details.

There was no way she could feel comfortable sitting alone with someone like my older brother.

Then again, my brother probably felt the same, but the situation still seemed to favor him.

Ever since returning from Blue Atrium, if Tristan had to name the most shocking news aside from the matter with Doris and Rick, it would undoubtedly be Percival’s sudden engagement announcement.

"I’ll tell the family in advance—things are progressing well with Natalie Redfield. I’ll have concrete news soon."

Percival had never seemed like the marrying type.

He had always shown interest only in women who were beneath him—low-ranking nobles or actresses—those he could easily dominate.

Just last year, there had been a marriage proposal with a lady from a local count’s family. It had seemed like he might finally settle down, but...

"Somehow, without us knowing, my brother must have committed some grave offense, and the engagement fell through after much struggle—at the request of the other family."

People don’t change.

I don’t know if Natalie is really planning to take him on... but if anyone could avoid being steamrolled by my brother, it’d be her.

For the first time in his life, Tristan found himself rooting for Natalie. He downed his lemon water in one gulp.

As soon as he stepped out of the infirmary, however, Natalie’s sharp voice struck him like a dagger.

"Were you not planning to bring that lemon water to my sister?"

The support I just gave her in my head? Revoked.

"...Doris is perfectly fine and watching the race right now."

"Really? Because it sounded like she was raising her voice in your booth earlier. Did I mishear?"

Ah. So that’s why she’s even more prickly than usual today—like a chestnut burr falling from 500 meters up.

Tristan debated how to respond, then made a quick decision.

"Lady Natalie, no matter what I say, I suspect you’ll glare at me with concern for your sister. Rather than waste energy explaining, shall I sing for you instead? I know you enjoy music."

"...."

Oh. Her expression just twisted even more.

‘Is she going to explode?’

If it were Natalie, she’d probably return fire with words that would stab directly ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) at Tristan’s nerves.

‘That’d be kind of fun.’

At the very least, it would pull him out of the tangle of thoughts that had been occupying his mind all day.

But instead of the creative insults he expected, Natalie took a deep breath—

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And then said something completely unexpected.

"Sing for Doris instead. I don’t know if Your Highness is a good singer, but no woman would be upset to hear her fiancé sing to her."

"...What?"

"Was that too complicated?"

"No... that’s not it."

He had fully expected her usual sarcasm, but compared to her normal way of speaking, this might as well have been a wedding speech.

While Tristan was still questioning his own ears, Natalie continued.

"Doris is intelligent and thoughtful, but she doesn’t know everything. Until earlier this year, she and I couldn’t understand each other’s signals and were often at odds."

"Signals...?"

"The kind where a dog feels sorry for a fish and tries to take it on a walk. Doris was the one who broke the cycle of misunderstanding first. But just because it’s happened once doesn’t mean it won’t happen again."

"...That’s true."

Then, after confirming there were no bystanders, Natalie did something completely unfathomable.

She bowed her head in front of him.

"Even if you think you’re incompatible, there must be a way to make it work. Please... take care of my sister."

"...What?"

As he watched her long red hair fall gently forward, Tristan started questioning his eyesight.

Was this real?

Natalie was bowing to him?

Was she trying to lure him into a false sense of security before sucker-punching him in the jaw?

But the familiar scents of the racetrack—sawdust, horses, sweat—kept his senses grounded. Hastily, he gathered his thoughts and said,

"There’s no need for this! Pardon my bluntness, but this isn’t a situation where the Redfields are entering this marriage in submission."

"I just felt I had to say it at least once. I only have one sister in this world, and I want her to be happy."

The word happiness weighed heavily on Tristan’s chest.

Would she really be happy in this marriage?

‘I don’t even have the right to ask that question.’

He had never endured even half of the patience Doris had shown.

Then, Natalie lifted her head, and her sharp gaze turned piercing.

"Your Highness usually acts so full of confidence, but now you’re hesitating. Did you do something wrong to Doris earlier?"

