Tristan is a pathetic supporting villain.
That was how he was portrayed in the original.
A character who prided himself only on the innate advantages of his appearance and status, incapable of understanding that his advances could be perceived as violence by others.
But, if I take a step back from the perspective of the original protagonists… I might see a more multi-dimensional character.
Wasn't it possible that what seemed like a mere obstacle blocking the window from inside the room could actually be a tree with its own history?
Regardless, I…
"I want to know what could possibly hurt someone like you, whose skin I thought was three centimeters thick."
The carriage, clattering as it moved forward, soon came to a halt in front of the Redfield manor.
I had planned to disembark without waking Tristan, but he, sharp as ever, opened his eyes first and prepared to get out.
"Your Highness? Are you planning to visit the manor?"
"Why would I? Do you want me to?"
He always manages to tack on an irritating remark.
Then, standing outside the carriage, he extended a hand to me. Oh, he's offering his hand to help me down.
Such a rollercoaster of a man.
As he wished, I gracefully took his hand, using it lightly for support as I stepped out of the carriage.
"Thank you for today, Your Highness."
"Of course. Just looking at the number of plates you emptied, I'd have known."
I expected him to spew nonsense like this. This rollercoaster dives straight through the mantle.
Unbothered, I continued.
"It's not just about the food. I appreciated the chance to think about what I enjoy after such a long time."
"Are you talking about colors?"
"Yes."
The first two months had been spent adjusting to life as a lady, and after that, I was consumed with keeping up with the original storyline. My only joys had been the most basic of pleasures, like desserts.
But now… I think I know.
"My favorite color is the shade of the sky reflected on the lake you took me to today."
"…"
"I really enjoyed myself."
Though I said something nice, I wasn't expecting much in return.
Given Tristan's personality, I figured he'd reply with something disheartening, like, "Why would someone who always stays in her room care about lakes?"
But after a brief silence, what came back wasn't a response.
It was pressure—a tightening grip on my hand.
Like tree roots desperately searching for water.
It was only then that I realized we were still holding hands.
"Oh… Um, Your Highness. I'll head inside now!"
Flustered, I tried to pull my hand away.
Tristan moved his hand as well, but not to let go.
Instead, he lifted it.
Above the silk glove, his lips lightly brushed my hand.
The contact was fleeting, but Tristan's breath and voice lingered slowly over the back of my hand.
"…We'll meet again, right?"
"Of c-course!"
"Good."
Still holding my hand, he gazed down at me before stepping back. His silver-blue eyes eventually curled into the triumphant smile I knew well as he moved away.
"You must be tired from going on such an ill-suited outing. Go rest."
There's the Tristan I know.
At last, my hand was free. Without a single glance back, he turned on his heel and climbed into the carriage.
I was certain he was grinning smugly.
"Ha…"
I could feel the warmth spreading across my face.
Why is my face like this from just a kiss on the back of my hand?
No wonder Tristan found me amusing!
It was a response befitting the one-track-minded heroine of the original story, but for some reason, I felt frustrated and muttered angrily to myself.
Even so, strangely, I didn't feel bad.
A monster had appeared in the Blue Atrium.
This news was likely first reported to the royal family.
The royal family must have sent messengers and soldiers to the Blue Atrium. At that point, the news of a "monster outbreak" could no longer remain a secret.
Rumors spread slowly among the nobility.
"Tristan won't be able to claim the Blue Atrium, will he? Surely it'll go to the ducal house."
"The influence of Duke Frosthill and his heir will grow even stronger."
Naturally, the Redfield couple began to torment me.
The countess's eyes sparkled.
"Dory. At the moment, you're the person closest to the young duke, aren't you? This could be your chance to become the mistress of Frosthill and the Blue Atrium!"
"Closest? I've only met him twice—once while dancing, and once while visiting him in the sickroom."
"There are plenty of ladies who haven't even danced with him once! And you received a gift when you visited, didn't you? I'm sure you made a big fuss about how grateful you were."
…I rated it 2 stars.
Damn it. All I've ever done when alone with Arthur is give him dating advice. Do you know how his eyes light up when he talks about Maria?
But I could not go around revealing someone else's love story.
"Mother. I…"
She already knew what I was going to say.
"You're going to start with that 'My fiancé is His Highness Tristan' nonsense again, aren't you? I've heard it all before! I'm sick of it!"
"..."
"Why do you have to be the only one loyal to that arrangement? Over the last five years, he's been smiling and dancing with every lady except you! Do you think one outing makes up for that?"
Mother bit her nails.
