“Really, I don’t know them! I’m hearing their names for the first time, and I’ve never even seen their faces before!”
“Sure, sure.”
Wow, that look screams, “Not buying it.” This is seriously unfair! I’d pass a lie detector test, I swear!
But hey, shouldn’t you two be explaining yourselves too?
I couldn’t stand their condescending “Let’s see how far this lie goes” glances, so I decided to fire back.
“Well, neither of you have explained why you’re here either.”
Both of them flinched simultaneously.
Looks like they didn’t expect the tables to turn.
“First of all, sis, you’d snatch away my dinner if you thought I was gaining weight. So why are you meddling with desserts at an outdoor event? Especially when you hate being under the blazing sun.”
“...I think I’m starting to tan. I’ll head back now. Enjoy yourselves.”
Natalie quickly retreated.
Next up, Tristan.
Preemptively defensive, he spoke up before I could.
“Ahem. What exactly are you implying? I’m a man who loves social gatherings.”
“Allow me to clarify that statement. As my sister mentioned earlier, Your Highness loves gatherings because they have ladies in attendance. So why are you here, at an event without even an official dance?”
“...Doris Redfield. I hadn’t realized it before, but you’re quite like your sister.”
“Well, we’ve hardly ever had long conversations, Your Highness. It’s only natural you didn’t notice.”
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It was a hastily made excuse, but it wasn’t untrue either.
Tristan couldn’t deny it.
And I wasn’t done pressing him.
“So, Your Highness, what brings you here today? Judging by your sudden appearance, it seems you stopped by my family’s estate first. Is there something urgent?”
“Well...”
Last time, he outright said he’d never dance with me.
So what now? What fresh garbage excuse did he come up with to show up here today?
But for once, Tristan’s infamous tongue of doom hesitated. Why?
“Your Highness, truly, whatever you say, I’ll be fine with it. My feelings for you won’t change, so please, speak freely—”
“...There might be a chance.”
“Pardon?”
“Really, maybe, possibly, on a very low probability... I might, someday, ask you for a dance. And when that happens, I came to say you shouldn’t feel the need to refuse.”
Not quite garbage, but maybe recyclable trash?
As I stared dumbfounded, he poured out more nonsense.
“That’s all I had to say. Don’t concern yourself with me anymore. Just as I won’t with you!”
Before I could ask anything else, Tristan spun on his heel and strode off. His silver hair glinted under the light filtering through the spring foliage, making him impossible to ignore despite his command.
What on earth was that about?
“Did his mom scold him for flirting with other women while he’s engaged?”
That seemed like the most likely explanation.
What a universally annoying guy. His personality’s so bad, even his looks can’t make up for it.
Part of me wanted to run after him and shout, “Let’s break off the engagement! So we can stop bothering each other for good!”
But—
“No.”
Someone like him is still a good catch.
I tried to calm myself by thinking of my ex-boyfriend back in the real world.
My first and last boyfriend was a regular at the library where I worked. He was a job-seeking graduate who caught my attention when he stepped in to mediate a fight between patrons cutting out articles from our newspapers.
He seemed so cool back then. But after we started dating, his true colors showed.
He’d say things like, “I want to study in peace, so can you open the library on your days off?” Or, “We could save money if you packed lunch for me too.”
When I finally confronted him, ready to break up, and asked why I had to take care of him, his response was:
“What, are you looking down on me because I’m unemployed? Says the part-time contract worker! You’ll never meet someone better than me!”
I don’t know what happened to that jerk afterward.
He might’ve been right, considering I had to hop between library contracts every 11 months after that.
But his words still echo in my mind.
“Someone like you.”
No matter how hard I worked, my worth was measured by my unstable job title and small paycheck.
“And here, I’m nothing more than the third daughter of the Redfield family.”
Someone like Tristan is out of my league. And he does get better in the future.
“Maybe I should just ask to punch him in the gut once.”