"I did not."

It wasn’t a lie.

He hadn’t done anything wrong today.

He had just been wrong for a long time.

"And since Lady Natalie has been brave enough to be honest, I’ll be honest as well."

After ensuring they were alone, Tristan forced himself to say the words that had been nagging at him like fish bones in his throat.

"I don’t know if I’m capable of making her happy."

"...."

"But I can promise you that I will do everything I can—"

"Your usual overconfidence is gone, huh? Even if you don’t do your best, Doris will be happy. She’s been looking forward to this marriage."

"...What?"

"Why do you look so shocked? Doris says it all the time."

"That’s... true, but..."

Isn’t there a difference between looking forward to a wedding and actually being happy in it?

‘What does Natalie know that makes her so certain? She’s the person in this country who dislikes me the most.’

Before he could ask further, a roar from the crowd and the announcer’s shrill voice interrupted them.

"Ahhh! Blue Axe! A massive collision with Brutal Ruby! Brutal Ruby is unable to get back on track!"

Brutal Ruby.

A champion horse that had achieved a Triple Crown last year.

As expected, the initial gasps of horror were quickly followed by the shouts and curses of those who had just lost their money.

"No way! Get up, damn it!"

"That horse has lost its damn mind!"

As the announcer hurried to calm the crowd, reminding them this was a royal event, Natalie gestured dismissively.

"Go on ahead, Your Highness."

"...Right. I hope you have a pleasant time, though I doubt your neighbor in the next booth will make that easy."

Natalie chuckled.

Tristan felt the weight in his chest grow heavier as he walked away.

For a brief moment, he wondered—does she really intend to marry my brother, despite disliking him so much? Or is this just my brother’s delusion?

But he had no time—or reason—to dwell on his brother’s future. The thought was quickly pushed aside.

Meanwhile, Natalie watched his retreating figure, sizing up his strengths.

"He’s got broad shoulders. If Doris gets frustrated, she can punch him and he’ll hold up fine."

Of course, compared to his countless flaws—his personality, his temper, his infuriatingly handsome face— it was like trying to make drinking water by adding a single drop of ink.

But there was one decisive reason she couldn’t oppose this marriage.

"Tristan, you said this isn’t a marriage where the Redfields are submitting."

"Maybe on paper. But the most important fact remains unseen."

"She likes you."

At the beginning of the season, during the count’s manor ball, Natalie had heard something horrifying while dancing with Arthur.

And after that, no matter how much she prodded Doris, she never got a denial.

What greater weakness could there be in a marriage than this?

"There’s so much I want to say to Doris..."

But Natalie swallowed down every nagging thought that surfaced.

Doris had always been someone who followed her own path.

If Natalie wanted to say anything to her, she first needed to put her own affairs in order.

On the day she had received news of Tristan’s injury during her vacation, Doris—despite having enough on her own plate—had suddenly asked her an unexpected question.

"Sister, what do you like to do?"

At first, Natalie had laughed and given the obvious answer:

"Parties, dancing, and men who worship me, of course!"

But before she knew it, she had been drawn into a surprisingly serious conversation.

By the time they had reached a natural conclusion, Doris had said,

"Sister. I can’t promise a 100% success rate, but... do you trust me enough to take a leap of faith?"

A leap of faith.

Of all the words she had heard during that vacation, that was the one she liked best.

Revisiting that memory, Natalie strode down the racetrack corridor toward the VIP section.

Not as luxurious as the royal booths, but still well-maintained and elegant.

Inside, a man sat with his face buried in his hands, sighing heavily.

"Brutal Ruby has sunk..."

"Honey. You bet big on that horse, didn’t you?"

"...It was an exceptional horse, the kind that only comes once in ten years!"

"So you bet a lot, didn’t you?! Honey, how much?!"

Before the Countess of Redfield could shake her husband into confessing, Natalie slipped between them.

"Mother, Father. I came because there’s something I need to tell you."