“The 17th Princess Just Wants to Live

In that short moment, dozens of thoughts flashed through my head.

I even went so far as to look at the duke’s two sons again, wondering if one of them might actually be a daughter.

But no matter how I looked at them, the two men who had half-turned toward me were clearly male.

The young Duke Assenbach resembled his father—his face showed almost no expression at all—but the younger brother looked visibly flustered.

The truly flustered one was me.

“It seems you were mistaken.”

Rudolf’s gentle voice broke the awkward, anxious silence. He patted my shoulder like a kind older brother and said to the duke,

“It’s Lucillia’s first time in high society. She must have confused you with another family. She’s just a child, so I hope you’ll be generous.”

“I’m sorry.”

I apologized a beat too late. I felt uncomfortable, thinking I had put Rudolf in an awkward position.

Even after hearing the apology, the duke said nothing. He stared at me with displeasure for a moment longer, then turned away. He left without even offering a farewell.

It was an extremely arrogant attitude. Even if I ranked second, to act like that in front of Rudolf made me realize just how powerful the ducal house was.

House Assenbach owned nearly twenty percent of the empire’s territory. Naturally, their wealth was immense, and their political influence went without saying.

Moreover, the two ducal houses of the empire had not been created by imperial decree.

They were forces that even the Esperusa family had failed to conquer during the unification of the continent. Instead, they had been incorporated into the empire through negotiation. Those forces were now House Assenbach and House Chardina.

Over time, imperial authority had strengthened and the power of other nobles had weakened, but the prestige of the two ducal houses had not faded easily.

That was why the fall of House Assenbach had been such a massive event that shook the empire. And why Imelda’s achievement in rebuilding the house and claiming it as her own had been so astonishing.

But what if Tristan didn’t exist?

Would House Assenbach simply disappear like that? What about Imelda?

My head spun with confusion.

“Lucillia, what’s wrong?”

Once the duke had gone far enough away, Rudolf asked me.

Of course, Rudolf must have been confused too. Until now, I had been exchanging only polite greetings, and suddenly I had asked the duke a very personal—and rude—question.

But I didn’t have the energy to explain anything.

“Brother, I need to go rest.”

I said weakly.

“Alright.”

Seeing my condition, Rudolf didn’t ask further and escorted me to the carriage. I climbed in, staggering like someone who had lost their soul.

“Get some good rest. We’ll talk properly next time.”

Even Rudolf’s gentle farewell barely reached my ears. I muttered a vague response. Once he closed the door, I was alone inside the carriage.

I leaned my forehead against the window as if collapsing.

Time passed, and the night had grown deep. More and more people were leaving like me, and carriages crowded the road. Two carriages bumped lightly ahead of us, and the drivers began arguing.

Outside grew increasingly chaotic, but it was nothing compared to my mind. My eyes faced outward, yet nothing I saw registered in my thoughts.

That was—until I saw it.

I snapped my head up.

The birthday celebration venue overflowed with light even in the dead of night, thanks to the magic stone decorations. Though magic stones hadn’t been laid along the stables or the roads, the glow from the party and the carriage lamps made my surroundings bright enough.

That was why I could see it clearly.

The two sons of Duke Assenbach, whom I had just met, were walking together with someone else.

The third person was hidden behind the tall figure of the young duke, so I couldn’t see him well. All I could tell was that he was smaller than the other two—and that he had black hair.

The moment I thought that black hair looked similar to the duke’s sons’, I threw the carriage door open.

“Princess?!”

The driver shouted in shock, but I ignored him and ran.

Black hair. A much smaller build than the other two. And wearing trousers—definitely a boy.

My heart pounded uneasily.

It was strange. If that person was Tristan—if Tristan Assenbach truly existed—this should have been a relief, not something to fear.

If the male lead existed, then there was no problem with the original story.

And yet, I was afraid.

Even while thinking all this, an irrational dread filled my chest so tightly that I could barely breathe.

As I followed the three figures toward a secluded part of the garden, the scenes I had witnessed earlier replayed in my mind.

The duke’s face as he restrained his anger while saying he had no youngest son.

Rudolf’s attitude, as if he knew nothing about a youngest son of House Assenbach.

The second son’s obvious fluster, unlike his older brother.

And the two of them disappearing into a quiet place with a child whose black hair looked exactly like theirs.

Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

It was a baseless premonition. I knew that. And yet, I desperately hoped it was wrong.

The three entered the imperial garden, moving farther from the lively party and toward a secluded area.

I hurried back toward the garden entrance. The area near the entrance connected to the carriage grounds was packed with people leaving the party.

Thankfully, without Rudolf beside me, no one seemed to recognize me. Still, moving against the flow of people was difficult.

