"Are you asking if I have soone I like?"
I did.
The very woman you’ve been worshipping for the past thirty minutes, calling her beautiful, kind, gentle, radiant—Maria, of course!
Rick hid his crooked smirk behind his glass and played along.
"Haha, this isn’t exactly the kind of conversation grown n usually have over drinks. I don’t think I even had these kinds of talks when I was fourteen."
Arthur nodded with a bittersweet expression.
"It was the sa for . Back in my adolescence, the only discussions we had were about survival. A soldier in the family died in battle, a relative got attacked by monsters while mining mana stones, a food warehouse collapsed in an avalanche… things like that."
"……."
"So, to be here now, having survived this battle, sitting with you and talking about sothing as trivial as daily life—it feels like a dream."
"Ah, I see."
"Would you mind if I talked about Lady Maria a little more?"
"…Go ahead."
"Thank you. Actually, before I left for this campaign, Lady Maria gave a gift—a hand-embroidered handkerchief."
"…Would the embroidery happen to be a bear with horns?"
"Daisies, actually. Since my departure was rather sudden, I didn’t even get the chance to properly inform her, let alone expect a gift. And yet, she still managed to hurriedly embroider sothing for . I was grateful, of course, but what truly moved was how adorably shy she was when she gave it to …."
Damn it.
Why did this bastard have such a pleasant voice and perfect enunciation? Every single word sank into my ears with irritating clarity.
Rick chewed on the rim of his glass, trying to let Arthur’s words pass in one ear and out the other.
‘Damn it. I might as well get drunk…’
But ever since that blackout at the Sacred Salon—where he'd drunk too much and blurted out nonsense to Dori—the idea of getting completely wasted terrified him.
Eating instead? Out of the question.
After all, sitting right across from him was the living, breathing appetite suppressor known as Prince Tristan.
And, as if on cue, the prince casually tossed out another infuriating remark.
"You don’t look particularly cheerful, Rick Ray. Did you recently get rejected by a woman?"
Arthur imdiately shut his mouth.
"Oh, my apologies. I shouldn’t have said that. How careless of …."
Arthur! Don’t suddenly act like you have tact! That just makes it worse!
One man with no tact and another with too much. The idea of tossing them both into a barrel and shaking them around did nothing to improve Rick’s mood.
But he wasn’t about to sit there, getting alternately pumled by Arthur’s well-aning kindness and Tristan’s pointed jabs.
Instead, he pulled at the oddity he had noticed earlier.
‘Tristan has a fiancée too. And yet, while Arthur was showing off his handkerchief, he didn’t say a word. Just sat there, frowning.’
Could it be…?
Had Tristan received nothing from his fiancée?
A small, petty satisfaction sparked in Rick’s chest.
He didn’t care if it was low of him. The slight buzz from the alcohol only fueled the fire.
"Rejected? Not at all! I happen to have a woman with whom I share a rather pleasant relationship."
"…Oh?"
Tristan and Arthur both turned to look at him. Arthur, eager to recover from his earlier blunder, leaned in curiously.
"What kind of lady is she?"
"Well… she’s soone I always enjoy being around."
"Oh, that’s wonderful."
"More than anything, she’s intelligent and insightful. Every conversation with her is stimulating—intellectually, I an. Even when she’s pointing out my own narrow-mindedness."
"That’s impressive. Usually, in a romantic relationship—no, especially in a romantic relationship—being criticized isn’t exactly enjoyable."
"But she always explains things reasonably. And it never feels like she’s looking down on ."
"Maybe it’s because you really like her, Rick," Arthur said, hitting Rick’s ears like a slap.
His face grew hot.
"Th-That’s… I an…"
"Haha, looks like I was right, doesn’t it?"
"I-I never thought about it like that!"
He had always assud that the reason Dori’s words left him speechless was simply because she had a knack for hitting the nail on the head.
