~Tpmma 02~
Chapter 2
Surprisingly, Tristan sat quietly across the table.
Perhaps it was because this was an arrangement made by adults. Despite his discomfort, there was a faint sense of empathy in the way he maintained his manners—
“Hah… let’s not waste each other’s time.”
…Before I could react, the prince cut off my thoughts.
Our eyes met only briefly. He seemed not even to want to show me his face, slumping back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. All I could see from my eye level were his elegant jawline and the rough curve of his neck as he spoke.
“Doris Redfield. Do you remember the first time you heard about our engagement?”
“Was that five years ago? I think my parents mentioned it during a meal.”
“I remember the exact time and place. Around 5 PM, returning from the training grounds, I happened to meet my uncle. He casually said, ‘Tristan, have you met Doris Redfield? I mean your fiancée.’ Every part of that sentence was completely unfamiliar to me.”
“……”
“Arranged marriages without the will of the parties involved are common. But isn’t this a bit much? Even now, five years later, I sometimes recall it and feel a pang of frustration.”
Oh… that must have felt like a sudden blow.
I felt a moment of sympathy for Tristan.
But he quickly shattered my fleeting compassion.
“If at least the other party had been beautiful, I might have felt like I’d received a pleasant surprise. But this… sigh.”
“……”
He compares me to a gift box—flashy on the outside but filled with spoiled potatoes. What nonsense.
Then he waved his hand dismissively and added:
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying you’re unattractive. A lily-type lady isn’t my taste, that’s all, so don’t overthink it.”
Huh, a compliment? Did he think better of his words?
…Just as I thought that, he continued with more nonsense.
“However, I worry that the moment you stand beside me, you might not even look like a lily, but rather like a mere tuft of grass. Everyone has their proper place, after all, right?”
I almost punched him.
But no. I can endure this!
I survived countless library oddballs, didn’t I?
I endured the nonsense of the old man who said, “I came to nap but can’t sleep. Read me the book the librarian is holding,” even though I could have ‘accidentally’ dropped the hardcover Ulysses on his foot!
As I silently calmed myself, Tristan tilted his head slightly, gauging my reaction.
“……Are you listening, Doris Redfield?”
“Of course. I always pay attention to what Your Highness says.”
I’ll listen.
Just ignoring the nonsense.
Tristan continued, looking a bit uneasy.
“Anyway, I don’t consider our relationship a formal engagement. From the start, it wasn’t really our story, and nothing has progressed since, has it?”
“Yes, I heard that too.”
Originally, the Redfield Count intended for the most beautiful of his three daughters to marry the first prince. But as arranged marriages rarely follow plans, it was loosely concluded that “someday” the third daughter and the third prince might be married.
Even now, with me at twenty-one and Tristan twenty-three, nothing has changed.
The royal family doesn’t care, and the Count doesn’t mind whether it works out. The engagement is merely a chain visible only to the third prince himself.
Sighing, Tristan said:
“Let me make it clear. Even if this ball goes until dawn, I will not ask you for a dance. Perhaps not even at the next one, or the one after that.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Don’t harbor unnecessary expectations… wait.”
Tristan paused mid-sentence, eyes widening.
“Doris Redfield. Did you understand what I just said correctly?”
“Yes. You meant that the words exchanged as a jest by our parents carry no binding power like a normal engagement, didn’t you?”
“I suppose… yes.”
“I’m glad I understood correctly. Of course, I can’t nullify this engagement without our parents’ permission, but I hope my life won’t hinder your freedom, Your Highness.”
“That means—”
“I will wait for the decisions of both our parents and Your Highness. Until then, please live freely today, without worrying about me.”
Build up plenty of embarrassing memories.
After all, you’re destined to marry me.
Later, I’ll watch with popcorn when you apologize for all of this.
Tristan’s expression stiffened, unaware of my thoughts or future. Now that I was facing him properly, his eyes were a silver-blue. Too beautiful for a pathetic antagonist, they trembled with a hint of embarrassment.
“I… I doubt it, but let me ask you honestly—answer truthfully.”
Huh? What’s he going to ask?
I clenched my fists without realizing it. Then he asked:
“Is there another man in your heart?”
