The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 61

What a foolish man.

Sheffer Boren smirked to himself. No matter what Count Clu believed, there was no way the ducal seat would fall into the hands of such a pathetic man.

Rashid Hespelt wasn’t someone to be underestimated. Sheffer never truly thought this plan would bring the young Duke down entirely. That wasn’t the goal.

All he wanted was a single blemish. A small, almost invisible flaw.

Even if it wasn’t enough to destroy Rashid, it would be enough to cast doubt. And if that tiny crack grew… if it grew large enough to shake his foundation, that would be enough.

“Bring me proof, and you’ll be rewarded.”

Just thinking of Count Clu’s promise tugged a twisted smile from Sheffer’s lips—but it faded almost immediately.

Tericia Hespelt.

At the thought of her name, Sheffer’s expression soured.

Lady Boren had been ambitious and cunning—foolish in just the right way to be useful to him. He had stayed close, feeding her ego, playing the game.

But that woman—that girl—ruined everything.

Yes, it had been his own lack of restraint that started the fire. But had she not retaliated so viciously, none of this would’ve escalated.

It wasn’t the young Duke he despised most—it was Tericia. He vowed again, quietly and viciously, that he would make her pay.

“This is the place,” said the temple attendant leading him, stopping in front of a small, tucked-away room.

“Remember—only thirty minutes.”

“Of course. I’ll just confirm and be on my way,” Sheffer replied, his tone pleasant.

He stepped inside.

The room was simple, modest. For a chamber that held the bloodline records of the ducal house, Sheffer had expected something grander—more ceremonial.

A cool air lingered. A lone torch flickered on the wall, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls.

In the center of the room stood a stone table. Atop it rested an aged scroll—thick and yellowed with time, the pages rolled into a heavy bundle.

Even with printing long since refined, noble lineages were still recorded the old way—handwritten and preserved, generation after generation.

Like the root of a great tree, the main family and its branches all wove together into a single, ancestral record.

Without a word, Sheffer stepped forward and unrolled the scroll.

His eyes scanned the faded ink, trailing down the family tree like a hunter tracking prey.

Then—he stopped.

“There it is…”

He muttered under his breath, a cold glint in his eyes.

There was the name of Duke Jester Karl Hespelt, the previous head of the family. Below it, the name of his wife, the late duchess. Beneath them, Rashid Karlo Hespelt.

After the duchess’s death, Jester had been joined to Katrina Boren Hespelt—and beneath that union… was Tericia’s name.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

He had expected this. Lady Boren had never once mentioned anything about the temple’s record. That silence told him all he needed.

He had only fed Count Clu the lie he wanted to hear.

“If it exists… I’ll just erase it.”

He muttered under his breath, pulling a small vial from his coat.

Carefully, he uncorked it and tilted it above the scroll—right over Tericia’s name.

Drip. Drip.

The clear liquid spilled drop by drop onto the parchment, soaking into the page.

And then, like magic, the ink began to dissolve.

Her name faded, vanished—disappearing into nothing as if it had never been there.

“Heh… hehehe…”

A low, sinister chuckle slipped from Sheffer’s lips.

Her name was gone. That girl—Tericia—was no longer part of the Hespelt line. Not officially. Not on paper.

She was now an outsider.

His laughter grew louder, echoing off the cold stone.

Finally… finally!

He had carved a sliver of doubt into the seemingly flawless Hespelt line. A single flaw that would spread, like a hairline crack in a mirror, until it shattered.

It began with her.

He could hardly contain his glee.

The sacred chamber holding the Hespelt family tree rang with Sheffer Boren’s laughter.

Meanwhile, Count Clu was pacing anxiously in his study.

It had been days since Sheffer had left, and still no word. Clu gritted his teeth, going over the man’s final promise in his mind.

“The girl’s name isn’t in the family tree.”

The claim had shocked him to his core.

He had wanted to confirm it himself—but as he couldn’t leave his territory, he had sent Sheffer in his stead.

A week had passed. By now, the man should’ve returned—with results.

If he doesn’t hurry, I’ll miss that damn banquet.

Rashid Hespelt’s birthday banquet had become the talk of the capital—drawing attention from even the distant noble families.

It would be Rashid’s first official banquet since inheriting the title.

If he revealed the truth there, in front of them all, the impact would be enormous.

Knock knock.

Someone tapped at the door.

“Count, he’s returned.”

Clu’s pacing stopped. At once, he straightened his clothes and took a deep breath, forcing calm into his demeanor.

Appearing impatient wouldn’t help him now.

He sat back in his chair, adopting a proud, measured pose.

“Send him in.”

The door opened. Sheffer entered.

“Well?” Clu asked, rising despite himself.

So much for calm. His eagerness betrayed him.

Sheffer noticed, of course—but hid his amusement.

He gave a respectful bow and raised his head, wearing the perfect mask of quiet triumph.

“I found it, Count. Just as the lady said—her name was not listed.”

Clu froze.

