The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 111

“I hate that corridor, Rashid. That place is…”

When had she said it?

Her voice had trembled, even as she tried to hide her fear her fingers quivering ever so slightly.

“I just really don’t like the banquet hall. Would it be all right,  if we used the corridor instead?”

“…It’ll be fine, probably.”

What had her face looked like then?

“I hate it. I still hate it. I’ll always hate it. But I can’t just keep running from it forever.”

Why hadn’t I asked why?

Why didn’t I listen more carefully?

Why?

Rashid caught Tericia’s collapsing body in his arms, and warm blood began to spread across his hands.

“I—it’s okay. I’m fine… Don’t make that face…”

“Tericia, don’t talk. Carlson will be here soon. Just hang on…”

“I’m glad you’re alive… My wish… came true… Rashi…d…”

“Tericia!”

Her hand, which had been reaching for him with all its remaining strength, fell limply to the ground.

“No!!”

Rashid’s anguished cry cut through the air like a blade.

And then—cutting through the rising panic of the guests—came a voice, sharp and crazed:

“Rashid Hespelt!”

There, standing where Tericia had just been smiling moments ago, was a man with wild eyes and a twisted grin.

Sheffer Verus—once known as Sheffer Boren.

When Rashid saw the blood staining Sheffer’s hand, his vision went white with fury.

Tericia’s blood.

“Ha! Duke Hespelt! Lose everything—feel it! You think I didn’t know? That she’s the most precious thing in the world to you? Now you know what it’s like to lose everything!”

Before he could shout again, the knights rushed in, tackling him to the floor. Even as he hit the ground hard, Sheffer’s laughter continued—manic and triumphant.

But none of it reached Rashid.

The blood kept spilling.

The woman in his arms—so warm just a moment ago—was growing limp. Her weight pressed into him like a nightmare.

His mind was starting to shut down.

“Rashid! Focus on helping Tericia first!”

The Crown Prince’s voice jolted him back.

The High Priest dropped to his knees beside them and gently placed a hand over Tericia’s chest, beginning to pray.

A pale light bloomed beneath his palm. The bleeding slowed. The dagger slipped free from her chest and fell to the ground with a dull clink.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but she must be moved inside. Quickly—we don’t know how bad it is yet.”

At his words, Rashid rose to his feet, Tericia still in his arms.

He paused only once—long enough to shoot a chilling glare at Sheffer.

The would-be assassin lay facedown on the floor, beaten and restrained by Heinz and the knights, blood running from a wound on his head.

“Heinz!”

Rashid’s voice was low and cold. If it hadn’t been for Tericia—if she weren’t in his arms—he would have torn Sheffer apart.

Clutching Tericia tightly, Rashid turned and sprinted inside. The High Priest followed at his heels.

The engagement ceremony ended in blood.

And what remained was a heavy silence, hanging like a curse over the guests.

“It’s poison.”

Carlson’s voice drained the color from every face in the room.

Tericia had been taken straight to Rashid’s bedchamber—the safest and warmest place in the estate.

By the time Carlson and the other estate physicians arrived, she was already in critical condition.

“The location of the stab wound is dangerous on its own… but the blade was also laced with poison. That’s why…”

Carlson bowed his head, then lifted the cloth covering her back.

The blood-soaked dress had been cut away. To treat her, they had exposed her bare back—smooth and unblemished except for the blackened wound at its center, crusted with dried, darkened blood.

The skin around the wound had begun to turn a sickly, unnatural black.

It was the High Priest’s healing that had stopped the bleeding. But even with that divine power, the toxin had already taken hold.

Carlson had gathered every last drop of Panarin—a potent antidote produced by Orzo—and fed it to her, pouring it into her mouth and over the wound.

The bleeding had stopped.

But once it did, the full effect of the poison became terrifyingly clear.

It was undeniably venom.

“If His Grace hadn’t been here to treat her right away, she might not have made it even this far…”

Carlson choked on his words—because Rashid had seized him by the collar and lifted him off the ground with one hand.

Rashid didn’t say a word.

His golden eyes, dulled and cold, didn’t even blink as they stared straight through him.

A fury beyond reason—silent and chilling.

Carlson would have preferred if he’d screamed or struck him. At least that would’ve been human.

But this wasn’t rage. It was something that had passed beyond rage. Something colder. More terrifying.

“Your Grace—let go. The doctor can’t help her if you kill him.”

It was Lord Adler who finally stepped in.

Only then did Rashid loosen his grip.

Carlson crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud. But he forced himself up, his legs trembling.

He didn’t have time to fall apart. Not now.

“How do we save her?”

Rashid’s voice was quiet—but low and hollow, like something scraped across stone.