But now, an image flashed through his mind—Dori, without her mask, her usual gentle eyes gleaming with smug amusent as she looked down at him and said—
"Rick, are you an idiot?"
Damn it.
The mont he imagined it, his heart started pounding.
No way…! Why the hell am I getting flustered over this?!
His ears were burning.
Arthur, watching him, bead with warmth.
"Rick, it sounds like you and your lady have a truly wonderful ti together. Have you discussed marriage?"
"We haven’t gone that far. Unlike nobles, commoners don’t have arranged engagents, so we’re just enjoying our ti together for now."
That was when Tristan interjected.
"Enjoying your ti? Ah, right. You’ll be heading back ho after this season. Without any obligations, you can take what you want and leave without consequence."
Where the hell was this bastard getting that idea?
Rick suppressed the urge to groan.
"I never said I had no obligations. And just like marriage and responsibility aren’t the sa thing, love and marriage aren’t either."
"But doesn’t love eventually lead to marriage?"
"Usually, yes. But plenty of marriages exist without love. …Especially among nobles, where parents often force them into unions for political gain."
Ah. He had said it.
But there would be no better opportunity to bring it up.
You, too, were forced into an engagent you didn’t want, Tristan.
A filthy deal between the royal family and the Redfield Count. Until earlier this season, Tristan had been infamous for neglecting his betrothed.
I don’t know what suddenly made him start acting like he cares, but…!
Rick took another sip before continuing.
"Of course, political marriages are still marriages, and couples can learn to live as partners. But whether that’s superior to a union based on love… well, that’s debatable."
"……."
"Oh, but I wasn’t referring to you, Your Highness! Hahaha. I’m sure your fiancée gave you a wonderful gift as well?"
"Of course."
Tristan answered imdiately.
But unlike Arthur, who had proudly pulled out his handkerchief with a beaming smile, Tristan clenched his jaw as he spoke.
So it wasn’t anything worth boasting about, huh?
Considering his personality, there was no way he wouldn’t show it off if he could.
Rick sharpened his words into a blade.
"And what was it, Your Highness?"
"A hairpin my fiancée used to wear."
"Oh! So… it wasn’t sothing she embroidered or made herself?"
"No."
"I see. I must be ignorant, then. I thought ladies who wished for their fiancé’s safe return always gave them sothing handmade."
"Well, as long as it carries aning."
"It’s all about interpretation, huh?"
Sure, that’s how you see it. I, however, do not.
Rick threw out another vaguely plausible statent and watched for Tristan’s reaction.
But the prince didn’t seem particularly shaken. His expression was slightly displeased, but overall, he appeared composed.
Does he actually believe Dori’s feelings for him are genuine?
Rick’s blood boiled.
Typical arrogance from a man who had been given everything in life.
But that can’t be it. Dori… she didn’t look happy when she talked about being unable to visit the Salon anymore.
Sothing more precise ford on Rick’s tongue.
No more circling around.
He would ask outright whether Tristan believed Dori loved him.
"Ah, nobles really are different from us common folk. If we’re uncertain, we just ask straight out—‘You like , don’t you? Do you have feelings for ?’"
"How crude."
"Of course, the setting matters. Maybe after spending a little ti alone in a scenic spot, leaning in, lips barely brushing—at that point, no one would say ‘I don’t have feelings for you.’"
"Who would be such garbage?" Arthur interjected.
"If it gets to that point, emotions should be clear. If soone still refuses to acknowledge them, they must be truly desperate to deny it."
"That’s why I call them idiots. Though usually, such idiots get slapped and learn their lesson."
Arthur nodded firmly.
"Even without experience in romance, I know this—people should be honest about their feelings! Which is why I always—"
"Yes, of course you do," Rick cut him off.
He wasn’t interested in Arthur’s idealistic nonsense.
Instead, he turned his gaze back to Tristan—
And noticed sothing strange.
The prince’s previously relaxed expression had begun to stiffen.
Like a man who had just realized there was a knife at his throat.
What the hell is that reaction?
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