He certainly ate a lot...
The scribe pinched his forehead for an even longer time before finally announcing he needed to verify the contents of the monster's stomach. He left his post, clearly exasperated.
Another scribe chuckled. “The rankings might shift completely at this rate. Surely you've imagined yourself leaving here wearing the laurel tiara, haven't you?”
Not once!
That was hardly my concern right now.
I grabbed the servant who had been about to leave.
“Is Prince Tristan all right? Has his examination finished?”
“Lady, please calm down!”
“I am calm! I just... no. There’s no need to ask more. He’s in the royal infirmary, right? I’ll go see him myself.”
The servant widened his eyes as if I’d said something outrageous.
“The royal infirmary isn’t a place just anyone can enter, Lady.”
“...Ah.”
I’d grown too comfortable after tagging along with Tristan to the infirmary last night. I’d forgotten that access wasn’t granted so easily.
My shoulders slumped, and the servant hesitated before leaning in to whisper.
“Don’t worry too much. His Highness walked to the examination room without assistance, and his face was uninjured. We didn’t hear any screams during the check-up, either.”
“...Thank you.”
No screams meant no broken bones, right?
That was a small comfort. I’d visit him once the event wrapped up and things settled down.
A short while later, the closing ceremony officially began, and the results were finalized.
“This year’s Queen of the Hunting Tournament is Miss Natalie Redfield! A round of applause for today’s radiant queen!”
The laurel tiara, which turned out to be even uglier than I’d imagined, was placed atop my sister’s hair. They must have designed it under the assumption that it would be given to a naturally beautiful woman, thinking her looks would compensate for the lackluster design.
But as Grace performed a graceful curtsy, even the crowd’s initial sighs at the unsightly tiara were quickly replaced with awe.
The next announcement came as no surprise—the winner of the tournament was Arthur Albion.
“Congratulations, Marquis!”
“Amazing skills, truly. I heard you barely used any beaters. Could you even take down a wolf pack alone?”
Arthur, ever modest, replied with a sheepish smile.
“It’s possible, but I wouldn’t attempt it often. It’s far too risky.”
“...”
The scariest people are the ones who take polite flattery at face value.
As for Maria, who had been gifted all of Arthur’s game, her chances of becoming queen were dashed for one simple reason: she had released every living creature she’d received.
That was so like Maria.
Ironically, though, her kindness had indirectly caused the monster incident.
The juvenile monster, which had been incorrectly imported, had hidden until the final moments of the tournament. It awakened into a mature form after consuming several injured animals—animals that were presumed to be the ones Maria had released.
The scribe, tallying my results, explained it succinctly.
“It seems the beasts the Marquis registered as his game were the ones Miss Maria later released. Those, in turn, were consumed by the juvenile monster.”
“So her kindness didn’t lead to the best outcome.”
“Indeed. We decided not to disclose this part of the incident to either of them.”
Naturally, I also had no intention of telling Maria. No good would come from making her feel guilty about it.
‘Instead, it would be more productive to suggest to Tristan that the tournament format be revised.’
On the other hand, Tristan didn’t win any awards at the tournament. Naturally, as he only caught one creature, and the animals found in the monster’s stomach were registered under Arthur’s name.
In terms of the tournament, neither of us gained anything.
Only from the tournament, though.
I overheard snippets of conversation from the crowd.
“Did Prince Tristan really fight a monster? Surely that’s exaggerated.”
“The guards say it’s true...”
“So that sword he carries everywhere isn’t just for show?”
It seemed Tristan’s reputation might shift slightly after this.
As for me—
“Lady Doris, your tea party was delightful. It made me reflect on parts of myself I hadn’t considered before. Would you perhaps host a similar event again?”
“I agree! It was such fun. Please let me know if you host another one.”
It wasn’t much, but the compliments gave me a small sense of pride.
Though it had only been two days, the hunting tournament had felt like an entire week.
In that time, I reconfirmed Tristan’s insufferable nature, witnessed him getting injured, experienced a butterfly effect that derailed the original plot, and now sat next to my sister, who kept placing her laurel crown on my head, telling me, “It really doesn’t suit you.”
Still, the compliments made it feel like I’d managed to end the tournament on a relatively positive note...
...Except, damn it.
I just realized something else infuriating.
I completely lost the Sacred Salon bet.
