The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 119

Tericia sat quietly, pretending she was fine, even as her head throbbed painfully.

The malice woven into the voices around her made it feel like her skull might split open.

With her hands folded neatly in her lap, she listened to the so-called “elders” of the household speak.

Since when did these people care about House Hespelt?

Their worthless chatter echoed through the hall like background noise.

“Tericia, there’s no need to pay any mind to what they say. Every one of them is here to claim Hespelt for themselves.”

Count Clu leaned toward her and whispered in a low voice. As if to comfort her, he placed his hand atop hers and gently patted it.

Disgust crawled up her arm like a shiver. His touch was as repulsive as the way his eyes lingered—sticky and insincere.

“So, Uncle thinks he’s different from them?”

Tericia quietly withdrew her hand and looked directly at him. As her hand slipped free, his hand awkwardly remained resting on her knee for a moment. Flustered, he quickly pulled it back.

Even wearing the title of “uncle,” he wasn’t shameless enough to leave his hand on the knee of a grown woman. Perhaps that was the only trace of decency left in him.

“Of course I’m different. I’m your father’s own blood and your only living uncle. If you want to survive, you’d be smart to take my hand.”

He recovered quickly and responded with a slick smile.

Tericia lowered her gaze, hiding her expression. The stench of his self-serving intentions turned her stomach.

Rashid…

She called for her still-absent younger brother in her heart. Not a drop of shared blood between them, but her little brother all the same.

Then, with a heavy sound, the grand doors opened and a man stepped into the room. Everyone fell silent and turned their heads.

It was Rashid—now fully grown, the sole heir to House Hespelt.

He paused for a moment when he saw Tericia seated at the head of the room. But then he resumed walking, coming straight toward her.

“Sister.”

“…Please, have a seat.”

“Yes.”

Sir Heinz, the commander of the knights, stood from his seat without a word, as if he had been waiting. Rashid sat across from Tericia.

As the two of them faced each other, the murmuring nobles coughed lightly, trying to shift the focus. And at that moment, Tericia spoke.

“Now that Rashid is here, let’s proceed with discussing the funeral and the following arrangements.”

Her voice rang out, soft but firm.

“What nonsense is this?”

“That woman’s daughter, presiding over the affairs of the Ducal House? Outrageous!”

The cadet branches erupted, voices full of indignation, as they stormed out of the meeting room like wronged heirs.

They were furious over Tericia’s declaration just moments ago—that she would begin the formal procedure to recognize Rashid as the new head of House Hespelt.

She watched their outburst with not a single change in expression.

“This is madness. Rashid is still a child…”

“He will come of age next year. If we petition the Imperial Court for his succession, His Majesty won’t turn us away.”

“But—!”

“Uncle.”

Tericia’s eyes turned to Count Clu.

“I will handle Hespelt’s affairs. I carry the name as well.”

“…What?”

A sneer crept onto Count Clu’s face. The polite mask he wore began to crack.

“You—who share not a drop of our blood—daring to sit here as Hespelt’s lady. It’s laughable. I warned you, didn’t I? If you don’t take my hand, you’ll die by Rashid’s.”

“……”

Tericia said nothing, simply staring at him.

It was a threat—but not one she could completely dismiss. She knew better than anyone that it wasn’t entirely implausible.

And yet… Wouldn’t it be even more laughable to give up a seat that had already been given to her?

“You’ll regret this.”

Clenching his teeth, Count Clu stormed out.

Now, only Tericia, Rashid, and Sir Heinz remained in the grand meeting room of House Hespelt.

Tericia began to relax—but then noticed Rashid’s gaze still fixed on her, and quickly straightened her back again.

“What are you thinking?”

His voice was calm and unreadable.

“You’re the heir to House Hespelt, aren’t you? I’m simply giving you what’s yours. What’s the problem?”

“…Is that really how you feel?”

Rashid’s expression turned thoughtful, and then he slowly stood.

As he moved, Sir Heinz stepped back quietly, giving him space.

“I hope that’s truly how you feel, Sister.”

With those words, he turned and left the room.

“Haah…”

Only after the sound of his footsteps had completely faded did Tericia finally exhale, sinking into the chair where she had sat upright for so long.

She leaned back, tension melting away.

“…Hespelt is yours. I don’t want it.”

Her voice, barely above a whisper, echoed through the now-empty chamber.

She was alone.

“Do you believe what she said?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Rashid answered Heinz’s question as they walked.

