“Oh my, His Highness is asking Miss Maria to dance again. At a party where his fiancée is watching no less, how shameless.”
“If this goes on it could start some scandalous rumors. Shouldn’t his fiancée do more than just watch?”
The noblewomen openly gossiped while glancing in my direction.
Towards me, the third Prince’s fiancée, and the body I had possessed, Lady ‘Dori Redfield.’
Of course, they weren’t saying it out of goodwill.
They probably wanted to see some hair-pulling, dopamine-filled drama.
But the only show they’re getting is a madeleine mukbang.*
See here, madeleines that would’ve cost 3,000 won a pop at a café in Seoul, are disappearing at a rate of 6,000 won!
However, the noblewomen refused to give up their chatter.
“My oh my, Maria accepted the dance? She pretends to be reluctant, but she’s clearly acting like a sly fox. At this rate, she might really steal him!”
She won’t.
I leisurely sipped my tea and admired the handsome man and beautiful woman who’d just begun dancing.
The beauty’s name: Maria Meyer.
Beautiful and kind, yet strong-willed and etcetera etcetera. She’s a typical rofan heroine, slightly old-fashioned and all the rarer in this era.
And the one dancing with her is my betrothed…
One of the noblewomen spoke deliberately loudly enough for me to hear:
“Well, someone of His Highness Tristan caliber would want a beauty who won’t be outshone when at his side.”
As she said, the man with striking silver hair was Tristan Winter Albion.
A name shared with a knight from <The Legend of King Arthur>, tormented by unfulfilled love.
Maybe the name suits him. At first glance, he looks like one of those ‘classic cold-looking second-male lead knights, who hide a passionate unrequited love.’
In reality, he’s neither cold, nor harboring unrequited love, not a knight, and not even a second-male lead.
You know, he’s the type of guy who shows up in every romance.
The pathetic side character who clings to the beautiful female lead, relying on his status and wealth.
That’s Tristan’s role.
Usually, characters like him either get knocked around by the main lead or second-male lead and fade into irrelevance, or, in some extreme cases, they die.
In this novel, Tristan ends up—
“Dori!”
“…Sister.”
My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
I turned around to see Grace, Dori’s (this body’s) older sister, standing there with an angry expression.
“It’s been a while, Sister. Have you been well—”
“My health’s fine. But seeing you like this makes my heart sink.”
“Sister…”
“This is the fourth dance now. Have you danced with His Highness even once during that time?”
“No.”
“Do you think you will?”
“No.”
“You’re too honest!”
“I couldn’t lie to you, Sister.”
“Haah…”
Grace glared at the true culprit, that prince.
After several requests to dance, the bastard finally got to dance with Maria, and wore a triumphant smile, as if he were showing off a trophy. My sister ground her teeth at the sight.
“I know he’s not fond of this engagement, but to disgrace his fiancée so openly!”
“Sister, I’m really fine. I don’t even like dancing. I’m sure His Highness knows that as well.”
“Oh, Dori! How kind you are. How did someone like you end up born into House Redfield?”
Grace pulled me into a tight hug. I couldn’t breathe for a moment, but the warmth was welcome. So this is what familial love feels like?
But the sentiment vanished three seconds later, with Grace’s whisper.
“Dori. Kindness is good, but an engagement isn’t just about you. Do you know which family that country bumpkin dancing with the Prince is from?”
“The Meyer Barony?”
“To be exact, she’s a distant niece of the Baron. In the past, someone like her wouldn’t even have been allowed to debut in society. And if a daughter of the Redfield County loses her fiancé to such a girl, what do you think will happen?”
Though phrased as a question, it wasn’t really one.
She meant I shouldn’t embarrass the family and should hold onto the prince.
Of course, I only had one thing to say:
“It’s all right, Sister. His Highness will return to me.”
“Aaah! You’re too kind, it’s a sickness, a sickness!”
Grace raised both hands as if to tear at her own hair, but quickly picked up her fan when she noticed the gazes of the surrounding noblewomen. Her voice lowered, but was still brimming with irritation.
“Dori! If you and His Highness had been longtime lovers, I might understand, but you’ve only met a handful of times during this drawn-out engagement!”
“That’s true.”
“Then what are you even trusting in?”
The original story.
“I trust in His Highness.”
“…I’d sooner believe Father will finally do well deer hunting this year than trust His Highness Tristan.”
Grace looked as if she might cry.
Just then, the music that had filled the hall came to an end.
Tristan, moving as if he were cut from a manual on courtly etiquette, escorted Maria back to her table and slowly turned his body… and in that moment, our eyes met.
I briefly thought, if he had even a speck of conscience, he’d at least look sheepish.
That bastard has no conscience.
He didn’t even look at me for 0.1 seconds before whipping his head away.
Hey, are you protesting right now? I’d look at dog poop on the street longer than that!
Tristan acted as if nothing had happened and returned to a nearby table to pick up a glass of sparkling water. The elegant way he moistened his lips reminded me of a wolf relaxing after a successful hunt.
So is this him announcing with his entire body that I don’t even exist?
Dude, you’re never getting the female lead.
Grace sighed.
“Whew… Dori, I’ll be going now. I have to dance the next number with my husband.”
“Alright. Thanks for the advice.”