In a moment of panic, I lost sight of them.

“No.”

I finally broke free from the crowd, but by then the three were gone without a trace. I ran toward the last direction I had seen them go.

But this damned garden was enormous and maze-like. The farther I moved from the center, the darker it became—so dark that even movement would be hard to see from a distance.

“Please.”

After running until my breath caught in my throat, I finally reached my limit and stopped.

My heart felt like it would burst. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, yet my hands still trembled.

I knew I was being irrational. But I couldn’t dismiss this as just a groundless hunch and turn back.

It felt like someone was sending me a signal—telling me something was wrong, that I needed to know.

I looked around.

I must have come far from the entrance, because there was no one nearby. Unlike the garden’s central area with grass and flowers, this place had many trees, like a small forest.

From far away, the noise of the party drifted faintly. Other than that, there were only insects.

I’m alone.

The moment I realized that, I sank to the ground and pressed my palm into the grass.

“Tell me where he is.”

I placed my hand on the earth and spoke as if praying.

I was trying to use Stella.

Until now, I had never consciously used Stella by my own will. It was a power that had already manifested. Without effort, I could find paths in forests and detect poisonous mushrooms.

No one consciously tries to see or hear. It’s something you sense naturally without effort. Stella was that kind of power to me.

But now, that wasn’t enough.

“He has to be nearby. Please.”

I poured my soul into it, desperately pressing my fingertips into the ground. I didn’t know how to do it—only that I was desperate. I prayed with everything I had.

“Find Tristan.”

In an instant, my whole body felt cold. Then my palm suddenly grew hot, and my hand—and the ground around it—began to glow faintly.

Before I could fully react—

An overwhelming amount of information flooded into my mind.

The densely tangled blades of grass. The temperature of the air each blade felt. The texture of the soil. The tiny insects looking up through the grass. The moisture on their skins. The seeds sleeping beneath the soil they stood on—and the sensations of those seeds. Every living thing connected to the earth beneath my hand, and everything they sensed.

“Ah—!”

I thought my brain would explode. It was far too much for a single person to process. My consciousness began to fade.

“No!”

I bit down hard on the inside of my mouth. The taste of blood anchored my mind. I focused, trying to let the torrent of information flow past me instead of accepting it.

“I can’t take it all in. I can’t see everything.”

As time passed, I began to understand how to use the power.

I gathered the force spreading in all directions from my palm and compressed it. Then I extended it long and thin. At first, it had surged like a tidal wave—now it felt like weaving a long, narrow spider’s thread.

My senses expanded.

The farther the power stretched, the more information came in. But now that I had grasped the technique, I slowly learned how to handle it.

“Let it pass by. Until I see what I want.”

Ignore what doesn’t matter. When I find a trace, follow it. The power extended in other directions returns to me, merges into the main flow, and stretches out again.

Until I finally find what I’m looking for.

In a place thick with bushes and packed with tall trees—where layered shadows made it hard to see with the naked eye—there were three people.

The moment I confirmed them, I pulled my hand from the ground and opened my eyes.

My human senses returned. First sight, then sound. When I raised my hand to check my sense of touch, my palm was covered in dirt.

I stood and ran toward the place I had seen.

Passing through dark brush and tree shadows, I finally made out human figures in the distance. A clear, resonant voice cut through the night air.

“Do you think I would believe that?”

Smack!

And then—

A sharp sound.

It was unmistakably the sound of a slap.

I couldn’t see who was hit, but my heart dropped just from hearing it. Without thinking, I rushed between the person who struck and the one who was struck.

“Ugh?!”

“…Princess?”

Only after stepping in did I see their faces. Anton, the second son—shorter and sharp-featured—made a strange sound when he saw me. Ludwig, the eldest, was also startled but controlled his expression better.

I glared at the two of them, then turned around and looked at the person collapsed on the ground.

Wrapped in black clothes, his small frame made him look more like a boy than a young man. Even with my sudden appearance, he lay there without moving.

Did he pass out?

Fear surged through me, and I bent down to look more closely.

At that moment, the boy lifted his head and looked at me. Our gazes met in midair.

I gasped.

Clear golden eyes shone brightly. A radiant color I could recognize instantly, even in the dark.

And yet—ironically—those brilliant eyes held a deep, dark emptiness.

I was reflected in his eyes, but he wasn’t truly seeing me. A suffocating abyss stared out from within, then quietly disappeared.

The boy closed his eyes and lowered his head again.

But that was enough.

Just that brief moment was enough to know. A face so beautiful it stole the breath at first glance—yet eyes soaked in resignation, holding nothing of this world.

With a trembling voice, I called his name.

“Tristan…”