Tristan bit the edge of his glass, recalling the first drinking party of January.
He had escaped the tiresome royal New Year's festivities and clinked glasses with his friends, shouting,
"This year, I'm finally breaking free from Dory Redfield!"
It didn't seem all that difficult. The engagement had been left unattended for a while now, so he figured that if he roped in a suitable noble lady and pushed things forward with her family, the royal family and the Redfields would abandon the engagement before it became more troublesome.
But as the social season began…
Something started going wrong.
Something he couldn't even bring himself to tell his old friends about.
Alex refilled his brandy glass and asked,
"What's with the look? Think the breakup will be tough?"
"…"
"I heard Maria Meyer finally agreed to dance with you. She probably doesn't have the guts to accept a prince, but with her beauty, she'd be perfect for stirring up a scandal to rattle your fiancée."
"No, that's not it."
With a sharp clink, Tristan's brandy glass hit the table. Only then did he continue, "Besides, it's still early in the season. Why ask? Has my story already become the talk of salons?"
"Can't say no to that. Everyone knows you're dissatisfied with your fiancée."
"Ha, now even friends sell me out."
"Maybe take a moment to recall how many times you sold me out to Her Majesty when you were sneaking into town back in the day."
"…"
Tristan finally chuckled.
Well, the glamorous lives of the royal family were meant to be both admired and scrutinized by all. He could afford to let them have this much.
"It won't take long for Maria to come around. Bet on my success."
"Sure, I'll trust you."
"But does that salon even allow rigged bets?"
"If Madam Abigail catches any scheming, you're out of the membership. But love isn't something you can plot, is it? Just like with your status, all you managed with Maria was one dance."
"…"
Clearly, this guy didn't believe Tristan could seduce Maria.
With a wolfish grin, Tristan replied, "Forget about those silly wagers. If I don't marry the most beautiful woman by next spring, I'll give you half my fortune and crawl naked to Redfield Manor."
"Won't you get shot when you arrive there?"
"Better to die naked than choose the worst marriage."
Their pointless conversation soon ended as another group of guests entered the club. Bored of card games, Alex was the first to leave.
A staff member placed a cigar and ashtray in front of Tristan before stepping away. But instead of smoking, Tristan simply clicked the cigar cutter, his mind preoccupied with a question he couldn't voice to Alex.
"Nothing happened for five years. So why has Dory Redfield's attitude suddenly changed?"
The parties involved in this engagement had always been consistently opposed in their attitudes.
For starters, Tristan ridiculed and detested the arrangement.
And why wouldn't he? The engagement was nothing more than the aftermath of a failed attempt five years ago, when the Redfield Countess had tried to marry her second daughter to the crown prince. A hasty compromise resulted in this farcical arrangement—a union of each family's surplus.
Whenever the engagement was mentioned, Tristan felt as though he were being told, "You're a royal nobody, irrelevant to the family's future."
Was his resentment unreasonable? After all, the very proposal was absurd, completely ignoring the will of those involved.
At 18, during the first dinner following the engagement, Tristan had resolved to break it off, even if it meant insulting the lady herself. But upon meeting the 16-year-old Dory Redfield, he couldn't bring himself to say anything cruel.
She looked like a fragile chick, trembling as if a mere sneeze could blow her away. How could he possibly say anything harsh to such a small and delicate girl?
So instead, he swallowed his harsh words, mumbling a half-hearted greeting.
But she wasn't as weak as she appeared.
For five years, Dory had lingered around Tristan. No matter how rudely he behaved, ignored her at parties, dismissed her invitations to tea, or neglected to send even a single robin during hunting season…
Like a lily with an unyielding stem, she steadfastly declared, "An engagement is sacred," always looking his way.
"Does she think she's some kind of nun?"
But playing hide-and-seek with a "nun" wasn't Tristan's idea of fun.
At the New Year's gathering with his friends, Tristan deliberately spoke ill of the engagement, determined to burn his bridges and finally end things.
As his first step, he had firmly told his fiancée not to expect any more dance invitations from him.
"Live freely," she had said.
Was that even possible?
He had expected her to respond with something akin to, "Do not speak lightly of engagements. The heavens are watching."
And then he would've retorted, "You sound like a nun. I can't marry a nun," and driven a wedge between them.
So why the sudden change in attitude?
He had no idea.
If you ask when it all started to change…
'I have a vague idea.'
It was during the spring tea gathering at the Redfield estate last March. His fiancée, whom he hadn't seen in quite some time, looked as if she had been dragged to the tea party like a stray cat—nervous and restless. She even made a series of small mistakes, enough for the countess to sigh openly.