“It’s hard to believe she’d give it up so willingly.”

“Right now, we have no choice but to believe her. No one inside the ducal house truly stands with her. Let’s just wait and see.”

“There’s still Count Clu. He’ll approach her again.”

“She’s not the kind of woman who falls for that so easily.”

Rashid’s confidence wasn’t based on solid evidence. But it was there, nonetheless.

“Young Master.”

“I know what you’re worried about. But I’m not that easily shaken, so don’t worry too much.”

“…Understood.”

Heinz bowed his head in acknowledgment.

No matter how he felt personally, with both the Duke and Lady Boren now gone, the decisions rested with Rashid. Heinz’s duty was simply to follow.

As Rashid turned to walk, he suddenly paused.

Then, he looked back—toward the meeting room he had just left.

The heavy doors remained shut. There was no sign of Tericia emerging.

A sudden image came to mind—her sitting alone in that dim, cold room.

“In that dark place, sitting there all alone… what are you thinking about?”

Maybe he should’ve asked her. He’d lost his father, yes—but she had lost her mother. As cruel as that woman had been… she was still her only mother.

Maybe he should’ve asked her—Are you alright?

“Young Master?”

Heinz’s voice pulled Rashid from his thoughts.

“Is something the matter?”

“…No, it’s nothing.”

Rashid gave a small shake of his head and resumed walking.

His expression, like Tericia’s earlier, was weighed down—dark and quiet.

The Imperial Court had denied Rashid’s succession to the Dukedom.

“End the war in the East, young lord. Do that, and we shall consider approving your inheritance.”

Instead of recognition, the Empire had issued a command—to send him to war.

“Damn it all!”

With fury boiling over, Heinz slammed his fist down on the desk.

Rashid, however, remained seated—calm and collected.

But even his composure shattered when the door to his office suddenly burst open and Tericia appeared.

“Rashid!”

She didn’t even knock—just opened the door and stepped in. She hesitated when she saw Heinz.

Oddly, the sight of Heinz’s flushed and angry face helped Tericia find her own composure.

Rashid gave Heinz a subtle glance, and the knight bowed and quietly left the room. The door closed behind him with a louder thud than usual.

“What brings you here?”

Tericia turned her gaze from the door back to Rashid.

His golden eyes—so calm, so still—were fixed on her.

“I heard the Imperial Court sent a message.”

“They did.”

“They’ve ordered you to go to war, haven’t they?”

“You heard fast. I wonder who’s been feeding you all this news.”

Rashid gave a crooked smile.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Rashid!”

Her face drained of color. Rashid let out a quiet scoff. It felt like something dark and bitter, buried deep inside, was clawing its way to the surface.

“What are you saying…?”

“Are you going to tell me this wasn’t you’re doing?”

“……!”

The bitterness in his heart slipped into his voice. And once it escaped, the dam broke. He didn’t care anymore if she got hurt.

“Rashid! I—”

“Sister.”

Rashid smiled gently—but it was twisted, crooked.

“You abandoned me once. Are you planning to do it again?”

“……!”

“I forgot for a while. That you hated me.”

Tericia’s face grew paler by the second.

“If I didn’t exist, everything would have been yours.”

The mocking words stung. Something rose up in her chest, unbidden.

“I never once wanted that!”

“You didn’t? That woman—your mother—fought so hard to hand everything over to you.”

“I never asked her to!”

“And you knew how much Hespelt meant to me!”

Rashid’s voice rang out, cutting through the air like a blade.

Tericia flinched without meaning to.

Rashid Hespelt… A boy abandoned by his father, and then by his sister…

He let out a bitter laugh.

“You abandoned me.”

“…I never did.”

“Ha.”

Rashid ran a hand roughly through his hair and let out a cold, humorless chuckle.

The air between them was thick—oppressive.

Her violet eyes trembled. Moisture pooled, darkening their hue. Struggling to hold back the tears, Tericia finally spoke.

“If only you weren’t my brother… if only you were…”

But even her trembling voice couldn’t hide the pain behind it.

And for Rashid, those barely spoken words hit like a hammer—his heart dropped.

What hurt more—the words she said? The tears in her eyes? Or the fact that it mattered at all?

He swallowed the bitter emotion. But the sharp, barbed part of him—the part that wanted to hurt her—lashed out.

“And I, too… never once wished for you to be my sister.”

The words were a blade. One that cut her and then came back to lodge itself deep into Rashid’s own chest.

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