A slightly mocking tone.
It was no different from Rick’s usual attitude. He was especially antagonistic toward nobles when he wore the Skull Mask.
But there was one thing that made me uneasy—
‘Rick. You’re going on that expedition too, aren’t you?’
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It might not just be sarcasm.
Just now, it sounded exactly like he was saying, I’ll make sure you don’t achieve any accomplishments.
“Hm. It almost sounds like you don’t want anyone to achieve anything significant.”
“Not at all! The people suffering from monsters deserve salvation. And if their savior happens to be the young lord of the future, then it would be an even more perfect conclusion.”
“...While the ones fighting monsters alongside him, tending to his horse, and cooking meals for the soldiers go unrecognized?”
“Ah.”
Rick’s eyes widened slightly. Then, as if a knot had come undone, he burst into laughter.
“Haha! This is why I like—cough, ahem. This is why I can’t help but see you as a good drinking buddy. You understand exactly what I mean.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t get your hopes up too much. I’m still a noble. I won’t be giving up this position with my own hands.”
Since I was already wearing the mask, I allowed myself to say something embarrassing.
Inside my head, I was still an ordinary citizen from Korea, but I had the sheer luck of being reincarnated as a noble. I wasn’t about to throw that fortune away.
Rick, don’t see me in a good light! It’s embarrassing!
“If necessary, I could even come up with nonsense like, ‘It’s ultimately beneficial for the masses if a single leader gets all the credit, as it ensures stable governance in the future.’”
“You must really hate being praised by me. Especially since you have no intention of actually making that argument.”
“Ah...”
“Let me say this again. I still think you’re an exceptional person.”
Good thing I was wearing a mask.
My face felt hot.
“...Don’t flatter me too much. It’s not like we’ll be close for a long time.”
“Huh? Why not? You don’t like hanging out with me?”
Rick dragged out the end of his sentence playfully. Why was he suddenly acting charming?
But the answer was obvious.
“It’s not a matter of liking or disliking. By the end of the season, I might end up married and living as a ‘lady’ tending to my household. There’s no guarantee I’ll keep coming to the salon.”
“And being married would stop you from coming here because...? Unless, of course, you end up trapped by a possessive husband who won’t let you take a single step out of your bedroom at night.”
“......”
“...Wait. Is your fiancé actually possessive? Ahem, that is, if you have one.”
“Haha! Well, who knows? I could have a fiancé. But I’ve never had a ‘possessive’ fiancé before.”
“...I see.”
“Of course.”
I smiled as I said it, but... the truth was, the reason I hesitated earlier was because of the look Tristan gave me in the dressing room on the day of the charity performance.
Not every man loves his fiancée.
But even if he doesn’t love her, he might still be possessive enough to want to keep her within reach.
I recalled Tristan’s expression—and how, even in that moment, I had found him beautiful. To shake off the memory, I changed the subject back.
“Let’s get back to the bet. ‘Will the third prince and the young duke achieve merit and return safely?’ That’s our wager, right? Two subjects, each with four possible outcomes. That makes sixteen possible choices.”
Tristan achieves merit and returns safely.
Tristan achieves merit but doesn’t return safely.
Tristan doesn’t achieve merit but returns safely.
Everything goes to hell...
Arthur’s outcome also has four variations, so all possibilities amount to four times four—sixteen in total.
“That’s a lot. Would you like to narrow it down, Skull Mask?”
“Then let’s focus on the prince. Choose one of the four options.”
“Hm...”
I knew the future.
Arthur would achieve merit and return safely. And around that time, Tristan, who was on the verge of losing everything, would make one last desperate move—approaching Maria in the capital, only to get beaten up by the second male lead.
But now, Tristan was joining the expedition to Blue Atrium.
Everything’s changed.
If I had placed this bet back in March, I would have gone with ‘Fails, returns safely.’
‘What? Tristan’s tagging along on Arthur’s mission? He’s obviously just going to be a hindrance, fail miserably, and get dragged off by monsters—only for Arthur to swoop in and save him. He’ll return in disgrace without accomplishing anything!’
But now I had seen what Tristan was capable of at the hunting competition.
That day, he didn’t just display bravery against the monster—he also showed leadership.
And even though no one was around to praise him, he took the initiative to oversee road maintenance for the safe progress of the event.
Tristan was a capable leader.
He would surely...
“Success... Ah, no, wait.”
I almost said, He will succeed and return safely.
But will he really?
Honestly! Lately, I had started seeing Tristan in a more favorable light. I had my reasons, but—
I need to consider whether I’ve been truly objective.
There was a chance I was being too generous just because I had grown somewhat attached to him.
“You said you listen to people’s opinions at taverns, right? What’s the general sentiment about the third prince? Has there been any good talk about his monster-slaying?”
Judging by Baroness Meyer and my parents, it seemed like Tristan’s reputation in high society had improved.
But the people who were actually with him in the field might have a different view.
Rick pondered for a moment before responding.
“Wouldn’t telling you put me at a disadvantage?”
“Ah, that’s true.”
“...Still, for you, Lady, I’ll share a little. First, they say he’s unbelievably arrogant.”
“Yes.”
“He has immense confidence in his swordsmanship. He did kill a monster and earn something to back up his bravado, but... his cockiness annoyed everyone.”
“I see.”
“He’s also difficult to work with. Commanders are supposed to issue orders and step back, but he insists on sticking around the front lines. They say he’s someone no one wants to work with—or be friends with.”
“I see! That’s really insufferable.”
Good! That matched exactly with my own impressions!
Rick’s eyes gleamed.
“He’s a real bastard, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I knew you’d say that, Lady.”
“Yes. He’s truly insufferable.”
He was a bastard.
The bastard fated to become my bastard.
Rick chuckled in satisfaction.
“So, have you decided?”
“Yes. ‘He will achieve merit.’ And... ‘He will not return safely.’”
“Hmm? I thought you’d bet on ‘He won’t achieve merit.’”
“He’s strong. He’ll definitely accomplish something.”
That part was easy to decide.
Tristan was strong.
And to add a slightly underhanded justification—
Arthur isn’t the type to hog all the credit.
If Tristan contributes even slightly, Arthur will definitely share the recognition.
Rick nodded.
“I see. The merit he earned at the hunting competition wasn’t a lie. Then why bet on ‘He won’t return safely’?”
“He’ll get himself injured from overreaching.”
“Hahahaha! ...Wait. Lady, you’re not planning to argue that even a tiny scar means he didn’t return safely, are you?”
How did you know?
...Well, that would be too transparent.
“Of course noot.”
“......”
“...If you’re worried, let’s define the terms. He must be at risk of death, suffer permanent bodily damage, or have a scar at least 10 cm long to be considered ‘not safe.’”
“...Hmm. Fine. Deal.”
Rick hesitated, then nodded.
Honestly, I believed Tristan would achieve merit and return safely.
But if my fiancé accomplished nothing, got injured, and I lost the bet on top of that, it would be too sad.
So I gave the wager a little twist.
“Then, shall we write up the bet contract?”
I raised my hand to call over a server.
Rick shook his head.
“There’s still one thing left.”
“Huh?”
“We haven’t decided what I get if you lose. I have no interest in coins, after all.”