I could fill the paper with pretty lies if I wanted to. The problem was that I was known for being unwaveringly sincere toward Tristan.
Tristan isn't stupid. He'd see through a letter full of empty words in no time.
Sure, pretending to write a love letter would be easy enough.
"You're amazing, I'm happy to be your fiancée, please return safely."
I could stretch those ideas into three or four sentences each and be done.
Let's just get this over with!
I gripped the pen, roughly forming the opening line in my head—
But after writing "Dear Prince Tristan," I froze.
Why is this so embarrassing? This is weird.
It's not like I'm bad at writing fake messages.
I had sent perfectly polite New Year's cards to that insufferable head librarian before: "Thank you for all your support this year. I wish you good health in the coming year."
Of course, what I really wanted to write was: "Thanks to you, every single day of this year has been awful. I hope next year I'll only see your face in the crime section of the newspaper. How much longer do you plan to use library funds to fill the archives with terrible self-help books written by your friends?"
Pretending to like someone I don't? That's nothing.
I'd decided on my opening:
"Every time I close my eyes, I vividly recall the moment we first met. If my life were a book, that day would be the first page to hold a bookmark. The joy of being bound to someone like you through engagement is a memory I will revisit again and again…"
Or something along those lines.
Of course, the real me, who's now fully aware of my fate to marry Tristan, wasn't exactly thrilled.
…But I wasn't upset, either.
If I were in Maria's shoes, though, I'd probably feel overwhelmed. Arthur is a kind and steadfast leader—he deserves someone as strong-willed as Maria.
If I were destined to end up with Rick?
That'd still be burdensome. Rick is a deeply wounded soul, and he needs someone capable of healing him.
Someone like Tristan, who's neither here nor there as a villain, is just right. At least he's handsome. I could just write about his looks and status, and call it an honor—
…No.
I instinctively scratched out the sparkling, flowery lines I'd written, the sound of the pen harsh as it tore across the paper.
Maria looked up in surprise.
"Dory?"
"I messed up. Don't worry about it."
I gritted my teeth.
Thinking Tristan wouldn't overwhelm me was no excuse. Pretending to love him in a letter? That would be disrespectful.
We're going to marry regardless. Even without empty flattery, I could still approach him with sincerity.
Then what can I do…?
The answer came quickly once I ruled out a superficial letter.
I'd simply do what I told the other ladies to do.
Grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, I noticed Maria tilting her head curiously.
"Are you drawing something?"
"Yes. Just decorating the edges of the letter."
I'd talk about the things I loved and ask him about the things he loved.
We might not love each other, but we could at least fill our surroundings with things we both enjoyed.
***
'Today, for the first time, I saw Your Highness shoot a bow. The unwavering trajectory that pierced through the wind must surely be a reflection of the long path you've walked. Do you enjoy archery?'
After writing the line, I couldn't help but picture Tristan shooting again. The way his cloak slipped from his shoulders to reveal his strong frame, the ridges of his fingers visible even through his gloves, and the steady blue gaze following the arrow's path before it struck its target…
…Wow. Why do I remember him so vividly?
Forget it. What's the point of replaying all this in my head?
Let's summarize this properly:
'I'd like to touch your arm just once—'
No! Not like that!
I slammed my pen down, making Maria jump.
"Dory? Your face is red—what's wrong?"
"The letter… it's just not coming together!"
"I know how you feel. Sometimes when your emotions are too overwhelming, it's harder to express them in words."
That's not it at all!
I wanted to protest, but I couldn't find the words. Maria, ever calm, simply smiled and popped a cookie into my mouth.
"Take your time, Dory. You don't have to convey everything in one go."
"…"
"If writing is hard, you can express yourself through other decorations too."
Just then, a maid approached, holding out a feathered ornament.
"Miss, would you like to use this?"
"What kind of feather is that?"
"It's from the kitchen preparing for tonight's banquet. I thought it might be useful."
Ah, a memento of today's hunt—and tomorrow's meal.
Looking around, I noticed the box of writing tools had quietly filled with other decorations.
