Rick, are you secretly laughing at me?
Well, I don’t care. I’ll just keep doing what I need to do.
The sun was slowly setting, signaling it was time to leave.
As we stepped out of the tea house and waited for the carriage, Rick approached me and asked, “That charity concert—can anyone attend?”
“The front-row seats are prioritized for nobles. Not because they’re particularly special, but more as a way to share the pain of organizing it.”
“Haha! You certainly have a way with words. But you’ve been preparing the production quite seriously. It might turn out to be a surprisingly good show.”
“Well, who knows? If you’re interested, I could send you a ticket.”
“...”
The mouth that had been so quick to tease me clamped shut. Did I overstep?
“I didn’t mean you had to come. Did I put you on the spot?”
“That’s not it!”
“Oh, no need to explain. Once the tickets are ready, I’ll send you one by mail. If you really don’t want to come, you can just not show up and later claim ‘the mail must’ve gotten lost.’”
“...”
“Of course, Maria, I’ll hand your ticket to you directly.”
“I’ll definitely come!” Maria declared. A moment later, Rick mumbled hesitantly, “I’ll come too. I’ll keep that day free.”
As if you wouldn’t.
And so, our opera gathering ended on a fairly satisfying note.
After that day, I occasionally met Maria to watch plays and tweak the new lyrics.
Honestly, I wanted to see more operas, but I could tell Maria found the ticket prices burdensome, so I settled for alternatives.
But this wasn’t quite a case of “making do.” It was more like swapping a drumstick for a chicken wing.
In other words, it worked out.
“There are plenty of plays with lots of singing,” I thought. A Singspiel, maybe? Also known as a “singing play,” it was the predecessor of musicals. As I recalled, it was a genre born from a mix of rebellion against opera and the non-noble classes’ preference for lighter performances.
“Not all nobles are familiar with opera anyway.”
I’ll keep things light.
Everyone loves an easy and entertaining story.
“It’s not like I can create a full opera myself.”
Meanwhile, I naturally assumed Rick would join us on our theater outings.
But after the first day at the opera, he didn’t show up even once.
“Rick hasn’t been around lately. I thought he’d occasionally join us.”
“I heard he’s really looking forward to the charity concert. He said he wants to go in without knowing anything beforehand.”
“Wow, really? I’ll have to work even harder.”
Of course, I didn’t take that statement at face value.
I’d bet a gold coin that he won’t show up for the concert.
His apparent lack of interest in opera aside, the biggest obstacle for Rick was—
Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.
“Doris, it seems even Lord Arthur is looking forward to the performance. He mentioned his curiosity about it in a recent letter.”
Arthur’s very existence.
Maria’s face bloomed with a smile like a field of flowers as she said it.
“That’s wonderful. I’ll make sure to personally send him a ticket.”
“Thank you for thinking of it!”
Despite the original story’s plot veering so far off course, this couple seemed to be doing just fine.
Sigh. Well, as long as you’re happy.
“At this point, whether the main couple stays together or not, it doesn’t seem like it’ll have much impact on Tristan’s redemption arc.”
On the other hand, it might affect Rick’s path to going astray.
“Let’s hope he spares himself too much heartbreak.”
There was no future I could share with Rick anyway.
I could only hope he’d overcome his unrequited love in his own way.
Meanwhile, the ladies assisting with the concert preparations were delighted by my revisions.
“Is this the new script? Does this mean I don’t have to sing if I take one of these roles?”
“The songs are so much simpler now! ...But is it okay to make such changes?”
Instead of giving a definitive answer, I offered a gentle smile. “It’s only a few minutes on stage. Her Highness the Crown Princess said she wouldn’t mind such a brief change.”
“Her Highness said that?”
Although they hadn’t openly dismissed me before, their reactions clearly shifted at the mention of someone so high-ranking.
Even the ladies who had sighed over my amateur script just days ago now began to take my writing seriously.
It was a little irritating, but still a positive change.
“Feel free to suggest any improvements. I’m still studying and revising as we go.”
“For someone who’s still learning, this is incredibly engaging! I could barely grasp the meaning with just the abstract lyrics, but now I can follow the story.”
“I agree, Lady Redfield! The philosophical language was so hard to understand, and yet it’s just a love story... And our part is about noble ladies being jealous of a beautiful singer.”
The ladies collectively sighed in annoyance.
That part practically screamed, “Compare Pearl Snow to us.”
But that wasn’t something I could change. The overall narrative structure was already set, and rewriting it entirely wasn’t feasible.
...Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t options.
“I’m considering how to adjust the direction for that scene. Leaving it as-is would hurt our pride, wouldn’t it?”
“Adjust the direction? Not the script?”
“If we change the script, you won’t have enough time to memorize the lines. Adjusting the tone of the performance should bring about enough of a difference.”
Though they didn’t fully seem to understand what I meant, they nodded as if trusting me and returned to practice. A mix of pride and pressure washed over me.
“I have to do this well.”
For those who believed in me.
After an intense practice session, the ladies left one by one, looking much more confident than they had on the first day.
I, however, still had work to do. I’d booked tickets for another play to cram some last-minute research.
“Hopefully it’s a good one.”
I still had time before the show. Maybe I’d stop by the library for a bit.
“There’s nothing better than a library maintained by someone else!”
But just a few minutes after cheerfully crossing the hallway, my steps grew heavy.
I’d come face-to-face with an unwelcome figure.
“...Good evening, Your Highness.”
Tristan. My fiancé.
The same man who had cut his hospital visit short after ten minutes, saying he wasn’t even curious about my well-being.
He nodded at me.
“Thanks to you, I’ve been well. So it’s true that you often visit the royal library.”
“Ah, Her Highness the Crown Princess must’ve mentioned it. Yes, that’s correct. Are you here to look for a book...?”
Before I could finish speaking, he pointed his chin toward me—a gesture impossible to misinterpret.
“Were you waiting for me? What’s the matter?”
If he said something like “Does one need a reason to meet one’s fiancée?” I’d hit him with the thickest book in the library. No, that’s too weak. I’d slice between his fingers with the edges of every page in the book.
But Tristan came out with something far stranger than I could’ve imagined.
“Well... I was wondering if you’d like to have tea with me. Of course, only after you’ve finished your library visit and have some free time.”
I don’t have any free time for you.
Naturally, I had plans.
“Thank you for the sweet invitation, but unfortunately, I have prior arrangements at the theater and won’t be able to make time.”
“The theater? ...With whom?”
To my surprise, his question sounded genuine.
Why? So you can chase Maria if I say her name?
Maria had said he didn’t show interest in her anymore, but could I really trust that?
Luckily, I wasn’t meeting Maria.
“With my maid.”
“With your maid... Isn’t that essentially going alone?”
“She’s not there to serve me; I bought two tickets for us. Watching a play is much more enjoyable when shared.”
“An unexpected hobby.”
“That’s why, no matter how delightful a dessert you’ve prepared, I won’t be able to join you for tea today. My apologies for taking up your precious time.”
I gave him a graceful bow and began inching toward the library.
But Tristan followed, and just as I reached the door, he spoke again.
“Could I join you for the play?”