He stumbled back, collapsing into his chair like he’d been struck.

“No… Impossible. A ducal house… deceived by a mere girl?”

Anyone watching might have thought he was heartbroken on behalf of the Hespelt name.

But they would’ve been wrong. Very wrong.

Count Clu covered his face with both hands, as if trying to hide his emotions.

But Sheffer saw it—just before his hands went up, the wide grin that had stretched across the count’s face. He was already picturing the reward, the rise in power, the triumph.

“Good. So, how should we proceed?” the count asked, lips twitching with anticipation. “We’ll expose the truth at that brat’s birthday banquet. And I’ll make it clear—no one but I can fix this disgrace upon the empire.”

“Simply stating it won’t be enough,” Sheffer added, smooth and calculating. “You’ll need certified proof.”

“Certification… of course. If I’m the only one saying it, that bastard Rashid might turn the tables on me.”

Count Clu grimaced and instinctively touched his once-broken nose. Though mostly healed, it had never quite returned to its original shape—a symbol of the shame he’d suffered.

“That’s why I brought a priest with me.”

“A priest?”

“Yes. If a temple priest acts as a witness, who could question your integrity or contribution?”

“True…”

Traditionally, the temples managed noble family lineages. A priest’s testimony held significant weight, especially if the priest was of high standing.

Sheffer, of course, did not elaborate on the priest’s exact status. Instead, he pivoted the conversation.

“However… you still can’t leave your estate, can you? The Duke still has that restriction on you.”

“Who dares to bar me from going where I please?!” Count Clu roared, thumping his cane on the floor.

“There’s no need to worry about that,” he said, smiling slyly. “I have my ways.”

His voice dripped with malice. His twisted grin said it all—he was looking forward to Rashid’s banquet with the hunger of a man ready to tear something down.

“Understood, my lord. I’ll arrange for the priest to be ready in time for the banquet.”

Sheffer bowed deeply. A similar crooked smile lingered on his face.

Meanwhile, Tericia was lost in thought.

Her hand had stopped moving for some time, but she hadn’t noticed. The ink on the tip of her pen had dried, and the invitation she’d been working on sat unfinished.

“What would make a good birthday present for Rashid…”

The preparations for his birthday banquet were going smoothly. The food, decorations, and logistics had all been ordered. Only the invitations remained.

She was personally writing out invitations for the most important guests. Others were being handled by her staff, but she still oversaw them to ensure everything was perfect.

The first invitation she wrote had been addressed to the former Duke, currently residing in the Hespelt family’s territorial estate.

She didn’t expect him to come. After stepping down, he’d cut himself off from high society almost entirely. He received no visitors, responded to no invitations.

In the beginning, some nobles had still reached out, hoping for influence or patronage. But the consistent refusals had dried up even those attempts.

Tericia knew this was for Rashid’s sake.

It would look bad for the previous Duke to continue mingling in society while his successor tried to establish himself.

I didn’t think he would be so considerate…

If the transition had been weaker—if Rashid had inherited the title through ordinary means—it would’ve been different.

But the former Duke still held significant influence, and Rashid’s sudden succession had left many whispering. They were under constant scrutiny.

And so, his father chose silence—to show his support not through words, but through absence.

Still, Tericia hoped he would come.

She wanted him to see how much his son had grown. How well he held his position. She wanted him to see Rashid standing strong, as a true Duke.

And for that moment… she wanted the perfect gift.

“What could I possibly give him?”

She set the pen down and stared out the window.

Jewels? He had plenty—and no particular interest in them.
Cufflinks? Also unnecessary—he had dozens.
Books? The Hespelt library lacked nothing.
A sword? Rashid only used the family’s heirloom blade.
A horse? He already had one—raised and trained with him since childhood.

“What can I give him that he’ll truly appreciate…?”

Knock knock.

The knock on her door broke her thoughts. A calm voice followed.

“My lady, it’s Heinz.”

“Come in.”

Tericia capped the ink bottle and set the invitations aside. Finishing them would have to wait.

Heinz entered, bowed respectfully, and sat at her invitation.

“Did you call for me, my lady?”

“It’s about the banquet security arrangements.”

“We’re nearly finished with preparations,” he said.

Together, they went over the final logistics. Heinz would oversee security for the estate. Uniformed knights would be present inside the ballroom, while fully armed guards patrolled the perimeter in rotating shifts.

“We decided not to have armed guards inside the hall,” Heinz explained, “so as not to disturb the guests.”

“That makes sense…”

Tericia exhaled, visibly relieved. That covered nearly everything.

Which meant…

“Sir Heinz.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Are you… busy right now?”

“My official duties are finished for the day.”

Her strange question gave him pause, and his answer came with a hint of confusion.

“Then… would you accompany me for a short outing?”

“…Pardon?”

“I need your help with something.”

She smiled sweetly.

That warm, springlike smile shouldn’t have felt so chilling.

But Heinz couldn’t shake the feeling.

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