And that day…
While the countess and my mother excused themselves to tour the garden, he was playing with the count's pet dog out of boredom, and the maids were busy adjusting the tablecloths blown by the spring breeze.
Dory Redfield, the woman hailed as the most elegant lady in the capital—
…suddenly stretched out her hand desperately, like someone saving a falling baby bird, to catch a meringue cookie that was about to roll off the table.
And then, she promptly stuffed it into her mouth.
'I couldn't believe my eyes.'
She reached out for falling food? Even though it didn't touch the ground, she actually ate it?
Right after, a gust of wind sent a napkin flying between us, shielding her from my view. She likely had no idea he had witnessed her blunder.
When the napkin storm settled, Dory sat there, feigning nonchalance, with a crumb of white meringue still clinging to the corner of her lips.
Even now, the memory is absurd.
A count's daughter, no less, and the fiancée of a prince—what kind of behavior was that?
'She always pretended to be the embodiment of etiquette. And yet, back then, she seemed kind of… cute….'
"Cough, cough, cough!"
Caught off guard by his own thoughts, Tristan started choking as the brandy went down the wrong way.
A server rushed over in concern.
"Are you alright, Your Highness?"
"I'm f-fine, cough!"
Tristan's throat felt like it was burning, but he couldn't bring himself to drink the water they offered.
If he did, he felt he might choke again—on something even more ridiculous.
'Cute? Have I lost my mind?'
Calling something so utterly ungraceful "cute"—what a horrifying thought.
'She's the furthest thing from cute.'
Her lackluster, carrot-colored hair did shine decently under the sunlight that day. Her typically stern green eyes had sparkled with a triumphant gleam when she caught that cookie, drawing his attention. And yes, the way her peach-like cheeks moved as she chewed that meringue—it's not as though he didn't want to pinch them at least once.
As her image formed in my mind, Tristan's heart started pounding faster and faster, like the feeling you get when recalling a ghost story.
He quickly came to a conclusion.
'The engagement has lasted too long. My body must be reacting out of sheer revulsion at this point.'
That must also explain why his heart thumped every time they locked eyes at the last party.
There was no way it was excitement. It must have been the agitation of trying to hide his discomfort, quickly turning away each time.
'Five years of being tethered. Enough is enough. Even Alex's teasing about me getting attached to her has to stop!'
For the sake of a better future.
Muttering this to himself, Tristan downed the rest of the brandy in one go.
Early April.
The debutante season had begun, signaling the start of the social calendar. Those with money hosted extravagant parties to expand their networks, and for ladies, attending as many of them as possible was both a duty and a privilege.
But for someone like me, who's inherently introverted and socially anxious, it was just a series of exhausting days.
Once again, I turned to my aunt, who was accompanying me as my chaperone.
"Auntie, His Highness isn't coming to this party, right? Is it really okay for me to attend such events alone, without my fiancé?"
"Of course it's fine. And if anyone asks you to dance, you must accept. His Highness should hear that you're not some unpopular wallflower!"
He wouldn't care about that at all!
And what if no one asks me to dance?
Before I could voice this self-esteem-crushing thought, my aunt sighed.
"Besides… you should use this opportunity to meet good men, just in case His Highness eventually discards you."
"..."
"Good luck, dear."
Her words left a faint sting in my chest, but she walked off to mingle with her friends right after. Did she come to help me or just to socialize?
Well, at least it gave me some peace of mind.
I made a beeline for the dessert table.
Of course, I wasn't just there to eat.
'Since I can't avoid socializing, I might as well adapt.'
Thinking back to some early modern European history books I'd read, I recalled the rules of etiquette and how the setting aligned with historical social structures.
First, I decided to memorize faces.
Near the entrance, a servant announced each new arrival. "Lord and Lady So-and-So, Viscountess So-and-So!"
Those close to the newcomers stepped forward to greet them, while those on bad terms tried to blend into the crowd. Watching the dynamics of these relationships was amusing in its own way.
Meanwhile, two dance songs had already changed, and a group of ladies, having just finished a dance, rushed over to the nearby tables, laughing and chatting.
Soon, gossip began.
"Dancing with an unpopular man is so awkward! He actually asked if we could share the next dance, too!"
"Oh my, how clueless. That's like asking, 'You're not popular enough to have the next one reserved, are you?'"
"Exactly! And to make matters worse, I really didn't have the next one reserved. But it's not like I couldn't get another partner!"
"True. Especially since neither Maria nor Natalie is here tonight."
Familiar names. The dazzling protagonist and her villainous rival sisters.
Curious, I perked up my ears to listen while pretending to nibble on a biscuit. They seemed oblivious to my presence and continued their chatter.