Tristan’s face turned even redder at my laughter. Did he really not think of that?
“Hahahaha!”
“...You’re laughing too much.”
“It’s just—Your Highness, someone as intelligent as you—ah, it’s just too funny that you really didn’t consider that.”
“I appreciate that you at least acknowledge my intelligence.”
“You were intelligent. I’m not sure how my evaluation will change after today.”
“Khmm...”
Tristan fanned his face with his hand. I handed him my retrieved hat, and he waved it around as a makeshift fan—only to be assaulted by a spray of water droplets still clinging to it.
I probably should have apologized.
But instead, another laugh burst out of me.
Just thirty minutes ago, his hairstyle had been a perfect embodiment of effort—the epitome of “I styled my hair today.” Now, it was completely ruined. He ruffled his damp hair in frustration before finally giving up.
“You still look fine, Your Highness.”
“My appearance is always fine.”
“....”
“But there are moments when it should be better.”
You have a way of rendering me speechless in every possible direction.
Still, seeing this side of Tristan—one that had been dunked in the lake, shaken up, and left slightly disheveled—was...
“...That moment is now.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Embarrassed after letting the words slip, I quickly opened my parasol again.
Under its gentle shade, I looked up. The August sun poured over Tristan’s shoulders, making him shine brighter than ever.
Arthur and Maria still hadn’t emerged from the hidden garden. While Tristan’s clothes dried, we lingered in the middle of the lake, away from any prying eyes. The distant chirping of birds and the occasional shadows of fish beneath the water made for a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere.
At least the most uncomfortable moment already passed.
Which meant it was time to bring up a lingering conversation from the charity performance.
“You asked me what I liked, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Hmm... but honestly, I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. You already know I like sweets.”
Whenever life got particularly miserable, I’d buy three or four expensive financiers from a dessert shop and shove them into my mouth with half a liter of milk.
But that wasn’t happiness.
The sugar rush was just a fleeting high—like a weak seatbelt slowing my inevitable crash.
So maybe I needed to ask myself, too—what was it that actually made me happy?
Reading is more of a way of life than a hobby, so that doesn’t really count...
What truly brought me joy?
“...You don’t have to force it.”
“Huh?”
“Touch your forehead. You’ve been frowning this whole time because of my question.”
I didn’t need to check—I knew he was right. My mind had completely plunged into the abyss of overthinking.
I should at least give him some answer. Maybe I could tell him my favorite book genre? But before I could decide, Tristan shook his head.
“Stop overthinking it. Besides, I already know.”
“You do? What is it that I like?”
“When I do something stupid.”
“...”
“That reaction says I’m right. You’re smiling again.”
“N-no, I’m not!”
But I was.
Even as I thought, You idiot, my lips had curled upward yet again.
By the time the sun was at its peak and my parasol cast a perfectly round shadow, Tristan brought up the one topic I had been expecting.
“Shall we talk about vacation? Have you made a decision with your family yet?”
I knew he’d bring it up.
I had my answer ready.
“We’re still discussing it. Since this will probably be the last vacation I spend with my sister... I want to take my time deciding.”
“I see. It would be best if you could give me an answer by next week.”
“Understood.”
Since it was a family matter, he didn’t press further.
Thank God.
But then, a question I hadn’t expected came out of nowhere.
“This is absolutely not because I doubt your character or relationships, but... are you close with Rick Ray?”
“...Not at all. The last time I spent any time around him was when Maria, the maids, and I went to see a play.”
And even then, we had argued the whole time.
I felt sympathy for him, sure, but in multiple ways, he was not someone I wanted to grow closer to.
“Why do you ask? Is it because I asked Maria about him earlier?”
“...Partly.”
“I was just being polite. He’s an important friend of Maria’s, so I was showing basic courtesy. Unless... did I do something that seemed suspicious to you?”
I swore I hadn’t done anything strange.
If Tristan suddenly said, Yes. You should be more careful about your behavior, then the problem wasn’t me—it was him.
I prayed that he wasn’t on the fast track to being an overpossessive lunatic.
Tristan finally answered, his voice slow.
“It’s not your problem.”
“Huh?”
“Ah. Look, the young duke and Lady Meyer are coming out. We should start heading back.”
“Your Highness. Did Rick say something that worried you?”
“Not at all. He hasn’t done anything to deserve getting grabbed by the collar. I’m just... overthinking things.”
That, somehow, made me even more concerned.
But the way he so definitively shut down the topic made it difficult to press any further.
I simply leaned back against the side of the boat, parasol in hand.
Somewhere between the rhythmic sound of the oars, I could have sworn I heard Tristan mutter, almost buried under his breath—
"I almost wish he had."
Arthur and Maria passed us as they rowed out of the hidden garden.
Maria’s cheeks were noticeably pink, and she was staring down at her feet. Meanwhile, Arthur—who was perfectly capable of rowing—was fumbling just enough to suggest he had been thoroughly distracted.
Well... at least things went well for them.
Which only left me to wonder...
What exactly was waiting for me inside?
As we approached the hidden garden, my thoughts were a swirling mix of anticipation and dread.
And then, finally, we arrived at the small dock, where only a single boat could fit at a time.
I had to physically swallow my laughter.
"What the hell is that heart-shaped decoration?!"
Beyond the dock, a massive heart-shaped wooden frame, painted bright red, stood as the entrance to the garden.
It looks like something a small-town tourism board would commission for $3,000 and call a day.
At best, it was simple. At worst, it was painfully generic.
I should probably keep a straight face, though. Maybe this is considered stylish in this era.
I glanced at Tristan...
And immediately knew we were thinking the exact same thing.
He exhaled sharply. “...Who the hell ordered this thing built? And who actually went through with making it?”
Turns out, we do have similar artistic sensibilities.
I couldn’t help but speak up.
“Exactly! If you’re calling it a secret garden, wouldn’t a more natural, rustic theme fit better? Instead, they slap this at the entrance and ruin the first impression.”
“I agree. You have a surprisingly good eye for art.”
This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.
“Maybe it’s all the art books I’ve read.”
The quality didn’t improve much as we passed through the heart-shaped gate.
The garden itself was beautiful—but everything beyond it had clearly been designed with couples in mind.
Still... it was entertaining.
And by the time we rowed back to rejoin the others, my face actually hurt from laughing so much.
“...That was the worst-designed park I’ve ever seen.”
“For someone who thinks so, you certainly enjoyed yourself.”
“...I can’t argue with that.”
The sun was starting to set. Maria waved from atop the bridge.
It was time to go.
And just then—Tristan’s rowing slowed.