I Just Wanted to Call Off the Arranged Marriage With the Princess—Someone I Could Never Possibly Be a Match For—But for Some Reason, She Took a Liking to Me and Is Now Closing in on Me
“Is the engagement real? Of course it is, my son!”
The old man… I mean, Your Majesty, responded with a loud, booming laugh. I did apologize for calling him “old man” earlier, but I was relieved when he told me not to worry about it.
I’m still not entirely convinced by his addition that “we’ll be family after all,” though.
As if voicing my own confusion, my father, drenched in cold sweat, cautiously speaks up.
“B-but, Your Majesty. With a foolish… unworthy son like him, wouldn’t he be a poor match for Her Royal Highness Princess Iris?”
Good point, Father.
Just as I was cheering him on in my heart, thinking, “As expected of the voice of my heart,” he kicked me in the back like a horse. What’s with you? Haven’t you been way too disrespectful to your son this whole time?
“Ha ha ha! Don’t worry about social standing. If she’ll take you in, that’s good enough.”
What do you mean, “take me in”?
I felt a sense of unease—what exactly is going on here?—and as I looked at Her Highness the Princess, the center of attention, my nose was suddenly pinched. Why?
“His Majesty is just talking nonsense.”
“Call me Father.”
“Old man.”
He looks like an old man… His Majesty started looking dejected.
Since I have brothers, I don’t usually see scenes like this, but is a father being treated so roughly by his daughter really this pitiful?
So His Majesty is a parent too… I’m starting to worry a bit about the future of the country.
“It’s a stretch to say ‘don’t worry about your status,’ but please accept the engagement. It’s better to get married sooner rather than later. Are you free tomorrow?”
I was invited to the wedding with the same casual attitude as if he were asking, “Where are we going tomorrow?” Is it really okay to treat marrying a princess the same as having a drink at some random tavern?
But then again, I suppose the letter was pretty much the same.
“It’s an engagement.”
“You probably want to get it over with, right?”
“Leave me alone.”
“But still…”
“You stink.”
Ah, he’s dead.
“You didn’t have to go that far,” His Majesty muttered, hugging his knees. The dignified air of a stern king seen from the throne had turned to dust, blown away by the wind.
Or rather, even though he’s been feeling down from being treated so roughly by his daughter, I get the feeling he’s trying to pass the blame onto me.
“Is something wrong?”
“You’re actually asking that?”
“It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?”
“True.”
The princess stifled a chuckle.
The line between politeness and rudeness had long since been crossed. It had been like this ever since the arranged meeting, so there was no point in trying to cover it up now.
“’just getting anxious because I haven’t gotten engaged yet.”
“How old are you now?”
“Sixteen.”
She holds up six white fingers. Every little gesture of hers is so cute.
“Isn’t that about the right age? You don’t need to rush.”
“Right? Yet they keep nagging me to find a partner already.”
“I’m not nagging!”
“Whoa!”
I was startled.
The Emperor, who had been on the verge of death just moments ago after being called smelly by his daughter, came back to life. He grabbed my shoulder firmly and brought his stern face close to mine.
Scary, scary.
“The other daughters and sons have already gotten engaged or married. In fact, those arrangements were made privately from a young age.”
“I see… is that so?”
I can understand that.
The nobility’s most important duty is to produce an heir. That’s even more true for the royal family, so they can’t afford to enjoy a single life like I do, thinking, “I’ll get around to it eventually.”
“And yet, my own daughter has such a foul mouth and attitude—she’s in the thick of her rebellious phase, shouting, ‘Who’s going to marry me anyway!’ She brushes off her debut into society with a single word: ‘Trouble!’ I’ve arranged countless matchmaking meetings, hoping she’d at least find someone she’s interested in, but she won’t even talk to them—she just pours water on her suitors!”
“It’s the idiot who pressured me to get married who’s at fault.”
“That’s true, but still!”
Her father sighs at his daughter’s retort, but she’s turned her back on him with a haughty snort.
Honestly, it feels less like royalty and more like a father struggling with his teenage daughter. It’s suddenly so down-to-earth, and I even feel a sense of kinship.
But, I see.
I wondered why I was being set up on a blind date with a princess, but I guess it was just a case of “throw enough darts and one will hit the target.” She’s been turning down so many suitors that she didn’t have the luxury of being picky.
Even for royalty, turning people down this much would look bad. His daughter is important, but I could understand why he’d want her to get engaged soon.
This is rough.
Just as I was taking it all in stride, the conversation turned back to me. His Majesty was closing in with a desperate look on his face. I was scared, after all.
“That’s where you come in!”
“……Why?”
I seriously have no idea.
It’s not just the engagement letter—I couldn’t fathom why it had to be me. At the restaurant, I was treated to a delicious meal and just enjoyed the food.
As for the conversation, it wasn’t exactly lively; we just said things like “This is good” or “I want some meat”—nothing substantial.
How on earth does that lead to an engagement? To begin with, my family hasn’t agreed to it; it’s completely one-sided. I even wonder if we’re not actually engaged yet.
“My daughter has decided that this is the only person she’ll marry. So, for now, as long as you’ll agree to the engagement, I don’t care who it is.”
“Anyone?”
I’m not sure about that, but His Majesty’s desperation makes it abundantly clear just how much he’s struggled up to this point.
I look away from His Majesty, who’s gripping my shoulder so hard it hurts, and ask the princess—who’s actually the one involved—while fiddling with my hair
“Why me?”
“……Ah, chemistry?”
That was a bit of a cop-out.
I mean, it’s important, but it’s not the first thing that comes to mind as a reason for a princess to choose a fiancé.
“What about family background or wealth?”
“Nobles—that ‘I’m so noble’ attitude of theirs really gets on my nerves.”
“I totally get that.”
That “I’ve been important since birth” attitude really gets on my nerves. Nobles are often like that, and I understand what’s expected of them.
But even so, when they talk down to me, I just want to snort in derision. It’s just that you were born into a good family—it doesn’t mean you’re actually important.
“Right?”
Perhaps pleased to find someone who understood her, the princess broke into a wide smile, as if her words had struck a chord.
“You get it, right? Don’t you?” As we exchanged these nods of agreement, His Majesty folded his arms and nodded along.
Seeing this, the princess’s expression suddenly turned cold and aloof.
“Annoyinh.”
“you’re about to cry, aren’t you?”
I certainly didn’t want to see the head of state cry. Though I didn’t want to see him curled up with his knees hugged either.
The Emperor wiped his eyes and cleared his throat with a deep “ahem.”
“In any case, the engagement is official. As for the wedding, shall we discuss the timing? Viscount Magnolia.”
“Eh, no… uh…”
My father, who had been left out of the conversation, was suddenly addressed and looked flustered. He was clearly flustered and panicking about what to do, but in the end, he responded like a loyal subject, saying, “Of course.”
My father turned to face me.
“Is that fine with you, too?”
“Huh? No, I don’t want to.”
When I flatly refused, the atmosphere in the room froze.