"This isn't the time to be dawdling. We need to act before all the other ladies swarm the young duke. Keep your schedule open this Saturday!"
"What? What time on Saturday?"
"All day, of course! You'll prepare for the party during the day and dance at night!"
What's so "of course" about that? I have to go to the Sacred Salon that day!
'The hunting competition is just around the corner. They're definitely going to be placing bets on it at the salon this Saturday.'
In the original story, this year's hunting competition turns into a complete disaster. No one but me would be able to predict the outcome.
I could make three coins easily! If I can't participate, it'll be a total waste!
"Mother, can't we choose another day? This Saturday is really urgent."
"The hunting competition is close. You need to get close enough to the young duke to at least receive a deer from him!"
"..."
"No lady has any hope if she doesn't receive something from the hunting competition. You've heard that too, haven't you, Natalie?"
The arrow was shot at my older sister too. Natalie, lounging on the sofa, shrugged her shoulders.
"I received two deer and three foxes last year, but hope didn't exactly materialize."
"That's because you asked for a wolf! Anyway, this Saturday, I'll invite the young duke and all the eligible men within reach. Show your sincerity toward your mother's efforts, will you?"
"..."
Natalie tilted her head mockingly, a smirk tugging at her lips. Mother, busy holding onto me, didn't notice.
"Natalie will do fine on her own, but Dory, what about you? You've been dressing modestly like a royal fiancée, but if you want to catch someone else's eye, you'll need something flashier."
"It's not like I dressed modestly to act like a royal fiancée. I just didn't feel like putting in the effort."
"How proud you must be of that! Anyway, let's go look at your wardrobe. If there's nothing suitable, we'll have to alter one of Natalie's dresses—"
"No."
Natalie interjected coldly.
"Why should I give her my dresses? Once they're altered, I won't even get them back. It's not my fault my sister is so small."
"Natalie! Can't you show even a little generosity? This is for your sister's happiness!"
"Well, if you ask Dory whether she'd prefer 'eating caramel alone in her room' or 'being surrounded by ten handsome gentlemen arranging dates for the next month,' she'd pick the first option without hesitation."
Correct.
The second option sounds like something out of a social experiment on YouTube. Just imagining it is terrifying.
'Thanks for lying for me, sis!'
Mother could never win an argument with Natalie. She already seemed at a loss for words and shook her head.
The problem was that the countess's persistence was stronger against me.
"Dory, let's look at your wardrobe."
But if we did that, she'd discover the dresses Natalie had given me!
No way—I need those for the Sacred Salon!
Just as Mother placed her hands on my shoulders and Natalie stood up for me, a maid approached with a large box in her arms.
"Ma'am, a dress has arrived from the 'Aston Designer Atelier.' It's for Miss Dory. Did you order this?"
"Aston Designer? Are you sure you heard that right? The last time we ordered from there was for the debutante ball."
The maid placed the box on the table. The deep violet velvet box had the atelier's name engraved on it, with a tag bearing my name attached.
Mother gasped at the sight of the label.
"Oh my, it really is from Aston Designer. They don't take just any order. Who arranged this?"
Natalie and I watched with curiosity as Mother opened the box. The moment we saw the exquisite dress inside, I knew who had sent it.
"His Highness Tristan…?"
The dress was dyed in a graceful shade of blue, as if a piece of sky and water had been stitched together. It was like the lake I had seen not long ago, captured in a box.
Mother soon found a card beneath the dress.
"It's true. 'From Tristan Winter Albion to his fiancée, Dory Redfield.' Dory, did His Highness say he'd send you a gift?"
"No."
"Then how did you know it was from him?"
"…Just a feeling."
There wasn't any logic to it. Even I thought, "Why would Tristan send me a gift?"
But my heart was fluttering, skipping with excitement.
I carefully ran my fingers over the dress, as if touching snow for the first time. It was soft but didn't melt away.
It wasn't an illusion—this was a real gift!
Natalie let out a low whistle.
"What's gotten into the prince? Did his runaway sanity finally come back?"
Could it be? Has he come to his senses earlier than in the original story? Is this okay?
"Mother…"
I turned to see her reaction. Surprisingly, her expression wasn't as pleased as I had expected.
"Dory. Do you think it'll fit you?"
"Just a moment… Wow, I think it's roughly my size!"
"The measurements from your debutante ball must still be on file at the atelier. How odd to care about that now."
"Mother?"
"Well, at least your dress is settled. Wear this for Saturday's party. We'll go out to buy accessories in the afternoon."
"Mother."
"What now?"
Something about her tone made me uneasy as I asked my next question.
"Will His Highness Tristan be at the weekend soirée?"