I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway

The woman draped in a black dress lifted a small plate. It held cookies studded with crushed peanuts.

"I didn’t come empty-handed." She smiled. "Of course, I’ll also include something our guest enjoys even more than cookies."
In her other hand were two coins.
It wasn’t until then that I snapped out of my daze and nodded.

"Please, have a seat, Madame."
"Congratulations on your victory, my lady. …Though, from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like the kind of win you wanted. It feels ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) wrong to celebrate it too much."
"…"

"But a wager is a wager. And I have a duty not to involve myself in the real-world misfortunes of our patrons."
"I understand."
I took the two coins and clenched them tightly, as if trying to capture some remnant of Rick’s warmth.

As Madame Abigail recorded the transaction in her ledger, she remarked,
"That brings your total to three coins."
"I’m… not in the top rankings, am I?"

"I’m afraid not."
I had braced myself for it, but still, it stung.
After earning two coins from my very first wager, I hadn’t managed another proper win.

The biggest loss was when I recklessly bet even my own coins on the hunting tournament, convinced it would be a jackpot—only for it to crash and burn.
After that, I had been too busy with my own matters. Too distracted by Rick’s behavior. A hundred little reasons had kept me from gaining or losing anything.
And now, before I knew it, I had to make do with just three measly coins.

At least Tristan seems to actually want to marry me. That’s something.
Still, I had to consider what I would do if things didn’t go as planned.
As if reading my thoughts, Madame Abigail asked,
"Previously, you inquired about whether I could procure information on a certain someone. Are you planning to purchase it today?"

Ah, right. She had offered to sell me Percival’s weakness for three coins.
I shook my head without much hesitation.
"No."

"Oh my. Have you lost interest?"
"I think I can handle it on my own a little longer."
I had already found some evidence that Percival had made donations to that convent.

During my last holiday, I had asked one of my maids for a favor.
"Check if there’s been any newly expanded or recently renovated buildings, and look for any artwork inside them that features a face resembling Percival."
The maid had given me a baffled look at the last part but did as I asked.

A few hours later, she returned, eyes wide.
"My lady, you were right! There’s a shining, brand-new noble-only prayer room, and one of the angels in a painting looks exactly like Prince Percival!"
Bingo.

Big donors often preferred to donate tangible, lasting items instead of letting their money vanish into thin air.
It made sense that Percival would do the same.
Newly constructed buildings always needed artwork. And the artists and artworks chosen were never free from the influence of the donors.

It’s not uncommon for artists to subtly insert their patrons’ faces into a painting as an esteemed figure.
Even in religious paintings.
"Good work. Thank you."

"Here you go! I copied the artist’s signature like you asked!"
That was the first step—identifying an artist funded by Percival.
The artist hadn’t even bothered to hide that he had been commissioned by Percival for a painting at the convent.

Well, donating a building and artwork wasn’t a crime in itself.
But if I could prove that money was funneled in through means other than ‘donations,’ then things would change.
For my second step, I needed to find out if the convent had received funds through less charitable means.

I had recently visited the crown princess under the pretense of seeking guidance in official duties.
"When organizing events, is it acceptable to purchase goods from a facility I’m familiar with? I happened to enjoy the wine from the convent His Highness Percival introduced me to."
"I don’t see why not… wait, Percival’s convent? You mean Binder Convent?"

"Yes. Do you know of it?"
"Two years ago, during the Holy Festival, we procured wine from Binder Convent on his recommendation. The quality… did not quite match the price."
"Ah…"

"We paid, of course, since refusing would have been unseemly. But it’s common for establishments to take advantage of the royal family’s concern for appearances to overprice their goods. Be cautious."
"I see. Then, for official event supplies, would it be appropriate to conduct an open bidding process and require all participants to submit transaction records from the past three years to verify pricing fairness?"
The crown princess looked at me like I was a puppy she had trained to fetch and instead brought back a gold bar. A mix of admiration and horror.

…Maybe I had leaned too much into modern public procurement policies.
"…There will be considerable pushback, but if implemented properly, it could be highly effective. I’ll take it into consideration."
"Thank you for your guidance."

"Especially regarding religious institutions, dealing with their sly maneuvering is exhausting. Though for now, I won’t burden you with those matters—"
She seemed briefly flustered, but quickly switched to an eager tone, clearly pleased to have found a competent junior.
…Apologies, but I only half-listened.

Still, I had confirmed one thing—Percival had funneled a significant amount of funds into Binder Convent two years ago.
Next on my list was tracking down Ariel Rabbit.
To obtain her testimony, I had a long to-do list ahead of me.

"…For someone who just spoke so confidently, you look rather deep in thought."
Madame Abigail let out a small, amused laugh.
"Ah, sorry! I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. I’ve had a lot to think about lately."

"Coins don’t roll over to the next season. You’d best use them soon. No matter what information you seek in the future, I eagerly await the chance to demonstrate our capabilities."
Her words sounded like a closing remark.
But she didn’t leave.

In fact, another staff member casually set a drink in front of her.
"Uh… is there something else you needed?"
"As the social season winds down, things in the Salon grow quieter as well. I came to ask if you’d keep this bored Madame company for a while."

"…"
It felt strange to have the owner of the Salon asking me to keep her company.
But oddly enough… it almost seemed like she had noticed I had lost my usual conversation partner here and was offering me a distraction without making it feel like pity.

"…I should be the one thanking you. Drinking alone felt rather lonely tonight."
"Heh, drinking alone isn’t good for your health. Shall we toast?"
Our glasses clinked lightly.

The peanut cookies she brought were delicious.
I even tossed one to Lady Witch, who had been circling our table under the guise of ‘patrolling.’ Apparently, even the guard dog was getting bored.
"Do the number of guests drop when the season ends?"

"Rather than seeking new information, people start focusing on reinforcing their existing connections. If you order the same drink this time of year, you’ll usually get a larger serving—ask the staff."
"Must be tough managing inventory. …This is a bit off-topic, but—how much does it cost to establish and maintain a salon?"
"Excuse me?"

"I know the Sacred Salon isn’t an ordinary one, so it’s hard to compare, but things like interior design, space upkeep, and kitchen maintenance—I’d like to get a reference."
"…That’s an unexpected question."
"Oh, of course, I’ll pay for the information! I can’t offer coins, though."

Madame Abigail shook her head.
"I can tell you for free—if you tell me why you’re interested. I can’t imagine you opening a salon."
"I was considering career options for a noblewoman who doesn’t want to marry but needs to support herself."

That noblewoman, of course, was Natalie.
At my answer, Madame Abigail tilted her head.
"Not exactly the kind of profession noble parents would approve of."

"That’s fine. I have other plans to disappoint them first. By the time I get to ‘salon ownership,’ they’ll be too exhausted to care."
Madame chuckled.
"Independence always starts with disappointment. Though…"

"Though?"
She slid me a note.
I took one look at the number on it and let out an involuntary groan.

"That’s… quite the sum."
"A typical noblewoman would never reach it without parental funding. And since ‘your noblewoman’ plans to disappoint her parents, that might be a problem."
"Oh, she’ll get funding."

"…Oh?"
Madame Abigail’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.