The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 66

“Please, my lady. I’m asking you don’t scream.”

Sheffer slowly removed his hand, despite saying something that would make anyone want to scream. He could only hope the young lady would stay calm.

“……”

Thankfully, the noble young lady didn’t cry out. Just moments ago, she’d looked terrified enough to have a full-blown fit the second his hand came off her mouth—but surprisingly, she remained composed.

“…You said you’re Count Clu?”

Instead of panicking, she calmly asked for confirmation.

“That’s right. I am of Hespelt’s direct bloodline, nephew of the previous Duke—”

“Oh, I see.”

She cut him off with a pleasant smile. But something about that smile looked painted on, unnatural. Sheffer felt a chill crawl down his spine.

Count Clu, however, noticed nothing.

“You must have had quite a journey from your estate. But why arrive like this, if I may ask? Surely, you don’t have a reason to avoid entering through the proper way…?”

“What?! How dare—!”

The Count’s face flushed red at the hit to his pride.

The young lady’s smile deepened. It was almost cold.

“I believe I can help you, Count.”

“…What?”

“I’ve already been inside. I’ve spoken with the hosts personally. If you enter with me, no one will question it.”

Count Clu narrowed his eyes.

Even someone as arrogant and pompous as him could sense something was off.

He looked her over. She was clearly a noble lady in both bearing and appearance.

Lowering his voice slightly, he asked, “What are you after? Why help me?”

“You are of the Duke’s bloodline, my lord. It’s only proper that I offer my assistance.”

She smiled again—white teeth, calm voice, perfect form—but something about it didn’t feel right.

Still, the Count was too pleased with her words to notice.

“I shall remember this favor, my lady. One day, I will repay you.”

Rather than respond, she simply gathered her dress and gave a graceful curtsy.

Then, like an escort, she moved beside him, matching his stride as they entered the estate together.

It looked like a noble pair arriving together.

Sheffer watched them go, then turned to the cleric standing nearby.

“Make sure you don’t mess this up.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll give my testimony, then disappear.”

Getting into the Hespelt estate had turned out to be easier than expected. All that was left was to see how it all played out.

Foolish man.

To think that bringing down Duke Rashid would be so easy.

Just removing the girl attached to him would be enough to deal a blow. That would be sufficient.

No matter how the rest unfolded, there was no longer any reason for Sheffer to stick around.

He smirked—then gradually slowed his steps, vanishing into the shadows.

“Your Highness! I have something I must report!”

Count Clu’s voice shattered the calm of the banquet.

The music guided him through the entrance of the hall—and standing at the center, as if waiting, was Crown Prince Ludwig. At least, that’s how it felt to him.

Basking in the attention, Clu walked proudly toward the center of the ballroom.

“Before the young sun of Latran, I, Franz Clu—loyal noble of the realm—offer my greetings.”

He bowed deeply, his voice theatrical. A flicker of irritation passed across Ludwig’s brow.

Rashid’s face, too, turned rigid.

Count Clu was not someone who should have been here.

He was under house arrest in his estate. Leaving without his liege lord’s permission was a serious offense.

Yet he appeared here boldly, as though nothing were wrong.

Of course, most nobles had no idea about his confinement. The events of the hunting festival two years ago had been kept tightly under wraps.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. Especially not when that scheming woman has twisted everything!

As he basked in the attention of the crowd, a deep satisfaction filled his chest.

He smiled broadly and began to speak.

“Rashid, my beloved nephew.”

He spread his arms with exaggerated warmth.

“We’ve had our misunderstandings. And though I know I should have stayed silent… I couldn’t sit idly by and let our noble house be brought low by that woman’s deceit. Even if it brings shame to our name, this must be said.”

His face, painted with feigned sorrow, caused Rashid’s expression to turn to ice.

Rashid’s gaze shifted past the Count—toward the back.

Heinz stood ready with the knights, his expression set, waiting for the signal.

Shall we remove him?

That was the silent question on his face.

Rashid gave a subtle shake of his head. He intended to hear the man out.

“You’ve been deceived by her. That woman—!”

Count Clu paused dramatically.

The music had stopped. The room had gone still. Every eye was on him.

He was completely immersed in the moment, as if this entire audience had been assembled for his benefit.

Then, slowly, he raised his hand and pointed.

At the end of his finger…

“…She is not of House Hespelt!”

Lady Tericia stood there.

Stunned, she froze in place. Her violet eyes—usually glowing with quiet light—looked now like glass, void of life.

Rashid’s brow furrowed sharply. His eyes snapped toward her.

He dares accuse Tericia—?!

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His hand curled into a fist, veins standing out across his knuckles.

Shall I cut him down?

It didn’t need to be a sword.

Even a small blade would have been enough to end him right there.