“Thanks to the Panarin developed by Orzo, the spread of the poison has been slowed. But without the proper antidote, Lady Tericia… she won’t wake up.”

“And?”

“…We have no way to cure her yet.”

Carlson’s voice trembled. He couldn’t hide it.

He was expecting to be struck down again, but Rashid didn’t move. He simply turned to look at Tericia.

Her breathing was faint, her forehead covered in cold sweat.

But she was still alive.

Barely.

The skin discoloration that had started around the wound had stopped—thanks to Panarin—but her skin hadn’t returned to normal.

The Panarin, which had been developed for Rashid’s sake, was now what kept her alive. Even so, her body was barely holding on.

Carlson’s voice faded into the background. Rashid couldn’t hear a word of it. All he could see was Tericia’s pale face lying before him.

The deep black wound against her white skin was like a cruel message—prepare for her death.

Poison. Again—it was poison.

Back then, when she had drunk poison in his place, at least he could force the antidote down her throat. Now… he could do nothing.

“Rashid…”

Her eyes had looked down at her chest in disbelief, then slowly turned toward him. The last word from her lips had been his name.

He’d seen it in her eyes—the fear, the resignation—as if she had known this was coming all along.

If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he might not have noticed that flicker of emotion.

Had she suspected she might die?

And even so…

“I’m fine…”

Was that what she’d meant? Telling him not to worry?

Rashid clenched his fists tightly. Everything he wanted to ask, everything he needed to hear—it would all have to wait until she woke up.

He gently pulled the sheet back over her back, covering the wound. Even this—he didn’t want anyone else to see it.

“That man?”

“Heinz is handling him.”

“…”

Rashid didn’t respond. He simply turned.

Adler instinctively took a step back. The look in Rashid’s eyes was not human. All reason had disappeared—his gaze was lifeless, hollow.

But no one in the room could miss the black fire of rage burning behind that emptiness.

“Carlson.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Find a way.”

Without waiting for a reply, Rashid left the room.

—

The moment he opened the dungeon door, the stench of blood hit him.

He stepped inside without hesitation. Heinz, noticing his arrival, moved aside, revealing the man shackled to the wall.

Sheffer Verus.

His body was already a mess of blood and bruises. There wasn’t a single unbroken bone left. Even his fingers had been shattered, one by one. It would be easier to count where blood wasn’t dripping than where it was.

“Sheffer.”

Rashid’s voice was low, calm.

The man flinched. Slowly, he lifted his head—his eyes dull, nearly dead.

Rashid stared at him with a blank expression.

He was still wearing the ceremonial clothes from the engagement, though now soaked in blood—Tericia’s blood.

Nothing about him had changed since that morning, except for that.

Sheffer saw him and grinned weakly, his mouth twisting upward with effort.

“…If you’ve come to see me, then…”

A rattling sound rose from his throat, thick with blood.

“She’s still alive, isn’t she? That bitch is really… resilient.”

Crack.

Rashid’s fist slammed into Sheffer’s face before he could finish.

Chains clanged loudly as the force of the blow made his body jerk violently against the wall.

He didn’t scream. Just groaned—broken, breathless.

Rashid said nothing. He simply stared.

“Ugh… There’s no antidote,” Sheffer gasped out.

Rashid didn’t flinch.

Seeing this, Sheffer chuckled, coughing up blood with each breath.

“I chose a poison with no cure… because of you.”

A spark flared in Rashid’s eyes.

Sheffer gasped again and kept speaking, eyes wide and mad.

His voice trembled with hate—but also something sickeningly gleeful.

“I knew… it would hurt you more… to lose her than to die yourself. That’s why… that’s why I chose to kill her instead. You won’t be able to save her. You’ll know what it feels like… to be helpless while the woman you love dies… Rashid Hespelt!”

Schlik!

Rashid drove his sword straight through Sheffer’s shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

The blade pierced muscle and stone, embedding itself deep.

Then Rashid twisted it.

Stone cracked. Blood sprayed. Sheffer’s scream echoed through the dungeon.

“If there’s no antidote,” Rashid said coldly, “then you’re worthless.”

“You were from the House of Verus, weren’t you?”

He pressed down harder on the hilt, watching as agony twisted the man’s face.

“Because of you, anyone carrying even a drop of that bloodline will die.”

The air grew heavy.

A dark killing intent radiated from Rashid’s body like a tangible force. It crushed everything around him. No one dared breathe.

Even the faintest movement felt like it might be enough to get cut down.

“Use every potion, every herb—whatever it takes,” Rashid ordered Heinz, his voice like ice. “Keep him alive.”

“…Make him beg me to die.”

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