The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 49

The night was dark.

Count Clu sat on the sofa in his study, completely drunk. The stench of alcohol clung to him more strongly than the liquor spilled from the fallen bottle beside him.

How dare he…

No matter how many times he replayed the scene in his mind, the fury didn’t fade. His anger kept boiling over. The face of that arrogant boy, who had stolen what was his and looked down on him with contempt, wouldn’t leave his thoughts.

That little brat, barely out of childhood, dared to look down on me?

“Damn it…! Argh!”

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Count Clu suddenly let out a painful cry. His nose throbbed—broken by Rashid’s blow. Even the slightest movement sent sharp pain through his swollen face.

The injury sat in the center of his face, a humiliating symbol of his defeat. Just thinking about it made his blood boil.

Crash!

Unable to hold back, Count Clu slammed the table, sending bottles tumbling. One shattered loudly on the floor.

“Lock me up in my own estate? Those bastards!”

His roar echoed beyond the room, but he didn’t care.

He began throwing things, flipping furniture, trashing the study in a wild frenzy. Only after he’d turned the room upside down did his breathing start to slow.

His estate had been cut off, and his family’s lifeblood—the mining business—had been stripped away. Some of his retainers had even fled, convinced the Clu family was finished.

“Just wait. I’m not going down like this.”

A knock came at the door.

“Master, a man named Sheffer Boren has come to see you.”

“Throw him out! Do I look like I’m in any condition to meet someone right now?!”

“Ah—yes, sir… understood.”

The servant was about to leave when something occurred to the Count.

“Wait. What did you say his name was?”

“He said you’d recognize the name Boren, my lord.”

“…Boren?”

Clu furrowed his brow, thinking.

Boren… wasn’t that the name of that woman? The one who tried to worm her way into Hespelt…

“I see…”

The name had appeared at just the right moment to catch his interest. It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

“Bring him to the drawing room.”

With shaky hands, Count Clu straightened his tie and ran his fingers through his hair. This visitor might be useful. No—he was almost certain. His instincts were rarely wrong.

For the first time in a while, a twisted smile crept onto his face. He headed quickly toward the drawing room.

“Count Clu.”

The man bowed deeply as the Count entered. His appearance was ragged and worn.

His brown hair was greasy and clumped, as if it hadn’t been washed in days. The once-fine clothes he wore were now frayed and stained, giving off the clear stench of poverty and hardship.

Count Clu wrinkled his nose at the foul odor.

“What do you want?”

He’d been expecting something better. Instead, this man’s presence only added to his irritation.

“You’ve been injured,” the man remarked, staring directly at Clu’s bruised and swollen face.

The Count’s mood turned even worse. His nose throbbed again, as if on cue.

Once considered handsome, his face was now disfigured. The doctor had warned him the broken nose might not heal properly. He couldn’t stand the whispers, the glances. It felt like everyone was laughing at him.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

“If you have nothing useful to say, get out. I’m not wasting another second on you.”

He stood to leave.

“Hespelt.”

The word made Count Clu freeze mid-step.

“I hear House Hespelt took control of your family’s mining rights,” the man continued calmly, “and you’re now forbidden from leaving your own estate.”

“…What’s your point?”

His voice sharpened. Slowly, he sat back down.

“You didn’t come here just to mock me.”

His jaw clenched tightly.

The man gave a slow, knowing smile.

“Don’t you want revenge?”

“Revenge…?”

Clu’s eyes narrowed and gleamed.

It was a sweet, intoxicating word. If he could erase his disgrace—if he could make them pay—there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

“They dared to injure the rightful heir of Hespelt,” the man said, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

“You should take back what’s yours. After all, you are the true successor to the Hespelt line.”

“…Yes. That’s right. I am.”

Clu repeated the words under his breath, savoring them. The rights to Hespelt. The more he thought about it, the sweeter it sounded.

“You said you had an idea?”

“Rashid Hespelt’s weakness… is that woman.”

Tericia Hespelt.

Clu’s teeth clenched. Just hearing her name made him furious. It wouldn’t be wrong to say everything had started because of her.

“If we use her, we can lure him in. For example, if we make it look like she left the household of her own will…”

“And you think that would be enough to get revenge?”

“He’s completely taken with her. He’d come after her without hesitation. That’s when you strike. No matter how skilled he is, he can’t stand against dozens of seasoned mercenaries.”

“…Mercenaries?”

“Ones who’ve lived on the battlefield. Killers for hire. They’ll do anything for the right price. I know people who can connect us.”

It wasn’t exactly the plan Count Clu had imagined—but it wasn’t a bad one either.

I was going to use Tericia to bait Rashid, take him out, and then claim the dukedom by declaring myself the rightful heir…

But maybe he didn’t need to drag things out. If he could take both of them down in one move—what could be better?

“Even if he’s just a brat, that one’s no pushover. I don’t know how, but I’ve heard his swordsmanship is impressive. And that Heinz is always by his side.”

“That’s exactly why we use that woman,” the man replied smoothly, as if he’d expected this concern.

“That boy loses all sense when it comes to his so-called sister.”

“There’s a method I have in mind,” the man continued. “But…”

“But?” Count Clu asked, narrowing his eyes.

“To explain it fully, it would be better if I were working directly under you, my lord. It’s not something I can discuss lightly here and now.”

