Chapter 65: Chapter 65

While the maid flinched at the unexpected attention, I posed the question instead.

“What did you like about him? Was it his reliability?”

Of course, the protagonist in the play wasn’t a villain. He was a diligent tailor and a wise man.

But the maid shook her head.

“I really liked how the protagonist was always by the heroine’s side! Like when he waited for her after her shift with an umbrella on a stormy night…”

“Oh, right. That showed a lot of consideration. The scene where he helped serve customers during a rush without boasting about it was really impressive.”

“Exactly! Men who quietly help when needed are so rare. That’s the kind of man I like.”

Her eyes sparkled.

At that moment, Tristan interjected.

“Surely the protagonist wasn’t entirely good-natured. Wasn’t his investigation into the handsome stranger driven by jealousy?”

“W-Well, to be honest, yes, that part too… I liked it.”

“….”

Tristan’s hand, holding his teacup, trembled slightly. He clearly hadn’t expected that answer.

But the eighteen-year-old maid, unable to contain her bubbling admiration for the fictional character, boldly continued to reveal her feelings.

“Isn’t it charming when someone who is usually kind and modest can’t hide their jealousy?”

“…I can’t say I understand. Isn’t it better to remain consistently kind?”

“In fiction, characters like that are unpopular,” I replied, nodding in agreement with her final statement.

That’s the fate of the gentle, brown-haired supporting male lead. At least in romance, they only survive if they’re given elements like jealousy or a tragic past.

The maid added, “Well, in reality, men who are reliable and kind are either already married or in relationships…”

“That’s probably true. Reliability and kindness are universally valued, but they’re also rare qualities.”

“Sigh… Do you think Rick Ray is kind to his lover, too?”

“Huh?”

I hadn’t expected that name to pop up.

For one, that man wasn’t kind to anyone except one particular person—and even that was debatable.

There was also a more pressing issue.

“He stood by and did nothing when you were in trouble! Isn’t that far from being kind?”

“That’s true… Honestly, I thought he was kind of cool, but that really ruined it for me.”

“You’re right to think that.”

“But if someone like him offered to ‘walk me home,’ being so kind just to me… I think I’d fall for it.”

“Are you sure you’re over him?”

While the maid rambled about her preferences, Tristan, who had been quietly sipping his tea, let out a heavy sigh.

“This was supposed to be a conversation about the play, but it seems I misunderstood the nature of this gathering.”

“I-I’m so sorry! My deepest apologies!”

The maid’s face turned bright red as she stammered her apology, bowing her head deeply.@@novelbin@@

Tristan, it’s not like your idea of killing off the protagonist earlier was a particularly productive topic either.

In any case, I decided to steer the conversation back on track.

“For me, today’s play will be my last. One thing that stood out was how much the performance relied on the actors’ delivery…”

Tristan chimed in occasionally, clearly making an effort to show he’d been paying attention to the play. The maid, however, remained mostly silent, likely still embarrassed by her earlier remarks.

I was the first to finish my tea after all the talking.

As I refilled my cup, I noticed the waitress serving chocolate cream cake to the table next to ours. The cream looked impossibly soft, and I imagined how perfectly it would pair with the tea.

“Waitress. Three slices of cake here.”

I didn’t even have time to stop him. Tristan had already placed the order, the maid looked flustered, and soon enough, three slices of cake were sitting before us.

The chocolate cream glistened invitingly, soft and shiny under the light.

It looked delicious.

“I can’t possibly refuse the generosity of His Highness. I’ll enjoy it with gratitude,” I said, picking up my fork.

Since it was a random tea house near the theater, I wasn’t expecting much. But without palm oil and with real sugar and chocolate, this world always delivered a trustworthy flavor for chocolate cake.

Sigh… delicious.

Three bites in, just as I contemplated taking another, the maid tugged at my sleeve.

“That’s enough, Miss.”

“…What if I just eat the cream?”

“No, Miss. What if Lady Natalie scolds you? And if you eat more, you might wake up tomorrow with a pimple and get caught.”

“Fine…”

My diet was still ongoing. With a sigh, I set my fork down and nodded at the maid, silently urging her to eat without worry. No need for both of us to suffer.

Tristan, of course, could eat however much he wanted—

No.

To my surprise, he froze mid-motion, holding his plate as if he’d intended to pass it to me.

“Doris Redfield. What do you mean by that? Is Natalie restricting your meals?”

“Oh, it’s not a bad thing! There’s a reason for it. My sister does it for my benefit!”

Specifically because I’m dieting, and the root cause is you.

I wanted to ask outright. Are you sulking because I haven’t worn the dress you gifted me?

I appreciate you ordering cake, but this feels less like treating your fiancée and more like a grandmother spoiling her grandchild.

Tristan seemed to wrestle with his thoughts for a moment but didn’t press further.

“…I see.”

He took a bite of his own cake. Judging by the way his face twisted, as if he’d just tasted ginseng candy for the first time, he didn’t seem to enjoy sweet things. Still, he didn’t leave a crumb behind.

The final theater outing ended there.

As the maid went to fetch the carriage, I turned to bid Tristan farewell.

“Thank you for joining us, Your Highness. I had a much more enjoyable time than usual. Above all, I appreciate the insights you shared, broadening my limited understanding of popular arts.”

That should be polite enough.

Of course, the exaggerated formality was deliberate—I had no desire to act overly friendly.

You’ve done enough to alleviate your guilt about the hospital visit. Just leave now.

Yet, surprisingly, Tristan didn’t say a word as I finished my farewell and raised my head. He wasn’t even feigning indifference.

He just kept looking at me, his hand opening and closing as if he were restless.

“Your Highness?”

“Doris. May I ask you something?”

His tone was cautious.

It was the same serious tone he had used during the hunting competition, standing before a beast.

“Is there someone—or something—in your life that weighs on you? Something you can’t discuss with others for fear of tarnishing your reputation, leaving you to bear it alone?”

Was he introducing himself?

“What do you mean by that, Your Highness?”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you this. If you ever face a problem you can’t handle on your own, remember that I can help you.”

“…”

In a way, he wasn’t wrong.

Tristan was indeed the only one who could resolve the greatest issue of my life: Tristan himself.

I almost laughed aloud at the thought.

But then, I noticed his clenched and unclenched hands, his anxious demeanor, and the tension in his voice as he continued.

“I… don’t really know how to protect someone or help them properly.”

The words didn’t suit the usually arrogant Tristan.

It was that very inconsistency that silenced my mockery and drew my attention to him.

His voice grew firmer.

“But I stood with my sword drawn before a monster, even without prior experience, and I protected that place.”

“…”

“Even if I don’t have the answer to your troubles right now, I believe I have the strength to protect you.”

“Your Highness…”

Even as he admitted his shortcomings, Tristan’s unwavering blue eyes were fixed solely on me.

My mind questioned, Is this really the Tristan I know?

My heart, however, already answered.

Yes. As surprising as it is, I’ve seen this Tristan before.

When he’d forced me to rest in the infirmary despite my protests. When he’d stood before a monster. He must have been doing his best, in his own way, back then too.

My heart raced.

Embarrassingly enough, I felt warmth rising from my chest to my face.

Was this… Was I starting to feel something for Tristan?

Before I could reach a terrifying conclusion, Tristan spoke.

“So, if your sister is the cause of your struggles… let me help.”

At that moment, my heart came to a screeching halt. I could almost hear it say, Why did I even bother beating for this?

Thank you for your nonsense, Your Highness. It cleared my head!

Absolutely not!

I replied firmly.