Sudden outburst, huh.
I replied sarcastically. "If you stand up as if you're leaving but come back just to pick another fight, doesn't that only extend our conversation time? At this rate, I really might develop some kind of affection for you, even if it's the bad kind."
"…It seems the lady has the upper hand."
Rick stood up from his seat.
"I had a pleasant time today. Until we meet again."
"Yes. Have a safe trip home."
I waved him off with a smile, though he probably couldn't see it behind the mask anyway.
Hahaha. I sure talked a lot today.
Hahaha. Acting like Sister Natalie is so much fun. No wonder she seems to enjoy life so much.
Hahaha. This water tastes amazing…
'…Aaaaargh!'
Even if I try to think of something else, the words I said earlier keep echoing in my head.
Saying it's easy to grow attached to someone who irritates you but still sneaks you snacks?
'There's a limit to this sweet-and-salty nonsense! Think about the amount of salty insults Tristan has thrown at me. Does he really think a waffle or a get-well gift can make up for that?'
There's no sweetness or romance between us!
"Haaah…"
I suppose I should try to develop some attachment since we're going to get married.
But the idea of growing fond of that guy somehow feels like losing… Like I'm losing to someone like him… Not that there's anything inherently wrong with it, and yes, sometimes I do feel a little fluttery when I look at his face…
To cut off the endless train of thought, I eventually called the server.
"Excuse me! One gin and tonic, with an extra shot, please!"
In society, you should always question the rumors floating around.
A and B are said to be getting married? They probably just danced together once.
C's business is supposedly going under? The person saying it probably tried to get a free meal from C and got rejected.
Dory Redfield is bedridden after getting her foot stepped on by the young duke?
The Countess of Redfield probably exaggerated Dory's condition as an excuse to invite the young duke over.
'Dory Redfield got her foot stepped on three times and still managed to walk home. It's obvious the countess is overplaying things to set up the young duke with Natalie!'
Even knowing the scheme, Tristan still purchased a get-well gift for his fiancée and headed to the Redfield estate on Saturday.
Despite being busy investigating the monster sightings in the Blue Atrium, he figured he should at least confirm that his fiancée's already tiny feet hadn't gotten any smaller.
After carving out time in his packed schedule, he successfully knocked on the front door of the Redfield estate, gift in hand.
But the person who greeted him was the worst possible choice.
"Well, Your Highness, what brings you here?"
Natalie Redfield. The most beautiful and most insolent woman in the history of the Redfield family.
"I don't recall inviting you, nor receiving word of your visit. Are you here to cause trouble for the Redfield household, perhaps?"
"I heard my fiancée was severely injured."
"She's experiencing some discomfort, yes, but that hardly explains Your Highness's sudden visit. Perhaps you could make an appointment and come back another time?"
"Miss Redfield, have you never participated in the act of visiting the ill? Oh, my apologies if you've never had any friends to exchange visits with. However, projecting your own misfortune onto your sister and isolating her seems rather inappropriate."
"Why would my sister, who is well-loved at home, feel lonely? Surely you're not implying familial love is inferior to that of a fiancé's. Not that what you've brought today could even be considered 'love.'"
Tristan wanted to lock Natalie in a remote cabin in the woods. Perhaps talking only to squirrels and deer every day would temper her sharp tongue.
Of course, she was probably imagining stringing Tristan upside down from a pine tree in that same forest. He could see it in her eyes.
Still, their exchange—or was it verbal warfare?—unexpectedly came to a peaceful end.
Behind Natalie, Maria came running and called out.
"Please calm down! If Dory hears you two arguing over her, she'll be hurt!"
"Miss Meyer? What brings you here?"
"Oh, Your Highness. A belated greeting. I came to visit Dory as her friend. This is my escort, Rick Rey."
Maria smiled as warmly as possible, trying to smooth over the tense atmosphere.
Tristan suppressed his irritation as he acknowledged Maria and the man named Rick Rey.
"Rey? A name I've never heard. Not a noble, then."
He was a young man with a pleasant smile. However, the mismatch between his wiry, muscular build and his demeanor left an odd impression.
'He's clearly smiling, but somehow, his eyes seem to glare.'
Still, Tristan maintained his courtesy. He turned toward the interior of the mansion, but Natalie persistently followed.
"Dory has already had too many visitors today. The Meyers have just left out of consideration for her condition."
"…"
"I will personally convey Your Highness's concerns to her."
What a generous offer of "consideration".
She was being so insistent that it made him want to push back even more…
"Understood, Miss Redfield. Please relay my regards to my fiancée."
After all, she was the host and the patient's sister. Ignoring her wishes in front of the other guests wouldn't do him any good.
"I shall see you next time."
Tristan turned sharply, just barely managing to keep his retreat from appearing impolite. Only later did he realize he'd missed a natural opportunity to speak with Maria, but by then, he was already far from the estate.
"There'll be another chance. That brown-haired guy was irritating, anyway."
Maria quickly faded from his thoughts.
He planned to visit again late in the afternoon, but a letter sent by a subordinate from "Blue Atrium" held Tristan back.
