Dear Ex-Fiancé, I Hope You Regret Everything - Chapter 1

I pushed up my thick bottle-bottom glasses with a shove and rubbed my face, still weary from pulling an all-nighter.

Lady Iris Dostoevsky is extremely nearsighted.

Even someone like Iris has a fiancé.

He’s Cain Bellad, the son of a count. But this man has terrible womanizing habits.

Even though tomorrow is the end-of-term exam, it’s not hard to imagine he was probably out playing with some young lady somewhere. He likely hasn’t studied at all.

That’s why I have to do this utterly foolish task of delivering the summarized notes to him.

But while my brothers were allowed to attend the academy, the women in our family, including my older sister, aren’t permitted to go since we’re just meant to be married off. So, this is actually great study practice for me. How fortunate!

I’m sure Lord Cain is taking advantage of me like this.

(But that’s fine! Being able to study is truly a blessing! It’s a bit irritating, but since it’s framed as helping Lord Cain, Father turns a blind eye to it.)

I made the special trip to Lord Cain’s mansion and waited for my fiancé to appear.

“Good morning, Lord Cain.”

“Your face is as awful as ever. You should tidy yourself up more. The young ladies attending the academy maintain proper appearances.”

Saying that, he snatched the file from me, immediately turned on his heel, and waved his hand flippantly without even looking back.

(…Correction. Not just a bit, it’s really irritating!)

I stomped off with long, heavy strides.

If anyone saw me like this, I’d probably get scolded by Father, but I kept stomping along regardless.

(What the—! What the—! What the—! I just pulled an all-nighter!? Isn’t this your fault for slacking off!?)

“Whoa!!”

“Eek!!”

I collided head-on with someone.

It was my fault for stomping off in such long, angry strides.

“Owwww…”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry! I…”

Looking around, papers that the young man must have been carrying were scattered everywhere.

I hurriedly began gathering them up.

(What’s this? A manuscript?)

Written on what appeared to be the title page was “The Whereabouts of the Mermaid.”

The author’s name was listed as “San Lucero.”

(An unfamiliar name from another country?)

“Um, excuse me. Could I have those back?”

“Ah! I’m sorry! Are you injured?”

“Yes. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m completely fine. I truly apologize.”

The young man carefully counted the pages before saying,

“That’s a relief, they’re all here. I won’t get scolded by my teacher now,” and patted his chest in relief.

He tipped his newsboy cap in greeting and hurried off.

(Teacher… San Lucero… The Whereabouts of the Mermaid…)

Numerous keywords showered down on me like stars.

Shoving up my thick bottle-bottom glasses, a spark of curiosity ignited within me. I spun around and headed toward the town’s bookstore.