The Princess’s Final Wish Before Her Time Runs Out - Chapter 99

The woman stood alone in a long, dark hallway.

Beneath fluttering black flags of mourning, she lit a candle while dressed in a black funeral gown. It was a candle for the dead.

Who had died?

Rashid looked at her, wondering.

Her face was full of sorrow. She seemed calm on the outside, but inside, she was drowning in grief. The sadness radiating from her slowly consumed Rashid.

Who passed away?

He continued to watch her in silence.

She lit the candles, one by one, surrounding the coffin. And finally, when all of them were lit, she stood still, gazing at the coffin. Then she reached out and gently touched it.

‘…….’

She whispered something softly, but he couldn’t hear the words.

Will she cry? If she does, it’ll hurt—so much.

But she didn’t cry. Her hand, which had been caressing the coffin, fell limply to her side. The pain she felt, unbearable and raw, washed over Rashid again.

Why did that person leave her behind? How could he walk away from someone who grieved him so deeply?

If it were me—if someone loved me enough to mourn like that—I would fight to stay alive. I would never leave her alone.

Rashid took a step toward her. Just then—

“…Sia.”

Someone called her name and approached. The woman turned to look.

Her golden-brown hair flowed and swayed. In her eyes, sadness and anger lay quietly, buried deep.

And that’s when Rashid realized who she was.

Tericia. My beautiful, beloved Tericia.

Without thinking, he stepped forward. But the man who had been walking toward her passed straight through Rashid, as if he weren’t there.

It was Count Clu.

“How lucky… to stumble your way in like that…”

“How dare you stand here, in my Hespelt, in my place!”

Rashid’s eyes widened as he watched.

Behind Count Clu’s back, hidden from view, was a sword—long enough to pierce through the body of a fragile woman with ease.

No!

Rashid reached out desperately, but his body wouldn’t respond. He tried to move, to step forward, but his legs felt frozen in place, like they were stuck to the floor.

Count Clu took another step toward Tericia. And then, without hesitation, he drove the sword into her chest.

Her body slowly collapsed. The blade caught the light as it pierced her. Blood began to spread behind her fallen figure.

“Haha! Hespelt is mine now!”

Count Clu turned away from her, laughing, and disappeared into the shadows.

I need to pull out that sword. If I leave it like this, my Tericia—

Rashid rushed to her and grabbed the sword embedded in her chest. But his hands passed right through it. He tried again and again, but he couldn’t hold it.

The blood kept spreading—like a red carpet beneath her back.

No… Tericia!

“…Rashid.”

From her barely moving lips, she whispered his name.

“…Rashid.”

I’m here. I’m right here, Tericia.

“…Rashid, I’m sorry… If only I hadn’t been here…”

No, Tericia. Don’t say that. Don’t leave me. Without you, I can’t live. Please…

“…Rashid…”

The light slowly faded from her eyes. And when it disappeared completely—

“Tericia!”

Rashid cried out her name like a scream.

Gasping, struggling to breathe, Rashid shot up from the snow. The world around him was pure white—he was the only one there.

By his side, his loyal horse pawed the ground, standing guard as if to protect him.

Everything came rushing back.

The moment snow began falling on the soldiers, his instincts took over. He had swung his sword, scattering the snow with a burst of energy. But he hadn’t checked his footing and ended up falling off a cliff.

And while unconscious—he had seen that vision.

He looked at his trembling hands. His whole body was shaking. But not from the cold.

The hands he had just seen—those ghost-like hands he couldn’t touch anything with—were now real.

A dream. Was it all… just a dream?

Rashid roughly splashed cold snow against his face.

This isn’t real. He wasn’t dead. And Tericia had no reason to wear mourning clothes.

And Count Clu—hadn’t he already locked him away? Sealed him off so tightly that he couldn’t even see the light of day, let alone set foot above ground? So he could never, ever go near her again.

Then why this overwhelming sense of dread?

Trying to steady his shaking body, Rashid rose to his feet. He stumbled once, sinking into the snow, but stood again with determination.

“I have to go back.”

And quickly.

His horse, which had been circling nearby, was already waiting—ready to carry its master. Rashid swung up into the saddle in one fluid motion. With a quick signal, the horse charged forward.

He rode like a madman. Stopping only once or twice to wet his throat, he neither drank nor rested. He just kept riding.

Though he could feel his battle-hardened steed growing tired beneath him, he couldn’t stop. Somehow, the horse seemed to understand—galloping without pause.

The image of Tericia, dressed in black and lying in a pool of blood, kept playing in his mind.

Whether it was just a nightmare—or a vision—he didn’t know. And that uncertainty only made his fear worse.

At last, as the familiar landscape came into view, a thunderous boom ripped through the sky like the world itself was burning.

Something was wrong.

The closer he got to his destination, the thicker the smoke—and the stronger the smell of fire. Rashid pulled hard on the reins.

The ducal estate was on fire. Flames consumed the outbuildings, and knights were locked in fierce battle in the forest surrounding them.

Before he could even think, his body moved. Rashid drew his sword and spurred his horse forward, charging straight into the heart of the battle.

With his arrival, the tide turned almost instantly. The fight ended in a swift victory for Hespelt.

“Your Grace!”

Someone spotted him and shouted, their voice filled with shock and relief.

“Your Grace! You’re alive!”

The vice-captain rushed to him, his body marked with bruises and cuts from the fight.

“Where’s Tericia?”

“She’s safe, sir! She was very shaken when she heard of your… your death…”

Rashid’s expression turned cold. Death?

“She was told I was dead?”

“She… she received the report herself.”

Rashid’s face darkened. Something had gone terribly, horribly wrong. A report of his death? Out of nowhere?

“She’s in the main hall,” the vice-captain added quickly, sensing the gravity of the situation. Just then, imperial guards arrived.

“Your Grace!”

The knights, sent by order of the Crown Prince, looked visibly relieved at the sight of him alive.

“Lock up the survivors,” Rashid commanded. “You’ll oversee the situation here. Take command of the guards.”

He gave one last calming pat to his horse before turning its head toward the manor.

That’s when he heard it—

“Count Clu has escaped!”

Someone ran up, yelling urgently.

“What?”

“The underground cell… the door was open.”

Thump. His heart sank.

No. Don’t tell me… like in the dream… he went to Tericia.

“Your Grace!”

Rashid spurred his horse again and dashed toward the manor.

Tericia…

His unease turned to sheer panic. His heart pounded wildly.

As he neared the grand hall, he saw two silhouettes through the tall windows.

The woman he had longed for—Tericia. And in front of her, his back hunched and looming—Count Clu.

He was approaching her.

Get away, Tericia!

No sound came out. She stood frozen, like she was rooted to the floor.

It was exactly like the dream. Count Clu walking toward her, something sharp gleaming ominously in his hand.

Dream and reality were merging.

The sword piercing her slender body. Tericia lying in a pool of blood. The light fading from her eyes.

Before he could even think—his body moved.

Still on horseback, Rashid crashed through the window.

Shatter. The glass exploded into a spray of brilliant shards.

“Tericia!”

Like a scream torn from his soul, he cried her name and swung his sword at Count Clu.

A sweeping arc of silver light traced the air and slashed clean across the man’s neck.

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