Count Clu’s face twitched with irritation. This is exactly why low-born scum are a problem. Always waiting for the perfect moment to beg for crumbs.

Still, the man’s proposal had promise. If things went well, he could take out both of them at once. That alone was enough to keep his temper in check.

“…What do you want, then? Gold? Land?”

“I only want revenge,” the man said, lowering his voice. “They’ve wronged me too.”

Count Clu said nothing, studying him.

“As long as I get revenge,” the man added, his tone deliberately pitiful, “I don’t want anything else.”

After a brief pause, Count Clu stood up and called for a servant.

“Give this man something to eat, fresh clothes, and a place to stay. He’ll remain here from now on.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Satisfied, the Count turned to leave the drawing room, but paused mid-step, suddenly remembering something.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Sheffer Boren, my lord.”

The man bowed deeply. Behind his lowered head, a sly grin crept across his face.

＊＊＊

Sarah Lays had returned to the Hespelt estate after managing the flower gardens in Alpen. As soon as she arrived, she asked for Lady Tericia.

“Sarah!”

Tericia greeted her longtime assistant warmly.

“I’m back, my lady.”

“Let’s sit and talk over some tea.”

Sarah’s face had tanned slightly from working outdoors, giving her a healthier glow. Though she looked tired, there was a spark of liveliness that made her presence reassuring.

Once a maid brought in tea and sweets, then quietly stepped out, Tericia leaned back in her chair.

“You look well.”

“It’s been busy, but I enjoy the work.”

Her words brought a smile to Tericia’s face.

Since the hunting festival, Tericia had avoided going out. Rashid didn’t like her leaving the estate alone, so she tried to stay home whenever possible.

Because of that, Sarah had taken full charge of the garden operations and had been managing them on her own.

Rashid had wanted to accompany her every time he had an errand outside, but after inheriting the title of Duke, his schedule had only gotten busier. More often than not, it was Heinz or another knight who accompanied Tericia when necessary.

He clearly wasn’t thrilled about it, but there was no helping it.

Once, Tericia had overheard him grumbling that he regretted taking the title in the first place—and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I was a bit worried it might be too much for you.”

“I enjoy what I do. I promise I’m doing fine.”

The honesty in Sarah’s cheerful face helped put Tericia at ease.

“As you suggested, we expanded the section for Sedamen flowers.”

“Really?”

“My mother was thrilled.”

“I can imagine.”

The image of Lady Lays, with her warm smile, came to mind. Tericia smiled without meaning to.

Seeing that, Sarah smiled too, relieved.

“My lady, you look well too.”

Instead of replying, Tericia raised her teacup with a quiet smile playing on her lips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well… you have a tendency to get caught up in… unusual situations,” Sarah said carefully, recalling the day Tericia had gone missing during the hunting festival.

That day had thrown the entire household into chaos. Not only had Lady Tericia vanished, but Rashid had gone after her and disappeared as well.

If the young Duke hadn’t given detailed instructions before leaving, things could have turned out far worse.

“You sound just like Rashid.”

“I completely understand His Grace.”

At that, Tericia laughed aloud, her voice light and clear.

“I honestly don’t know why he makes such a fuss.”

But her smile quickly faded—just for a second, so brief that Sarah didn’t notice.

Tericia masked her expression and shifted the conversation back to work.

“Sarah, how much fragrance can we prepare right now?”

“We don’t have enough for mass production, but we do have a good stock set aside that I can prepare immediately.”

“Enough to give out as gifts at the tea party will be fine.”

“In that case, we can start tomorrow. You’re really going to host one?”

“I figured it’s about time I rejoined society a little.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. Her lady had always kept to herself far too much—quietly tucked away in the estate, as if she didn’t exist in noble society at all.

“His Grace is always concerned about you.”

“I know. I do… but…”

“He’s a bit overprotective.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking,” Tericia muttered with a fond sigh.

“It’s too much, really. I’m not a child. If I so much as cough, he comes running.”

Her half-joking complaint made Sarah laugh. No matter what anyone said, the new Duke had completely taken control of the estate.

And everyone knew that Rashid’s mood—and, by extension, the mood of the whole estate—depended heavily on how Tericia was feeling.

It was how Rashid had given her a firm standing in the house, despite her ambiguous position. Tericia, understanding this, had been trying her best to fulfill her role and find her place.

“The trading company—has it started up properly?”

“Yes, everything’s moving along smoothly.”

“Let’s use the tea party to introduce the fragrance. We’ll let the guests sample it, give them some as gifts, and then consider taking bulk orders afterward.”

“That amount is manageable with what we have in the garden. I’ve already dried flowers and leaves, so I can start immediately. However…”

Sarah paused to calculate how much more they could harvest within the month. For just a fragrance sample, the quantity they’d prepared seemed excessive.

“My lady…”

“Hm?”

What are you really planning to do? The words almost left Sarah’s lips, but she stopped herself.

That wasn’t her place.

Though Tericia wore a gentle smile, Sarah knew she was far from the naive noblewoman she appeared to be. She looked fragile—but she was never one to let anyone see through her.

Swallowing her curiosity, Sarah simply bowed her head respectfully.

“I’ll secure as much as I can.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

Tericia raised her cup again, her expression a little more at ease.

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