At first, I thought someone was asking, "Do you know the Way?"
Honestly, that would've been less surprising.
Why is my name coming out of your mouth?
"Who?"
"I was wondering if you know Lady Dory Redfield."
"Isn't she the fiancée of the Third Prince? In that case, I know her as much as anyone else does. Why do you ask?"
"Hmm…"
Rick rubbed his forehead for a moment before looking up.
"…I'll explain after I sober up."
"No need. I doubt waiting a day or two would make any difference, so just say it now."
Just be honest while you're drunk! Don't sober up and start scheming!
Rick looked a little flustered, then took a sip of water and sat across the table from me.
"It's nothing big. It's just… when I first came to the capital, I heard she was the most graceful lady in the social scene."
"People say that often. In my opinion, it's closer to 'she's so docile that there's nothing else to compliment her on.'"
"That's harsh. But from my experience, not even that seems true. She felt… peculiar."
"Peculiar?"
"She didn't seem like a noble at all."
The unexpected comment nearly made me spit out the non-alcoholic cocktail I'd been drinking.
Well, she wasn't originally a noble!
Still, it's not like I'm deliberately impersonating someone. There's no objective issue here. Stay calm.
Meanwhile, Rick kept talking.
"No matter how kind a noble may be, you usually get this sense that they don't see you as an equal. It's inevitable—they were born and raised as nobles."
"…"
"But with her, it was… so different that I wondered if she might be hiding something…"
I wasn't hiding anything. I just had experiences that no one would believe even if I told them.
Still, hearing someone so closely tied to the original story's villain suddenly bring me up made me uneasy.
Could he be trying to find some kind of weakness?
"To get revenge on the Redfields?"
My body tensed up. He's still drunk, so let's play along carefully.
"That's an interesting thought. If she's hiding something, do you think it's about her background?"
"Could be, or maybe not."
"If you, the one who noticed something odd, are giving such vague answers, how can anyone find clues to exploit—"
"No, no, no."
Rick suddenly shook his head vigorously. He then drained the rest of his drink and said,
"I have no intention of exploiting anything! None at all!"
"What? Then…"
"I just…"
"Just…?"
"The Florentines…"
"…Florentines?"
Wait, is he talking about those cookies I gave him during the last hunting competition?
Don't tell me.
Is this one of those annoying subplots where the supporting male lead develops feelings for me because I gave him some sweet treats when no one else cared?
"Who hands over sticky, sugary cookies without even wrapping them in paper…"
"…"
At that, Rick slumped forward, resting his head on the table.
"Hey, skull mask guy?"
No response. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing followed.
Did he fall asleep?
"Ugh."
You get someone all tense, and then you just pass out!
'Damn it. I thought I could relax a bit around Rick.'
Pretending to be a noble is such a hassle.
Just then, a refined voice came from beside me.
"My, has someone forgotten their tolerance for drink?"
"Madame Abigail."
The woman in the black dress tilted her head toward Rick.
"Shall I have him removed?"
"Harsh as ever, I see."
"At this salon, patrons are either drinking or talking. If someone can no longer do either, they're just an obstruction to my other customers."
Madame Abigail raised her thumb and forefinger. Just before she snapped her fingers, I shook my head.
"Leave him. Everyone gets drunk once in a while."
"Hmm. You're quite compassionate, my lady."
"Not particularly. I just treat others the way I'd want to be treated."
He probably came to the Sacred Salon to drink because getting drunk at a local tavern might reveal his feelings to someone.
He's lost his family, his wealth, and now his unrequited love…
If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't drink myself into a stupor like Rick did, but still.
Madame Abigail spoke softly.
"I hope your kindness is returned someday. Will you join the next wager?"
"There aren't many good wagers in July, are there? It's midsummer, so most people are just taking it easy…"
There are small festivals, sure, but there's no big event like the hunting competition with clear winners and losers. It's just a time for the locals to enjoy themselves.
