Tristan wanted to shout in every direction.

If possible, he’d seat the coachman and the servant from the front of the carriage right across from him and yell at the top of his lungs.

Everyone, I have a fiancée with a graceful beauty, like a Diamond Jubilee Rose on the verge of blooming!

That fiancée of mine, despite the countless disturbances and work that came in between, did not forget the promise she made to send me a letter! Not only that, but she even sent me a gift, wishing for my safe return!

An embroidered handkerchief? How cliché, Arthur!

What I received might seem, at first glance, like something useless—something one might ask, ‘Why would you even receive that?’—but this holds a memory that only the two of us share!

"Your Highness, what did you receive?"

"…Ahem. Oh, nothing important."

Tristan barely held himself back, forcibly dragging down the corners of his lips that were itching to shout.@@novelbin@@

Just recently, Doris had strictly warned him.

"Don’t say anything sentimental or boastful about your fiancée in front of others."

"Even if you hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t do anything so embarrassing."

Damn it. If he started talking, he might not be able to stop. Just imagining it had already filled his head with an endless string of sentences.

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