***
"And now, let’s summarize the hunting tournament! First, the honor of stepping in dung for the third year in a row goes to... Yes! Earl Redfield! Congratulations on your consistency! And next—"
The atmosphere in the Sacred Salon was electric.
Of course, it was. The tournament winners were practically predetermined. Arthur or Tristan for the victor, and Maria or Natalie for the Queen. Almost everyone had a chance to cash in a coin or two.
Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.
Except me.
I’m ruined...
In the original story, Arthur spent half a day trapped at the bottom of a cliff and couldn’t win the tournament. Naturally, Maria went home empty-handed, too.
The antagonists didn’t fare well, either. Tristan caught plenty but got disqualified because he stayed on the mountain past dawn, too obsessed with outdoing Arthur to return on time. Natalie, on the other hand, mistook a snake that came with her game as a gift, got bitten, and ended up in the infirmary.
Because of all this, unexpected winners emerged, and I was supposed to make a killing with astronomical odds on my bets.
But now? I got every prediction wrong.
And that wasn’t the only thing bothering me.
Tristan, who can’t even utter a half-hearted compliment but has no problem invading my personal space, refused my visit to check on him. Again.
When I asked the palace maid about him, I’d been hopeful at first.
“Yes, His Highness is recovering well! Let me check if he’s available to see you.”
But then, five minutes later:
“Ah... His Highness has stepped out. I should have informed you earlier. My apologies.”
This had happened three times now.
“Stepped out,” my foot.
It didn’t take much intuition to figure out he was avoiding me.
‘Judging by what the maids say, his health seems fine.’
At least there was that.
“Hah...”
How pitiful that I found solace in something so small.
It feels like an unrequited crush, only worse.
I don’t like you either, you idiot!
I sat in the corner of the salon, sipping a non-alcoholic cocktail. The more miserable I felt, the more I needed to stay sober. I didn’t want to end up like Rick Ray over there, sulking in his skeletal mask while drinking himself into oblivion.
Not today, Rick. I’m not approaching you for more depressing stories.
Instead, I tuned into the chatter around me.
With the hunting tournament over, people were still buzzing about what had happened. Next month’s summer festival didn’t have any major wagers, so for now, this was the hottest topic.
Most notably, Arthur and Maria’s budding relationship.
They’d only exchanged awkward gifts this time, but it was obvious their relationship would progress. The tension between them was unmistakable.
People’s reactions could provide valuable insight into how the story might deviate further. The more information I gathered, the better.
At the nearest table, someone said:
“...I heard Prince Tristan demonstrated unexpected valor.”
“Surprising. I thought that beautiful body of his was only good for dancing.”
Tristan. Nope. Not listening. Next group.
“Did he really fight a monster? Come on, it was probably just a large wolf.”
“No, no! My nephew swore he saw it. The thing’s mouth was as big as His Highness’s arm!”
Tristan again! Why do you dominate every conversation?! Next group...
“I caught a glimpse over a guard’s shoulder. Just seeing it made my legs go weak. How did His Highness handle that thing?”
By the time I prepared to move away from the Tristan-dominated conversations, a cold, measured voice cut through the din.
“Well, doesn’t this prove that he has the minimum qualifications to govern the Blue Atrium? Maybe the territory won’t go to the Marquis but stay with Prince Tristan.”
Huh?
That was an angle I hadn’t considered.
Come to think of it, even Arthur had praised Tristan, saying he quickly analyzed and neutralized the monster. If Tristan learned more about monsters, could the future take an entirely different path?
While I sat at an empty table, mulling over this unexpected possibility, I heard an irritatingly familiar voice.
“Ah, my beautiful lady.”
“...Yes?”
I looked up to find Rick Ray standing before me. His skeletal mask was slightly askew, his green eyes damp. Was he drunk, crying, or both?
“Why have you been avoiding me all day...?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“You’ve been moving seats every time I approach.”
That wasn’t because of you!
While I scrambled for a response, Rick plopped down beside me.
“Lady, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to ask you something...”
“That depends on the question.”
“I adore your sharpness, my lady... The world is so dull and vague, except for the things that pierce my heart...”
“Sober up and then talk to me.”
I stood abruptly, taking my glass with me, but Rick clung to my sleeve in desperation.
“Please! I must ask! Do you, by any chance, know Doris Redfield?”