Dear Ex-Fiancé, I Hope You Regret Everything - Chapter 19

(She’s late)

I wonder if Iris is alright.

I wanted to introduce her to my parents right away, yet for some reason she hasn’t appeared.

Don’t tell me…

(Is it Fonmi…?)

I should have just fired her, but Iris wouldn’t allow it.

When Iris lived in Isac, that woman who served as her personal maid envied her background as a count’s daughter and, of all things, became obsessed with destroying her beauty.

Despite such things happening, Iris always treats everyone with respect. She’s too trusting of people.

Moreover, my mistake was in being too naive in my thinking. I believed I had behaved in a way that left no room for argument about Isac blood running through my veins. But that was something I could say because I’m the crown prince, it shouldn’t have involved my fiancée.

(I still have much to learn)

My father, the king, sighed. Normally, making the king wait would be absolutely unacceptable.

“…Skyford, I trust you. You’re second only to your mother. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not irritated about being kept waiting. …I heard there was some commotion when the young lady from Isac arrived in Haira.”

“Ah, that was Lady Iris soiled her dress and changed. Please don’t concern yourself with it.”

If Iris is protecting Fonmi, then I won’t take any action. I want to respect her wishes.

(Perhaps precisely because she was betrayed by a maid she trusted, she wants to build trust herself this time)

It seemed Fonmi had no resistance to receiving severe punishment for deliberately shaming the fiancée brought by a member of the royal family.

(Does she hate Isac that much? My thinking was too naive)

“My deepest apologies for keeping you waiting. I am honored to meet His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen. My name is Iris Dostoevsky.”

Iris bowed politely, with Fonmi standing behind her. At first glance it wasn’t noticeable, but upon closer look I sensed an unusual tension.

Something must have happened between them again, I thought, while consoling myself that I had decided to leave this matter to Iris.

My father and mother aren’t the type to judge people superficially, but that doesn’t mean they accept everything either. Of course not, they are the king and queen of a nation.

“Lady Iris, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand my son was in your care in Isac. I’d like to hear about it while we enjoy our meal.”

“To bring someone so beautiful, our Skyford is full of surprises. Please, have a seat.”

My father spoke about the Dostoevsky territory and other Isac regions, while my mother touched upon the Isac blood in her veins, with the conversation extending to cultural differences between Isac and Haira.

Iris listened to my parents, sometimes agreeing, sometimes eloquently expressing her own opinions.

Even my parents, who have seen many noble ladies, were astonished by her intelligence.

“…Father, Mother. I believe her excellence has been sufficiently conveyed. I would like to formally… request your approval to take Lady Iris Dostoevsky as my wife.”

“Hmm… We understand well her excellence. No doubt the result of her parents’ upbringing. Your judgment is sound. More than anything, like we did, we want Skyford to marry for love. But that’s only if it were in Haira.”

“…Father?”

“Even my wife, who is quarter-Isac, was made to feel ashamed. Can you truly protect her, who is pure-blooded Isac?”

“From now on, Haira must look more toward other nations. In terms of diplomacy as well, Lady Iris will surely become a foothold for that.”

“Speaking of Isac, they likely want to form an oil agreement with our nation. Wouldn’t that unnecessarily stir public anxiety about an unfavorable agreement for Haira? In the current situation, backlash against Lady Iris would be unavoidable.”

“Isn’t that what the engagement period is for? Until our marriage, I will strive to make the people and vassals understand.”

“It’s admirable to have someone you want to protect, but don’t become so obsessed that you lose sight of everything else.”

“I understand.”

“We see your resolve. We’ll be watching over you.”

It was my mother who eased the suddenly tense atmosphere.

“Miss Iris, please don’t take it too hard. It’s not that we dislike you. It will be alright, you’ll see.”

“Your Majesty’s kindness gives me comfort.”

“Oh my! You may call me Mother!”

“Um, isn’t that a bit premature…?”

“Oh dear! Ho ho ho ho!”

The women seemed to have hit it off somehow. Whether it’s the Isac blood, or because they share similar positions and thus understand each other.

(It’s good that they seem to get along, at least for now.)