Rashid’s killing intent had chilled the air, but Count Clu, oblivious to the tension, continued speaking.

“That wretched woman—that girl—has never once had her name recorded in the family registry of House Hespelt!”

Step.

Finally, Rashid moved.

Believing the movement was in response to him, Count Clu spread his arms wide, speaking as if he were a martyr sacrificing himself for the greater good.

“Believe me, Rashid! Everything I’ve done—it’s for you and for House Hespelt—!”

“You dare.”

Step.

Rashid slowly closed the distance between them.

“You dare lay a finger on my sister?”

“Sister? You still don’t understand what I’m saying?”

“…Hah.”

A bitter scoff escaped Rashid’s lips as the corner of his mouth curled coldly.

“I warned you. I told you if you touched her again… you’d regret being alive.”

In one swift motion, Rashid grabbed the Count by the collar—and with one hand, lifted the grown man off the ground.

“W-Wait, no! What I said is the truth! I even brought a cleric to prove it!”

“A cleric?”

“There! Look!”

Where the Count pointed, a man had removed his hood and stood now in the robe of a High Cleric.

Though few recognized his face, the robe alone confirmed that his rank was enough to validate serious claims.

Seeing the room’s attention shift to him, the cleric folded his hands in front of his chest and bowed in a formal ecclesiastical gesture. Then he spoke.

“In the name of the Divine, I swear—what the Count has said is true. Lady Tericia’s name does not appear anywhere in the Hespelt family registry.”

To affirm the truth of his words, he clutched his holy pendant tightly as he declared it.

A stunned murmur spread rapidly through the ballroom. Shock, confusion, and disbelief intermingled in the air. All eyes turned to Lady Tericia.

She was frozen in place, completely overwhelmed.

Her face had turned so pale, it wouldn’t have been surprising if she collapsed on the spot.

With great effort, Tericia forced her body to move, one step at a time toward Rashid.

She reached out, gently placing her hand on the arm holding Count Clu by the collar.

“…Stop.”

“Tericia—”

Rashid began, but Tericia shook her head.

She knew the truth.

Her name had been officially added to the Hespelt registry when Lady Borren married the late Duke Zester.

Both she and Rashid were aware of this.

But if her name wasn’t there now—or if someone had quietly erased it, making it seem as though it had never been there—

Then someone is using me to hurt Rashid.

Just like what happened… before.

What do I do? How can I protect him without becoming his weakness?

The thoughts spiraled, irrational but persistent.

Maybe disappearing… is the only way I can help him.

She looked around.

The room was full of royalty and high-ranking nobles. Any further commotion would only harm Rashid’s reputation.

These people might offer smiles and support now—but the moment they sensed weakness, they would turn on him in an instant. She knew that better than anyone. She had seen it.

This scandal—caused by her presence—would become easy fodder for those who already looked for reasons to resent him.

Maybe Rashid had the strength to protect her. Maybe he could challenge the accusations and prove the Count’s claims false.

But I won’t let it come to that. If I am to be your weakness… then I’ll choose to disappear before it happens.

Tericia looked up at Rashid, a silent resolution in her eyes.

And Rashid saw it.

His expression twisted with emotion.

A storm surged in his golden eyes, his emotions too tangled to contain.

“…Don’t say a word.”

Rashid whispered, his voice low and strained, barely holding on to his composure.

“If you speak—if you so much as say one word—then I will cut off the ears of every person who hears it.”

“Rashid!”

“I don’t care about rank or status. Anyone who looks at you with impure eyes, anyone who listens to those vile words… I’ll kill them all.”

His golden eyes blazed like fire.

“So please… don’t think about anything. Just take a breath and wait.”

He turned his gaze back to Count Clu. His hand clenched tighter around the Count’s neck, making the man writhe in pain.

“So what.”

Rashid’s lips curved into a slow, cold smile. His eyes narrowed slightly.

In that moment, his beauty was terrifying—so much so that even Count Clu seemed to forget his situation, momentarily lost in awe.

“So what if she isn’t of Hespelt blood?”

His voice echoed clearly through the silent hall.

“What problem is there… if my sister—no, if Tericia—isn’t of Hespelt descent?”

“R-Rashid…!”

The Count choked out the words, barely able to speak as Rashid’s grip tightened.

Rashid’s smile deepened.

“The agreement between my father, Duke Zester Hespelt, and the late Lady Borren—do you think you can drag it through the mud with this cheap little stunt?”

And with a casual flick, he flung Count Clu away.

Thud.

The Count crashed to the floor with a heavy, humiliating sound.

Above him stood Rashid—his golden eyes like flame, filled with cold contempt.

The Count had none of it—no gold, no light.

All he could do was lie there, powerless, under the weight of Hespelt’s legacy.

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