The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 97

Count Clu had been imprisoned in the underground cells. For over an entire season.

Tericia hadn’t known. Of course, she hadn’t after storming out of the banquet that night, she had taken the Crown Prince’s hand and gone to the palace. And from there, straight to the province.

By the time she’d returned to the Hespelt estate with Rashid, she had been focused on creating Panarin and preparing supplies for the war.
Count Clu hadn’t crossed her mind once.

No, more truthfully, she had deliberately avoided thinking of him.

But now…

“…He’s missing?”

A chill pulsed from her chest.
A dull ache bloomed where Count Clu’s blade had pierced her in her previous life.

“My lady, the evacuation is complete.”

It was Harris. His voice drew her back, and she pressed a hand to her chest, taking a deep breath before straightening her back.

Count Clu’s disappearance gnawed at her.

But he had been locked up for over a season. What damage could he possibly do now?

They couldn’t spare knights to search for him.
Not when the estate’s defenders were already stretched thin.

“For now, shut the gates. We wait for the Crown Prince’s guards to arrive.”

She turned to the deputy captain.
“For the moment, you are commander of the Hespelt knights. Protect everyone here.”

“I will carry out your orders,” he said, bowing deeply before hurrying toward the burning annex. From now on, he would guard the estate from without, not within.

Tericia raised her chin.

Now, she had to calm the hearts of those who’d gathered here—people who were looking to her for strength. She had to be composed—for their sake.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

She bit down on her lip. She couldn’t afford to be afraid.
She had to endure—no matter what—until Rashid returned.

You’re alive, aren’t you? You promised me. You said you’d come back no matter what.

If it’s you… if you’re alive, then I can endure anything.

Swallowing down the sob rising in her throat, Tericia walked forward.

And with her own hand, she shut the great doors behind her.

She headed for the banquet hall, where the others had gathered. As she stepped inside, all eyes turned to her. The people inside had been murmuring anxiously—now they stared in silence.

“My lady!”

“What’s happening out there?”

“Are we going to be okay?”

“My lady…”

The fear was palpable.

But Tericia offered them a gentle smile—the same soft look they had always known. Her voice was steady.

“There’s no need to worry. The Hespelt knights are doing everything they can, and the Crown Prince’s guards will arrive shortly.”

“But my lady…”
One of the servants spoke up, voice trembling. “The Duke… we heard he’s… he’s dead…”

Tericia’s eyes moved to the voice.

“I just came from the palace. I spoke to His Highness myself. The Duke is alive.”

Gasps spread through the hall.

“The war is over. He’s simply been delayed, helping with the aftermath. As for the messenger who came earlier—” her eyes darkened—
“And this sudden attack…”

She looked around the room, gaze sharp and decisive.

“They are the work of opportunists. Cowards who dare to strike House Hespelt in the confusion of war. This is nothing but an act of treachery. We will resolve it swiftly.”

“But… but is it really true? That the Duke is alive?”

Tericia smiled again—so gently, so confidently, that people blinked in surprise.

“The Duke is on his way home. Sir Heinz and the knights are already returning. These enemies know that—so they moved quickly, before the full might of Hespelt came back. That’s why they struck now.”

Another murmured, “Then the news we received earlier…”

Tericia turned her head, her smile deepening—calm and poised, just as always.

“Official word of a Duke’s death does not come from the lips of a stranger. It comes with his body—or at the very least, verified proof. A nameless knight with no affiliation cannot be trusted. I believe in House Hespelt. I believe in our Duke.”

Yes… I should have done this in my last life too.

I should’ve waited. Fought to the end. Demanded proof before accepting his death.

Maybe then, things would’ve been different.

BOOM.

A deafening impact shook the entire estate. The banquet hall quaked.

Everyone crouched, covering their heads. A few let out cries of terror.

But Tericia stood. Unflinching. Her eyes locked on the banquet hall doors.

If anyone entered now, she’d be the first to see.

“My lady! You must take cover! Please!”

Mandy’s voice trembled as she pulled on Tericia’s sleeve. But Tericia didn’t move.

Soft weeping began to spread in the room.
Yet no one could cry openly—not when the Lady of Hespelt stood like a pillar among them.

Outside, everything had gone eerily silent.

The clash of steel—the cries of battle—had vanished.

And as the stillness grew unbearable, Tericia took a single step toward the door.

“My lady!”

Mandy gasped and reached out for Tericia—
but her hand caught only empty air, brushing the hem of her dress as Tericia stepped forward.

Creeeaaaak.

The sound grated like nails against stone. The banquet hall doors creaked open—
and through the crack, a hunched silhouette stepped inside.

It was Count Clu.

BOOM!

The world flashed white.

A roar like the heavens splitting in half echoed across the estate.
Rain came next—a sudden downpour that beat against the windows in a pounding fury.

People in the hall shrank back, startled by the thunder, by the storm that had broken loose with terrifying timing.

At the center of it all stood only two:
Tericia and Count Clu.

“…How are you… here?”

Her voice trembled.

This was not the Count Clu she remembered.
Gone was the heavyset man who had smirked with pride and cruelty.
In his place stood a gaunt, withered figure—his shoulders hunched, his back bent, his face hollowed by time and madness.

He looked around the room with a vacant stare, unfocused eyes drifting from wall to wall…
Until they found her.

And in that moment—FLASH.
Lightning lit the hall again, casting its light directly across his face.

“…Tericia,”

He groaned her name like a man waking from a long-fevered dream.

Tericia bit her lip, her expression pale.

She had seen this scene before— Not exactly like this, but close enough.

In her last life, he had approached her dressed in mourning black,
hiding a poisoned dagger behind a kind uncle’s smile.

“So, you finally look the part of a proper Hespelt lady.”

FLASH.
The past bled into the present.

Banners that no longer existed swayed in a phantom breeze.
A corridor of shadow stretched where once the banquet hall stood— and in its center: death.

No.

Tericia clenched her fists and looked down.
His hand held a long blade—openly, this time.

He wasn’t hiding it.

There was no false pretense now.

She couldn’t move.
Her legs were rooted to the floor, frozen in place.

“…granted to someone like you… just lucky enough to stumble in…”

He muttered in a growl, voice broken, dragging his feet toward her.
As he came closer, his words became clearer.

“How dare you—how dare you sit in my place, in my Hespelt!”

The shadows from her past pooled at her feet like spilled blood.
She could feel them trying to bind her again.

“If you were a true Hespelt, you’d have followed Rashid into the grave.”

There was nothing there—no blood, no bodies.
But to Tericia, it was as if the floor was slick with the past.

The Count raised his arm.

His blade gleamed with malice. It reflected the storm, the lightning, the death.

“Bloodlines cannot be erased…”

All around her, people cried out.
Mandy’s voice, others’ screams—they passed her ears like wind.
She couldn’t hear them.

Not with Count Clu’s voice ringing in her skull.

“Hespelt is mine!”

FLASH!
His blade caught the light—aimed straight for her.

CRASH!

Suddenly, the window shattered.

A black horse burst through the glass like a shadow of death—
and atop it, cloaked in the fury of storm and steel, rode Rashid Carlo Hespelt.

He drove the horse straight at Count Clu.
As it reared up, the room shook with its cry.

And then—

SHLICK.

A clean arc of silver flashed through the air.

The blade swept across Count Clu’s throat, cutting his final words short.

A scream—raw and terrible—ripped through the air.

Blood splattered across the floor.

And from the mouth of it all, a voice called out to her—“TERICIA!!”

The voice she had prayed for, dreamed of, and clung to with every breath.

Rashid.

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