……I almost punched him. Seriously?
“Of course not! What are you saying, Your Highness?”
“How am I supposed to understand a fiancée’s words to ‘live freely’?”
“Don’t misunderstand. I mean them literally. I respect the decisions of the royal family and my parents, and I only wish not to dishonor the prince I deeply respect.”
“……”
“This is the wisest choice I can make. Truly, please don’t worry about me. I’ll stay quiet.”
Yet Tristan’s face showed he was extremely concerned.
Ah, why? That doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly repent and act nicely!
Not that he’s some significant love rival, just a pathetic supporting character.
“Anything more to say?”
Go bother Maria already.
Tristan seemed like he had more to say but finally stood up without a word. My view was blocked instantly by his broad form, which smelled faintly woody, like a library, rather than the expected scent of his image.
A fleeting moment of flutter.
He turned and said:
“…Understood. If you don’t wish to dance with me, then don’t look at me with longing anymore.”
Ahh! That mouth!
I’ve never looked at you longingly! You probably misinterpreted my occasional disdainful looks!
While I was speechless in disbelief, he strode away.
Ugh!
How am I supposed to live facing someone like that?
Feeling suffocated, I reached for a madeleine again.
But the moment of rest didn’t come. Behind me came a deep sigh. It was my aunt.
“Doris… Why has Your Highness already stood up? Have you been saying nice things again?”
“Huh? I can’t say anything mean, can I?”
“Mean words? Sometimes you need to say you want to monopolize him a little!”
I got goosebumps.
That’s cruel to my mental state!
While my aunt lamented, “Will you go home without dancing even once? How will you face your parents?!”
I saw Tristan briefly glance back at me from the hall, then sharply turn his head away.
“Doris Redfield!”
Calling a child by their full name when angry is universal.
Above my thoughts, my father, Count Redfield, unleashed his fury.
“You didn’t dance even a single song with His Highness? How did this happen?”
“Your Highness…”
“Excuses! I bet you followed the tail of some beauty. Didn’t you at least try? Even grabbing her arm once, she would have yielded and danced!”
“……”
“Hah. If you can’t win with looks, then at least compensate with wit or persistence. What did you learn from your sisters?”
The Count pointed to a portrait on the wall, showing his three daughters smiling.
Grace, Natalie, and Doris. Easy to memorize in alphabetical order.
The leftmost is Grace, whom I met at the party. She’s the nicest of the sisters but now married, rarely seen.
“Grace was loved by everyone. Seeing she became a baroness, she must be smart.”
The middle is the striking beauty, Natalie, with red hair and intense eyes.
“It was a shame her engagement with the first prince fell through. But he must have regretted it too—losing such a beauty!”
“……”
“Natalie will get an excellent husband. I’m certain of it!”
The Count’s eyes gleamed greedily, as if seeing a treasure rather than his daughter.
That miserable dream will never come true.
Natalie is the villainess in this story. She’ll fail to secure the northern duke for herself, humiliated, and end up in a convent.
The Count finally looked at the portrait of the third daughter.
Amazingly, it depicted the original me, Kim Doremi.
When I first possessed this body, the third daughter’s face was ghostly, but as I adapted, it transformed into my own. My presence influenced what had been a minor character defined only by hair and eye color.
Honestly, I was pleased with my looks, though the genre’s exaggeration made comparisons unavoidable.
The Count sighed.
“You’re not ugly… but don’t take comfort thinking I’m being gentle because I’m your father.”
“……”
“And you don’t know how to beautify yourself, nor have clever wit or dancing skills… I’m worried about you. Don’t take offense, but listen.”
I had a feeling this was going to be unpleasant.
And his words exceeded my expectations.
“How about a convent?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you keep acting foolishly like now, you’ll be abandoned by His Highness and become a laughingstock in society. Worse, our entire family will be embarrassed!”
“……”
“Better to leave society gracefully before being abandoned. You can invest your dowry in Natalie instead.”
“Father…”
I wanted to stay silent like the original Doris, living obediently, but this was really irritating.
Talking about investing in daughters?
“…And if my investment succeeds?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“If I marry Prince Tristan, what would you do for me, Father?”
