Something important?
Don’t tell me this asshat who’s always running his mouth without a filter can actually distinguish between something ‘important’ or not?
Something must be seriously wrong.
My hands tensed a little with nerves. What the hell had he come all the way here to say?
“Alright, whatever it is, you have my undivided attention.”
“Do you know what Blue Atrium is?”
“Of course. Isn’t it a northeastern territory with no current heir?”
“And that it was land meant to be given to me?”
“…Yes. It was never officially stated, but I’d heard it was basically guaranteed.”
“I won’t need to explain as much then.”
Tristan gripped the teacup in front of him so tightly his fingers turned white, and then slowly opened his mouth.
“Demonic beasts have appeared in Blue Atrium.”
I know that!!
But how am I supposed to react?
I should just mirror how the Count’s maids had acted.
“Oh my, is that so?”
“…You don’t look very surprised.”
“It’s hard to be scared when I know nothing about them. Other than the fact they’re monsters infused with northern mana. Oh, and I heard a knight came back covered in blood.”
“Yes. That was the knight I sent to scout Blue Atrium.”
Huh?
Tristan… sent someone to scout? He actually did something akin to work?
Technically, it’s not even his territory yet, so this is more like homework than actual work—but still, shocking either way.
While I was reeling from that off-target shock, Tristan continued talking.
“Don’t repeat what I’m about to say. Not that you have any friends to tell anyways… well, maybe you do. I won’t assume.”
“…R-Right. Please go on.”
“Based on the knight’s injuries, the damage to his armor, and other signs, the beast appears to be an aggressive type, likely covered in hard, scale-like plating. Soldiers trained for combat against people would struggle against it.”
“You seem to know quite a lot. Have you fought demonic beasts before?”
“I haven’t, but Frost-Hill sends annual reports on demonic beast encounters. I inferred all this from the latest documentation.”
Tristan actually reads reports…? And, infers things…?
Today was just full of surprises. One preconsception crumbling after another. I’m seriously starting to wonder if I’m dreaming right now.
Tristan’s voice grew heavier and more serious, until he finally reached his main point.
“Because of this, His Majesty will likely entrust Blue Atrium to the Grand Duke of Frost-Hill. The Young Duke will manage it for a while, and once things stabilize, it’ll likely be absorbed into Frost-Hill.”
“Is that confirmed?”
“…No. But it’s about as likely as snow in winter.”
So basically 99%.
“I see.”
“Exactly.”
“……”
“……”
The conversation stalled there. Tristan had apparently said all he had wanted to say. He was holding his teacup expressionlessly, but with a harsh clack, returned it to its saucer without taking a sip.
Like someone who’s delivered bad news and was bracing for your reaction.
Uhh… What am I even supposed to say here? I already knew, so I don’t feel anything new!
“D-Do demonic beasts always show up unannounced?”
That was the best I could do—and it came off super tone-deaf. Tristan blinked at me, puzzled.
“What, do you expect them to blow a trumpet before attacking?”
“That’s not what I meant! I was wondering if the lord of the territory noticed any warning signs before your knight was attacked.”
“Oh.”
Tristan shook his head.
“When demonic beasts appear, there are typically signs. Sinkholes in the mountains, dead apex predators. There were rumors among the farmers… but it seems Blue Atrium’s current lord deliberately kept it quiet.”
“Then he’s unfit to be a lord. This isn’t something that’ll go away by hiding it!”
“He probably wasn’t interested in solving it in the first place.”
“Pardon?”
“That spiteful old man probably wanted to see me suffer after blindly inheriting Blue Atrium.”
“Ah…”
Yeah, that tracks.
Considering the way that old-geezer scrambled to track down his bastard after kicking him to the curb, this kind of petty revenge is completely on-brand.
And thanks to that, I now knew how to respond to Tristan.
“That’s such a relief, Your Highness! You could’ve ended up with such a dangerous territory.”
“……”
“And with the Young Duke currently in the capital, the handover should be smooth—Your Highness?”
Tristan was staring at me, expressionless.
He didn’t look angry.
But for someone who always wore a cocky, smug grin, that expression looked—
Like a small part of him had crumbled.
“You really think it’s a relief?”
“…Are you upset about losing the territory you were expecting? Don’t worry. His Majesty will definitely find you something even better.”
“No. It’s something else entirely.”
“Your Highness.”
“……”
Normally, I would’ve snapped by now. ‘What the hell is the actual problem?’ or ‘Why are you talking in riddles?’
But right now, things feel off—enough to shut my trap and just wait for whatever Tristan would say next.
