"What's going on there?"
"Are you watching to see if I'll kick the blanket off and leave?"
Tristan spoke just as I was debating whether to open my eyes or not.
"I've received the handkerchief you prepared. Don't worry about it anymore."
"What?"
My eyes shot wide open. How could I not worry about it!
"You received it? How?"
"I picked it up."
"...Wait, are you telling you got hurt while looking for my gift?"
I startled and tried to sit up quickly, but upon seeing his finger near my forehead, I buried my head back into the pillow.
Tristan shook his head.
"No."
"Really?"
"What do you think I am? If I got hurt because of you, I would have made you take responsibility no matter what."
Ah, yes.
As if he had said all he needed, Tristan moved away from the bed. However, even though he moved away, we were still in the sa room. The only thing between us was an empty bed.
Without showing any expression, Tristan spoke.
"However, the letter was unreadable. The ink sared."
"You... you found the letter too?"
"It was next to the handkerchief."
A wave of embarrassnt and relief hit at once.
I had written the letter when I was with the ladies, so it seed fine then, but now that I was out of that context, I felt so embarrassed!
Though I had filled it with nothing but polite words, at least it was unreadable, so I felt relieved...
"You can take your ti to write it again."
"...What?"
I was so surprised that I sprang up from the bed.
"Are you saying you want to write the letter again?"
"You understood that perfectly, so why ask again?"
"But that was a letter for the hunting tournant. If I write it again, the tournant will already be over..."
"It doesn't matter."
I paused for a mont and asked.
"Do you really want to send you a letter like that?"
"Of course not."
Tristan declared firmly.
"Though, it does seem very much like sothing you would do. Who would think to write a letter during a hunting tournant? You must feel anxious and desperate, like a woman sending her husband off to battle."
Was that a complint or an insult?
Well, it's not like I can't write it again, but it would be a bit embarrassing...
"If you don't want to, you could just tell what you want to say right now..."
"I've forgotten everything!"
"I was expecting to hear a more refined story."
"Ha..."
Why did I dig my own grave?
If I had just given him the handkerchief without overthinking it, our future wouldn't have changed!
What is he expecting from ?
'What should I write in the new letter?'
As I quietly thought about what to write, Tristan stopped bothering .
"I'll turn off the light."
Tristan quietly blew out the candle, extinguishing the fla with his finger.
All that remained was the lantern hanging at the entrance to the infirmary. Between the lantern and us hung a thick curtain, so even if I opened my eyes, I could only see a silhouette.
Screech...
It seed Tristan had lain down on his bed.
I thought he might scold for being awake, but he said nothing.
‘...’
Instead of his voice, I could only hear his breathing. Slow, irregular, and deep.
‘Is sothing wrong with him?’
His breathing sounded like he was struggling.
Should I ask if he's okay?
No, if I do that, we'll just end up bickering again, both of us raising our blood pressure.
‘Foolish Tristan.’
Why did he even go looking for my gift? It really wasn't a big deal.
‘...I’m the real fool, though.’
I should have thought about my gift earlier. If I had, I wouldn't have had to write that embarrassing letter, and Tristan wouldn't have gone through all that trouble.
‘But... did Tristan really get hurt looking for my gift?’
In the original story, Arthur goes out on a night hunt to break his nose, and returns covered in dirt in the early morning.
If he slipped while searching, it wouldn't be that strange...
My emotions imdiately said, "That's not it," and my rational thoughts followed behind them.
Tristan had co in earlier, after working. Wasn't he supposed to have been out for a night hunt at that ti?
What had he been doing?
While I was pondering alone, I suddenly felt Tristan's breathing beco steady.
Is he asleep?
I carefully turned my head, feeling like a spy.
His silhouette was illuminated by the faint light from outside the window. I could tell he had his eyes closed from the way his lashes glead.
Why does even his silhouette look handso?
The more annoying part was that he was fully aware of how attractive his face was.
‘If he were a Roman emperor, he would have minted commorative coins with his profile every year.’
If I were him, I’d probably curse but still keep a few stashed away.
I had these ridiculous thoughts as I slowly sat up. I pushed the blanket off and walked to the edge of the bed. Tristan was still lying there, and his breathing remained steady.
‘He's sleeping.’
Now's my chance.
I’d been lying here too long with this injury.
‘What if my sister finds out I had to stay in the royal infirmary? I can’t let her know about this.’