“Don’t just say thanks. If you keep floundering like this, I’ll have to tell Mother too!”
Grace stomped away, huffing.
A short distance away, her husband greeted Grace. With a smooth, fluid escort, Grace smiled brightly and took her husband’s arm.
Even if it’s a marriage of convenience between nobles, if you can find a partner that you resonate with, it doesn’t seem so bad.
My only problem is that my life partner’s already been decided.
I heard the voice of that partner-or-nemesis from afar. He was speaking loudly to a friend, clearly intending for me to hear.
“How was the dance with Miss Meyer, you ask? I’m not so shameless as to evaluate a lady’s dancing skills. …You say there’s a lady I should be more mindful of? Did my mother attend today’s ball?”
That was clearly a dig at me, you shameless, conscienceless bastard.
But still—Tristan Winter Albion, the Third Prince.
No matter what garbage comes out of your mouth, you’re marrying me next year.
Because that’s what the original novel dictates.
It all started two months ago.
Late winter. I was fired from my night librarian position of 3 years—or more precisely, three 11-month contracts. I had believed the library director’s promise to hire me as a full-time librarian, and missed the contract window for other libraries.
As I was unpacking my bag after returning home with my soul crushed, an old book tumbled out. I must’ve accidentally taken it with me while doing repair work.
I couldn’t return to the library, but I should at least send the book back.
But looking closely, the book had a rental shop barcode instead of a library barcode. And it was from a rental shop that had gone out of business long ago.
It seems someone had mistakenly returned a book they bought from a closed rental shop along with their library books.
How could a book’s life get so tangled up?
A book that couldn’t find its place anywhere, and would be discarded even if returned to the library…
Something about that hit close to home, so I rubbed my tingling nose a few times with my finger and opened the book. As a reader, I wanted to prove that its life as a book wasn’t over yet.
So, I began to read the tattered book published twenty years ago while making minor repairs. In the process, I failed to notice that the aging boiler in my studio had shut off…
…And when I opened my eyes, I had become a noblewoman who was an extra in that very novel.
The plot of the novel was simple.
A man and woman who were once childhood friends meet again as adults in the capital. The male lead, the future Grand Duke of the North, and the female lead, a noblewoman of low birth, are drawn to each other but—we can’t be together, we’re from different worlds—but I love you, let’s get married—the end.
With all the cliché seasonings: a knight second-male lead, a villainess after the male lead, and a handful of male side characters flirting with the female lead.
The Third Prince, Tristan, is one of those side characters, who gets beaten up by the knight second-male lead in the latter half of the story and is forcibly reformed. In the epilogue, he’s summed up in a single line about how he married the fiancée who had been waiting for him.
That ever-faithful fiancée is me, Dori Redfield.
‘It feels like the author slapped that in as an afterthought.’
Why do some authors insist on ending with a ‘couples for everyone’ fest?
Anyway, the one thing I know for sure is this, even if the Third Prince flirts with Maria throughout this season, he ultimately marries me.
“Haa…”
Ugh, it’s so frustrating!
What use is a man whose only asset is his face and whose bad personality is set in stone? So what if he’s a prince? He’s just a freeloader living off taxpayers! In a society based on primogeniture, there’s no guarantee a prince who isn’t heir to the throne will lead a secure life!
But it’s not like I get a choice.
‘At least it’s not a bad ending.’
I should just be grateful that I’m getting a decent-looking husband.
As I was working through a year’s worth of madeleines—which in real life, I could only afford two of on payday—someone called my name.
“Dori Redfield! This way, dear.”
It was the voice of my chaperone—my Aunt, who came along as the Lady’s advisor and supervisor.
She’d gone off saying, ‘Dori’s so well-behaved, she doesn’t need supervision,’ and wandered off to gossip. Is she done now?
I turned my head with a polite smile, and then…
“…Your Highness?”
Next to Aunt stood the most unwanted guest.
My future husband, Tristan.
From the look on his face, like he’d just bitten his tongue mid-meal, it was obvious he’d been dragged here against his will.
And even now, he was desperately avoiding eye contact. How consistently unpleasant.
Aunt let out a cheerful laugh.
“Dori, you tried so many times to approach His Highness today but failed, didn’t you? I felt so sorry watching it all unfold, so I went and brought His Highness to you.”
I never approached him! I appreciate the sentiment, but please don’t lie so horribly!
My aunt didn’t forget to praise the Prince while she was at it.
“There are always people surrounding His Highness, so shy little Dori must’ve found it hard to step in. I’m just so grateful for Your Highness’s kindness in coming to her directly!”
From behind Tristan, Aunt’s eyes bulged at me. I could almost hear her unspoken words:
‘Act happy! Even if you’re not, at least pretend!’
“…Your Highness, you’re here.”
I opened my fan, the savior of all those who can’t act, and shielded my face. Meanwhile, my aunt quietly backed away.
And so, in the midst of a suffocating awkwardness,
Only Tristan and I remained, facing each other across a table.
How many seconds will this expert in accumulating bad karma last before he runs away today?
💟 Translator Notes 💟
“먹방 (mukbang)” is like a food eating competition and unboxing had a baby. Typically it’s where someone livestreams themselves eating a huge amount of food, while reviewing it and interacting with their followers.
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