Not just pretty feathers, but colorful wildflowers, fresh green leaves from June's trees…
Excited hands moved through the box, as if the ladies were decorating diaries. Inspired, I began moving my hands as well.
When I got stuck writing sentences, I doodled around the edges, and when inspiration struck, I picked up the pen again.
The letter ended with watery shadows made of chalk and soft down adorning the borders of the stationery.
I hope to see the scenery from that day with you again someday.
And I look forward to finding new views for us to admire together.
Please return safely.
Yours faithfully,
Your fiancée, Dorys Redfield.
"Finished…"
Folding the paper, I glanced around and saw that most people seemed to have finished their letters as well.
Everyone was smiling like students who had just enjoyed a fun art class.
I was relieved they'd enjoyed themselves.
Around that time, Natalie returned to our table, her expression bright as if she'd had a wonderful time.
"Did you have a pleasant tea time, my little songbirds?"
"Thanks to you, yes. But where's the countess?"
"Oh, her? She was badmouthing some baroness earlier, wasn't she? It turns out the baroness was also nearby having tea. I thought I'd help them clear up their misunderstandings, so I introduced them to each other."
In other words, she instigated a fight.
Grinning as if she'd thoroughly enjoyed the drama, Natalie added,
"I'd have loved to pit that rascal Rick against her too, but he's so busy I didn't even get a chance to say hello."
"Is his workload really that heavy?"
"Not that I care," she replied, sipping her cold tea.
"Anyway, since the countess abandoned the tea party, let me officially announce its conclusion. Ladies, it's time to prepare for the banquet."
The other ladies exchanged awkward glances, their expressions practically saying, "Is this really okay?"
But with the countess absent, there wasn't much choice.
They dispersed in small groups, two or three at a time, heading in all directions.
Though they didn't forget to bid me farewell before leaving.
"Thank you for helping us prepare such lovely gifts, Lady Dorys."
Even if I returned home empty-handed tomorrow, this hunting competition would remain a fond memory.
***
When we returned to our tent, my sister asked what I'd done in the countess's absence.
When I said I'd written a letter for my fiancé, she frowned.
"Can he even read?"
"You're underestimating him way too much."
"I'm not asking if he's illiterate. I'm asking if he has the patience, focus, and literary taste to read a fiancée's letter."
"That's even worse!"
"For the record, I lack all three," she quipped.
"Judging by your sharp wit, I'd say you do have literary taste. And as for His Highness, I'm sure he has at least the first two. He analyzed the Blue Atrium reports, didn't he? He's competent as a civil servant."
My sister chuckled. "Your opinion of him has improved."
"Improved? What did I say about him before?"
I guess the real Dorys must've had some opinions about Tristan before I came into this body.
What did she think of him?
Natalie pondered for a moment before shaking her head.
"Don't ask me; I have a terrible memory."
"…."
"Although I think you said something like, 'It's disappointing how he chases useless things.' You were probably annoyed that he only cared about parties and dances—just like how you used to dislike me for the same reason."
She smiled mischievously, and I waved my hands in denial.
"N-No, I don't feel that way now!"
"You're not denying the past, though. So, will you attend the banquet tonight? Or not?"
"What if I don't?"
"Then I'll have to come up with a good lie for Mother. Something like, 'Dorys had a great time hanging out with me.'"
Her teasing made me laugh in relief.
***
As people began returning to the tent to prepare for the banquet, Natalie summoned all the maids and sat down at the vanity.
Meanwhile, Father returned, covered in mud. Fortunately, he wasn't injured—
But he did have the distinction of being the first participant in this competition to slip on animal droppings.
While the servants hurriedly heated his bathwater, I told my family,
"I'll head out first. Take your time coming."
"You're leaving already? Fine, make sure to pass on my regards to His Highness!"
I couldn't bring myself to reply.
Would I even see him at the banquet?
He'd made it clear how busy he was.
Just in case, I brought the handkerchief and letter with me, but I wasn't expecting to meet him.
If I can't see him today… maybe I'll catch him at dawn?
What if he scolds me for being a nuisance so early in the morning?
…Still, I hope he at least pretends to be happy when he receives it.
If he can't manage even that small courtesy, I'm not sure I'll survive being married to him.