[Restricted access to certain farmlands confirmed. Further investigation planned. The herbalist who served as the primary witness is missing.]
A sense of foreboding crept in. Tristan had to assign additional personnel just in case and spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the records of the area mentioned by his subordinate.
To awaken his tired body, he stuffed bread into his mouth and raised his head, only to realize it was already 10 PM. It was hardly an appropriate time to visit someone else's home.
"I'll have to wait until tomorrow."
Even so, Tristan's steps were already leading him out of the palace.
The night air carried the faint scent of summer, and fallen petals brushed against his steps as he walked alone, without an escort.
"It's supposed to be a visit for a sick person; I should have brought flowers. Then again, that woman seemed to prefer snacks over flowers."
Tomorrow, he would send flowers to the count's manor. The flowers currently popular in society were lisianthus. Adding white and pink scabiosa would make a suitable arrangement for her bedside…
His musings were abruptly interrupted as he neared the manor's wall by an unexpected voice.
A drunken person, accompanied by a much clearer female voice, was speaking.
"I can walk by myself…!"
"No, ma'am. Please keep holding my hand."
A lady returning from a party, perhaps, with her maid? Without much thought, Tristan turned his head toward the voices—and froze as soon as he saw the color of her hair. His heart seemed to drop as he instinctively hid in the shadow of the manor's wall.
"Dory Redfield?"
The two women were heading toward the servants' side door of the Redfield Count's manor. The maid walked upright, while the lady—whose dress frills peeked out from beneath her cloak—stumbled slightly.
Was it due to drunkenness? Or an injury? Either way, Arthur Albion deserved the blame.
The woman, who seemed to be Dory, spoke.
"Thank you so much for helping me and staying late because of me… Hic. Do you get overtime pay?"
"I don't understand what you mean, ma'am. My only duty is to escort you safely."
"No, really, make sure you get it! Even if you avoid asking for money for overtime because you're scared of upsetting your superiors, you'll end up with nothing. Seriously. You need some extra funds."
"…"
"Once, I saved up for months to buy a fraisier whole cake for my birthday, but when the day came, I ended up crying and eating just three Ferrero Rocher chocolates instead. They were good, but still…"
This oddly specific nonsense was undoubtedly Dory Redfield's.
The woman who seemed to be a maid answered curtly with "Yes, mind your step, ma'am," while helping the slightly swaying Dory.
Tristan's head was full of questions.
"Dory, where were you at this hour?"
It was a Saturday night, so there must have been parties everywhere—from grand banquets to small gatherings around a table with friends. Considering she hadn't used a carriage, perhaps it was the latter.
"Does that woman even have friends?"
Tristan suddenly felt embarrassed by his own thoughts. Of course, she could have friends.
"Come to think of it, Maria called her Dory so casually earlier today."
When did they become so close?
Questions upon questions piled up, yet no answers emerged. At times like this, it was best to reverse one's thinking.
"…What do I even know about my fiancée?"
Dory Redfield. The third daughter of the Redfield Count family. Quiet, boring, and not particularly beautiful.
The fact that she liked sweets was a piece of information he'd stumbled upon by sheer coincidence earlier this year. It wasn't exactly groundbreaking.
"Why… Why do I know so little about my fiancée?"
He could infer the situation at Blue Atrium from a few rumors and documents, yet he knew about as much about the woman he'd been engaged to for five years as a dance hall doorman who announced her arrival.
The reason, of course, was obvious.
He had never been curious before.
Even after realizing this, his mind felt blank.
Still, his feet kept moving.
"What am I planning to do by following her?"
Confront her and ask what she likes besides sweets?
By now, the two women had reached the wall of the manor. The side door creaked open.
"Please go inside safely. Our lady will surely look forward to seeing you again."
"Tell her I had a wonderful time. I'll visit again soon."
So it had been a gathering of friends, after all.
Tristan felt relief he couldn't quite explain as he unconsciously let go of the tension in his chest.
Just as Dory stepped over the threshold, her shawl slipped from her shoulders.
"Eek!"
She gasped and hurriedly pulled the shawl back up, momentarily revealing her soft shoulder line in the moonlight.
The maid was even more flustered.
"Why are you startled, ma'am?"
"Because my shoulders showed… Sorry, it's nothing. I don't usually wear clothes like this."
"You've worked hard today. Please rest well."
The maid turned and disappeared into the night. Dory carefully adjusted her shawl before closing the door behind her.
It was time for Tristan to return as well.
"I thought she only wore nun-like outfits, but she does wear proper dresses sometimes."
It was a bit surprising, but seeing her healthy enough to meet friends eased his worries.
"Damn it, so the Countess exaggerated her daughter's condition just to summon me. What a waste of time."
Muttering complaints, Tristan turned on his heel.
He had wasted enough time. Now he needed to spend the entire journey back focusing on work—especially the issue with Blue Atrium.
"The restricted area in Blue Atrium means the higher-ups are aware of the monsters' presence… That woman seems to dress up more for her friends than for balls I attend. How does one even join such gatherings—no, why am I even thinking about this now!"