Percival quickly pulled his lips into a smirk. But Tristan must have seen the sharp glare his brother had aid at the mont he returned to the booth.
Tristan practically rushed forward, nearly tripping over himself, and planted himself directly between and Percival, blocking my view of the older prince.
"Brother. What’s the matter?"
"Took you long enough to co back."
"It won’t happen again. Now, what business do you have with my fiancée?"
"Hah, already acting like a husband? I was just exchanging greetings, hoping we could get along. Right, Lady Doris?"
The last part was clearly directed at .
I couldn’t see his expression—Tristan’s back was in the way.
So, I simply imitated the twisted smile Natalie made when she was looking down on soone and answered,
"Yes. We were simply discussing our hopes for a happy future."
"You heard her, Tristan. Now step aside."
"……."
Tristan hesitated for a long mont before finally shifting to the side.
Percival and I exchanged strained smiles.
Then, Percival turned back to his brother.
"So, why did you step out?"
"My stomach was upset. I went to the infirmary."
"Oh? Was sitting next to your fiancée so exciting that your heart couldn’t take it?"
"……That’s not it."
"…You don’t have to answer seriously, like a damn child. Just sit down already."
Tristan glanced between and his original seat, hesitating.
…Wait.
Was he trying to swap seats with ?
If I moved, he’d sit between and Percival—as a literal wall.
Technically, the royal seating area was already spaced out, so a chair’s width didn’t make that much of a difference… but this would be a blatant provocation toward Percival.
‘That sounds fun.’
I imdiately took Tristan’s original seat.
Tristan settled in beside —now almost completely filling my field of vision.
I could hear Percival grumbling in the distance, but his voice was soon drowned out by another.
"I'm back, Your Highness."
"Ah, Natalie! Just in ti. To think I can share the emotions of this final stretch with you—truly, inviting you today was worth it! Please, sit. Are you hungry?"
Ugh. Disgusting.
I turned to the side.
Tristan was making the exact sa face as .
He looked visibly pained, as if he had just heard the worst form of fake politeness.
It was almost funny.
I nearly laughed aloud—
But sothing stopped .
Was I… finding Tristan funny?
Was I smiling because of him?
‘…Damn it.’
This was ridiculous.
‘I’m only feeling like this because I was annoyed at him earlier.’
I already knew he was a hypocrite.
I had zero expectations for him.
And yet…
The urge to laugh vanished.
anwhile, the race had reached its climax.
The announcer's voice rose with excitent.
"Two hundred ters to glory! This battle cos to an end—Solar Eclipse takes the lead! Today’s winner is Solar Eclipse, securing a clear victory by half a length!"
"Uwaaahhh!!"
The deafening cheers soon turned into applause.
The jockey, riding the brown horse, raised his hands in victory before bowing toward our section.
He was paying respects to the king and queen.
One by one, the royal spectators stood.
Tristan got up as well, clapping in a chanical rhythm.
"That’s our eldest brother’s horse," he murmured.
And as if on cue, the crown prince rushed forward to hand the jockey a bouquet himself.
For once, he didn’t look like a tired bureaucrat—just another excited fan.
The royal family’s horse had won.
That ant they had upheld their prestige.
Even the king and queen looked genuinely relieved, smiling.
And the crown princess…
When our eyes t, she smiled at .
Oh.
That look—I know that look.
It was the sa look I exchanged with my boss when a tedious monthly eting stretched on because of the higher-ups.
‘I see. So you suffer too.’
anwhile, Percival maintained a polite smile—until a servant rushed up and whispered in his ear.
His face imdiately twisted.
I caught the staff’s conversation as he hurried back out.
"Brutal Ruby’s injuries are severe. The owner is demanding compensation."
"Why now? Wouldn’t it be better to tell him after the event?"
"It’s better to break the news while things are chaotic. Do you really want to get blad instead?"
…Fair point.
Percival, who had lost his bet, had his horse injured, and now had to pay damages, could no longer fake a smile.
He was clearly seething.
Just then, Natalie reached out and tugged on his sleeve.
At almost the sa mont, the announcer declared,
"Now, the royal jockeys will line up before the royal family! Let us honor these warriors of the Saint Queen Stakes!"
As the crowd erupted into cheers, Natalie spoke—quietly, but firmly.
I couldn’t hear it.
But Tristan—who was standing just a little closer—did.
His face froze in shock.
"Your Highness? What did my sister say to him—"
I didn’t even need him to answer.
Because Percival’s mouth curled into a twisted smirk before—
He laughed.
Loudly.
Then, he grabbed Natalie and spun her into an embrace.
The queen, who had been clapping along with the crowd, turned in horror.
"Percival! What on earth are you doing?!"
Releasing Natalie, Percival grinned.
"Mother, I can finally formally announce it. The most radiant jewel of House Redfield has accepted her fate as my wife."
"Wh-what? Oh my, Lady Natalie. Is it true? Have you accepted Percival’s proposal?"
Natalie gave a shy nod.
The news spread instantly.
From the king, to the crown prince and princess—
And even the winning jockey, who, clearly catching on, knelt before Percival.
"Even on a day of my greatest triumph, Your Highness’s joy overshadows mine. Congratulations."
"Indeed. I agree with my jockey. The true victor of today is you."
By now, the announcer had also realized what was happening in the royal box.
"A glorious Saint Queen Stakes finale has co with even greater news! Prince Percival Winter Albion and Lady Natalie Redfield—may their future be blessed!"
The earlier scandalous collision had already faded from the audience’s minds—overshadowed by the thrilling final stretch.
With the golden sunlight, the pleasant autumn breeze, the flower petals being tossed from the rooftops, and the grand announcent of an engagent—
The crowd cheered and clapped, celebrating the perfect mont.
For now, no one cared about Natalie’s reputation as a social nace—
Or Percival’s status as an insufferable bastard among those who actually knew him.
Right now, they were just a couple to be celebrated.
"Even Marie Antoinette, who was despised for being Austrian, briefly regained popularity after giving birth…"
After the charity event scandal, I finally understood why the royal family had pressured Percival to marry.
When the applause began to die down, the king stepped forward, offering formal thanks on behalf of the royal family before officially concluding the event.
"Thank you for sharing this beautiful day with us. May fortune, granted by the divine, shine upon you all."
The ceremony was over.
The audience, now shaking off their festive mood, began heading toward the back exits—mostly to collect their bets.
And according to the original novel, right about now…
The Baron yer incident should have started.
Except—
Percival was too busy being sward by the queen.
"Percival, you’re finally becoming a real man!"
"Thank you, Mother."
"You made a proper proposal, didn’t you?"
"…I expressed my sincerity in the most honest way possible. Isn’t that what matters?"
‘Liar.
Your tongue is too long, you snake.’
Either way, another major plot deviation.
At this point, I wasn’t even surprised anymore.
At least my Sacred Salon bet was unaffected.
And more importantly—Maria and Arthur were already publicly dating.
And as for Natalie…
At that mont, the queen’s voice rang out.
"When shall the wedding be held? Given your brother’s situation, the sooner, the better."
Tristan and I snapped our heads toward her at the exact sa ti.
Reviews
All reviews (0)