At most, it'd be something trivial, like a drinking contest between neighbors.
But Madame Abigail shook her head.
"It seems like a time for rest, doesn't it? But it's also the season when lovers who met in spring strengthen their bonds, and merchants solidify their contracts. And isn't that when things become more dangerous?"
"Pardon…?"
"Human relationships often start falling apart the moment people think they understand each other."
"That's true."
"Even if it's not as grand as the hunting competition, there will be plenty of smaller wagers starting at the end of July. I look forward to seeing what kind of insight you'll bring then."
"Hmm… Don't expect much."
The only reason I won the season-opening wager was because I knew the original story.
"Just look at how terrible my predictions for the hunting competition turned out."
"Results aren't everything. I found your predictions for the competition incredibly fascinating. It was as if an unwritten future were being sketched out like a novel."
"…"
"I trust in your abilities, my lady. Now, enjoy the rest of your evening."
Madame Abigail snapped her fingers, and attendants approached. They placed a glass of fruit juice in front of me and a cocktail packed with enough herbs to jolt anyone awake in front of Rick. Then they quietly left.
"Ugh…"
She seems to think highly of me.
But I'm just someone who can't even keep up with a life I already know the script for.
'I can't even visit my fiancé in the infirmary right now.'
I sighed internally as I took a sip of the juice.
In this moment, there was only one thing I could be certain of:
The steady, rhythmic sound of breathing from behind the skull mask.
Rick Rey was sound asleep.
"Did you hear that?"
Ssshh, ssshh.
"They say many relationships will change in July."
Ssshh, ssshh.
"You never know what kind of changes might come for you, too."
Snooze, snooze.
"…Why am I even saying this?"
A supporting male lead must never fall in love with anyone other than the female lead.
Liking someone else midway through? Then you're no supporting lead; you're just another random extra who mistakenly thought you were important.
Of course, this world is no longer that novel…
Rick Rey muttered something in his sleep, perhaps dreaming.
"So sweet… really…"
***
"It was an honor to cross swords with Your Highness today!"
"Thank you, Your Highness!"
The young men who had sparred in the royal palace's training grounds bowed their heads. Tristan waved them off with a simple gesture and climbed the stairs. Servants collected his sweat-soaked clothes and opened the door to the bath where water had already been warmed.
It had been two weeks since the hunting competition.
The pride of successfully wrapping up the event and the fear he had felt when facing a monster for the first time had both faded.
But not everything had disappeared.
'This will probably stay.'
Tristan examined the long, vertical scar stretching from his left collarbone to near his chest in the mirror. It was the mark of the monster's claw.
The royal physician, who had removed his bandages the day before, had said, "It will fade gradually." But Tristan knew it was a mix of reassurance and exaggeration.
From the days when he first learned the sword to the times he jumped the palace walls and joined various street brawls, Tristan had experienced his share of rough fights. He was certain this scar would remain.
He had never had a scar this large before, but… it was what it was.
Honestly, it didn't feel entirely bad.
Scars only remain on survivors.
This was proof that he had faced a monster and lived to tell the tale.
The memory of his parents' expressions when they heard about the monster incident came to mind.
"Who caught it? Tristan? Not someone else?"
How could his elder brothers, who had only ever claimed victories arranged by others in tournaments, possibly have taken down a monster?
Their expressions upon hearing the details weren't particularly joyful. They looked more like they'd heard that a pet dog had taken down a wolf.
'It's fine.'
'I'm not your spare resource.'
'We all need to understand that.'
Having swung his sword since morning, Tristan felt his aggression stirred by the adrenaline coursing through him.
He considered grabbing a quick bite before heading back to the training room, running his fingers through his hair—when a maid's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Your Highness, Lady Dorys Redfield has come to visit."
"…"
"She says she's willing to wait for hours, just this once…"
The adrenaline in Tristan's system started taking a sharp retreat.