I needed to make an impression at the banquet soon.
I hurried, but when I stopped, I was standing not at the infirmary's door, but at Tristan’s bed.
I stood there silently, looking down at him.
When I finally stepped out of the backlight, I could see his face clearly. The strength I had felt earlier in his silhouette seed to fade.
‘He still looks strong... but also exhausted.’
He looked like soone who had worked all day and was finally getting a break due to an injury.
If he had been hunting all day, he'd be exhausted. But the expression of soone who has been tired from playing and the one who’s tired from work is completely different.
‘He looks like those librarians taking a break after working through the annual book reorganizing at the library.’
Every year, the library disposes of outdated books and reorders new ones. It sounds simple, but it's full of heavy lifting, organizing, registering data, and checking inventory... a perfect collaboration of physical and ntal labor.
That’s what it looks like when people take a quick break from working...
"Look at this. Even while sleeping, his brow is furrowed."
It's the trace of unfinished worries.
"Tristan. You lived the way you wanted in the original story. But why do you seem so troubled in front of ?"
What kind of person are you?
My curiosity grows.
I thought I preferred a man who could reflect on things over soone mindless, but now that I realize you're actually quite thoughtful...
I want to pat your head.
Just as that thought crossed my mind.
The strand of hair behind his ear fell, and I realized I had unconsciously leaned closer to Tristan—
Almost at the sa ti.
Tristan's eyes shot open.
"I don't know what you're watching, but is it interesting?"
"Ah!"
I jumped back in surprise. I couldn't run far because my back hit the infirmary screen.
In the anti, Tristan clicked his tongue and propped himself up.
"Is it amusing to watch soone in such a vulnerable state?"
"It's not like that! It's not interesting at all!"
"You've been staring at for quite a while for sothing that’s not interesting."
"Ah, no! How long have you been awake?"
"Since the beginning."
"...What?"
"I thought one of us should stay awake since there’s no doctor."
"..."
"Well, if you're bored, you can leave first. I thought it was about ti you were getting hungry."
Why does he always speak so smoothly, then end it like this?!
I couldn't argue with him, though.
I was hungry.
I quickly stepped away from the bed, worried my stomach might growl.
"I-I’m really fine now, so I’ll leave. I'll ask the maid to bring you sothing to eat, Your Highness."
"Alright. But..."
I could already guess what he would say, so I tried to leave quickly.
But his question ca faster than I could leave.
"Why were you staring at my face earlier?"
"..."
"You looked like you were studying a fever patient. Even though the injury is on my shoulder."
"Well, that's..."
I had no excuse.
I didn't even know the reason myself!
Tristan's breathing had been calm. I should have just left the infirmary without overthinking.
There was no need to stand there, pondering by myself.
"I, I..."
My face heated up.
I can't let this happen! I have to co up with an excuse! The longer I hesitate, the stranger it gets!
This is the worst.
If I’m not mistaken, during this uncomfortable silence, Tristan’s face seed to show so embarrassnt.
"Doris, answer ."
"Well... uh..."
In this awkward mont, it wasn't who spoke first.
It was Tristan.
With one side of his lip curling up as usual, the usual rude words flowed out.
"Is this so sort of sleep habit?"
"What?"
"Since you can't explain it logically, I thought maybe it's a sleep habit."
"That’s not—"
"It seems like this habit is unknown in the bedroom, but even the most graceful lady in the social circles has bad habits. Anyone would be surprised to hear that."
Each word he spoke dripped with annoyance.
Seeing you act like yourself feels oddly refreshing!
What kind of a big deal does he think this bad habit is, talking like he found a weakness?
I couldn't help but raise my voice.
"Don't worry. From now on, the only person who will learn about this habit in the bedroom will be you, Your Highness!"
...I expected laughter to follow after I said that.
Tristan doesn’t know we’re getting married.
But to my surprise, he was quiet.
He wasn’t ignoring . His eyes, wider than ever, were trembling helplessly in my direction.
His mouth was open, but he couldn't close it.
Sorry. I know I said sothing a bit inappropriate.
"...Well, I’ll go tell the maid to bring sothing for you to eat!"
I added the excuse and rushed out of the infirmary.
Ah, damn it!
I had been telling everyone else nonstop, "I’m going to marry the prince."
But why is it so embarrassing to say it directly to him?
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