This peaceful teahouse, the pancakes we ate in private, and this new expression on Tristan’s face.
This always-elegant, always-arrogant man now seemed to look strangely desperate, and hurt…
“…I guess… I just wanted you to believe in me.”
“Pardon? What do you mean by that, Your Highness?”
My brain short-circuited.
He thinks I don’t believe in him?
There couldn’t possibly be anyone in this entire empire who’s said ‘I believe in His Highness Tristan’ more than I have!
“I’ve always believed in you, Your Highness! Think about it—at every ball, I’ve always waited for you as your fiancée! I don’t care if you never govern a single inch of land!”
“No, forget it. Don’t mind me.”
Don’t mind you?! You dropped that and expect me to just ignore it?!
I really want to pinch his damn cheeks, but—no, deep breath. Be a lady. Be a proper lady.
I stared hard at Tristan.
But by then, his face had already returned to its usual self. Composure reflecting in his beautifully eyes and he narrowed them at me.
“Did you enjoy the food?”
“…Yes. Very much so.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Tristan smiled.
“Just one question.”
I tensed. That tone. That setup. He’s absolutely about to ask something dramatic.
If it’s one of those ‘Would you still love me if I were poor?’ test-questions, I am not confident I could hold in my cringe.
But what he asked was—
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re repeating yourself a lot today. Am I using too difficult of vocabulary?”
“Objectively speaking, no.”
“Hah. Good. So your answer?”
“Hmm… I like sky blue. Especially the kind that looks a bit mottled, like it was painted in watercolor.”
“I see.”
“Why are you suddenly asking about colors?”
“Curiosity.”
“……”
“My business is done for the day. From here on, we’re only handling yours.”
Tristan pointed at the menu. I guess that was his way of telling me I could eat as much as I wanted before we left.
But my appetite had already vanished.
Only to be replaced by an ever growing list of questions I wanted to ask.
And the biggest one was—
“Your Highness, you’re not… sick or anything, are you?”
Because you’re acting like a sinner on your deathbed!
Tristan looked at me like I’d lost my everloving mind.
“I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?”
Because you don’t look fine. Especially not mentally.
“It’s nothing. I’m just glad that you’re well.”
“If I ever feel like collapsing, you’ll be the first to know. So, what are you ordering next? It doesn’t appear like you have any plans today either.”
Ugh! The second I start to worry, you go right back to being an asshat!
But yeah, he’s technically not wrong. And since I’m the kind of person who values profit over pride, I picked up the menu and declared:
“That’s right! Then, I’ll have the pancake with raspberry jam, blueberry compote, and a lemon tart on the side!”
After this, I doubt I’ll be able to look at another pancake for at least two months.
Honestly, after polishing off the two, I was already full. But I wasn’t about to act like the kind of lady who orders food and leaves it untouched, so I forced every last bite into my stomach.
Which is why, on the carriage ride back, I couldn’t utter a single word.
Luckily, Tristan didn’t say a word either.
Although he did throw some shade.
“Such an idiot.”
He said it while looking out the window, but I’m 99% sure that was directed at me.
All I could do was cradle my food-baby and stare at Tristan’s profile.
As the carriage rolled along, a beam of afternoon sun lit up his face. He closed his eyes, casting long lashes over his cheeks. He looked like a large stoic deer.
…This is weird.
Until now, I’d only ever seen Tristan surrounded by people. Looking down on other men at parties, smirking at ladies, acting proper yet arrogant around high-ranking nobles…
Basically, he never really seemed to enjoy just talking to people, more like he was always posturing, no matter who he met.
Back then, I just pegged him as an obnoxious prick.
But now that I think about it…
‘…Wasn’t that exhausting?’
Suddenly, I was curious.
Tristan, what kind of person are you, really?
In the original, Tristan was just a petty second-string villain who bothered the heroine. Nothing more, nothing less. And that made sense—Maria and Arthur’s love story didn’t need anything else.
But maybe there’s more to the ‘annoying af 3rd prince who chases after hot girls’ than meets the eye?
‘You really do learn something new every day, today especially.’
Sending scouts to Blue Atrium. Reading reports. Making inferences.
Choosing a delish café just to break some important news to your fiancée…
…Hey, Tristan.
“Your Highness.”
I whispered in a voice so soft it barely moved my lips, my words muffled under the clatter of carriage wheels.
I mentally asked him my question.
Tristan,
What do you like?
…No.
That’s not the question I really wanted to ask.
‘Why did you look so hurt earlier?’
Tristan.
What are the things… that cause you pain?
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