As I took a deep breath, the event host’s voice rang out.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed to the central garden! We invite you to enjoy the music we’ve prepared!”
I decided to head that way for a change of pace.
Now’s the moment when the main couple’s story begins!
The circus troupe scattered flower petals as the host introduced newcomers to the capital. But all eyes naturally gravitated to the male lead standing beside them.
People whispered.
“The Frost Hill viscount. He’s even more handsome than the rumors. Every lady in high society is going to chase after him.”
“Better they chase him than this. Look, some lady’s bold enough to approach him directly.”
“Well, she’s right to seize the chance. Who knows when she’ll see him again?”
A mocking voice joined in.
“And what will this season’s most reserved beauty do? Shall we place bets?”
Their gazes shifted to Maria, quietly sipping juice in the corner of the garden.
One by one, they joined in on the bet.
“No way she’ll miss this chance. She’s going to talk to him.”
“Not so fast. I bet she’ll pretend to bump into him and strike up a conversation.”
“I think the viscount will approach her first. A soldier from the north seeing a beauty like that? He’ll lose his mind.”
Every time someone spoke, giggles rippled through the group. So rude.
Caught in their gossip, I decided to speak the truth.
“Neither of them will say anything to each other.”
“Hahaha! No way! At the start of the season, everyone makes connections!”
Someone turned to me to argue, only to freeze mid-sentence and smile when they saw me.
“Oh, Miss Redfield! What a pure response—so typical of you.”
“Am I not allowed to be here?”
“Of course not! It’s just, your answer was so... well, innocent.”
Another chimed in with a laugh.
“It’s not surprising. Lady Doris was engaged before her debut, so she wouldn’t know desperation.”
“True! Still, Miss Redfield, you might want to learn how to win someone over—it could come in handy someday.”
The warm weather must have gone to their heads. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, they were getting far too cheeky.
But their chatter was cut short.
“Look, they’re about to cross paths!”
Everyone’s attention shifted.
Arthur and Maria, freshly freed from their respective conversations, were now walking on a collision course.
All eyes were on them.
They noticed each other. Their hesitant steps betrayed recognition.
I knew the truth. Arthur and Maria—childhood friends and first loves who shared warmth in the frigid north eight years ago—were bound to remember each other.
They would soon...
“...Huh? Why are they...?”
“They’re really walking away?”
“Not even a hello? Do they know each other?”
“If they did, wouldn’t she have greeted him? You don’t ignore someone from a ducal family.”
They didn’t get it.
Those two ignored each other on purpose.
The clueless gossips, frustrated by their failed predictions, started shifting the blame.
“Maria was rude! She should’ve at least greeted him.”
“She’s not a duchess yet. He’s still a viscount.”
“Still, as the lady present, she should’ve—”
“Excuse me.”
I cut them off.
“Debate all you like, but unless you ask them, you’ll never know. Isn’t something else more important?”
“What?”
“I won the bet.”
“...Oh.”
The group let out a collective sigh of disbelief.
“Miss Redfield, how did you—”
“Does it matter? Now, I’d like an apology for your earlier remarks.”
“Remarks?”
“You know, calling me naive and saying I needed to learn how to attract suitors.”
“Oh, we meant no offense!”
“Funny how those who gamble on others’ lives are so kind to themselves. Luckily, I’m not as naive as you’d like to think. But if you apologize, I might let it slide.”
Their eyes widened, not in admiration but shock. The once-docile Doris Redfield was acting out of character.
The neighborhood’s favorite punching bag was gone.
Not that I enjoy arguments. I’m not even sure how to fight properly.
But I know whose name to borrow.
“Can’t apologize? Then, as my dear sister Natalie Redfield would say—”
“Sorry!”
Before I could finish, the loudest mocker quickly bowed his head. The others followed suit, or slipped away while they could.
I memorized their retreating backs.
One of them asked hesitantly.
“Miss Redfield, how did you guess?”