The 17th Princess Just Wants to Live

Three days after Rudolph and Richard’s first operational meeting was arranged.

I left the imperial palace to meet Tristan.

It wasn’t that I was running away; I was merely going out for a while.

However, as a princess, going out was too conspicuous, and at just twelve years old, I couldn’t leave without a guardian. Too many complications arose.

So, I decided to disguise myself as a maid.

The number of people working in the palace was immense. The servants alone numbered in the hundreds. Adding in the outsiders who came and went for various reasons, the total was incalculable.

Therefore, thoroughly investigating everyone entering and leaving the palace was nearly impossible.

Rudolph, who understood this well, made me a fake ID card, identifying me as a maid of the Sapphire Palace. He even added a little bonus.

“It has a spell that blurs your appearance.”

Rudolph said as he handed me the ID card.

Hearing this, I looked at Rudolph anew and immediately sensed the difference.

His usual aura, as if he had a halo behind his head, was gone. Holding the ID card, Rudolph suddenly looked like an ordinary person, someone you wouldn’t notice in a crowd.

“The effect only works while you’re holding it, so make sure you have it in hand when showing it to others. There aren’t many people in the palace who know your face, but it’s always better to be cautious.”

After saying this, Rudolph added in a worried tone.

“Do you really have to go in person?”

I nodded firmly.

“It’s too important to send a subordinate. My two brothers would draw too much attention.”

“But you’re going through all this trouble just to persuade one illegitimate child…”

“He’s not just any illegitimate child.”

I said with emphasis.

“He’s the future Duke of Aschenbach. It’s worth the effort.”

Richard also opposed my plan to meet Tristan directly. In fact, his opposition was even stronger.

“Do you know how dangerous the outside world is? And you plan to go alone?!”

Richard raised his voice, protesting vehemently upon hearing my plan.

“And you’re going to the treacherous Aschenbach family! What if something happens?!”

Richard raged, but I remained resolute.

In the end, three knights from the Kalia Order were assigned to escort me, and only then did Richard’s anger subside. On top of that, Rudolph insisted on adding a wizard for extra security, so I ended up with a total of four escorts.

Thinking of my brothers’ overprotective concerns made me chuckle. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about safety.

Since the knights and the wizard were to remain hidden and discreetly protect me, I was alone in the carriage heading toward the Aschenbach family’s townhouse.

I never thought I’d have the chance to leave the palace before turning fifteen. I gazed out at the scenery of the capital from the carriage.

In mid-May, the capital was at the height of spring. Flowers bloomed wherever the eye could see.

The capital’s spring was dry, with almost no rain until summer. The sky was bright, and white clouds drifted lazily.

For a moment, I was captivated by the beautiful view. But as we approached the townhouse of the duke’s family, I began to feel tense.

How could I persuade Tristan?

At first glance, there seemed to be nothing negative for Tristan. Just by accusing those who had abused him, he could achieve a great revenge, and on top of that, I was offering to make him a duke. It was an offer that anyone would find tempting.

But would it really be that simple…?

I thought about Tristan as he appeared in the original story.

When Imelda first met him, Tristan was like a wounded beast.

Burning with hatred and a desire for revenge, he distrusted Imelda and didn’t hesitate to use harsh words. He often said he’d rather die than be humiliated.

Of course, this was probably possible because of the narrative in the original story. As the beloved youngest son of a ducal family, the only thing he could show to the daughter of his enemy was hatred.

But I now understood well that the original story wasn’t the complete truth nor a complete lie.

The day I met Theodora, she told me about Duke Aschenbach’s rebellion plan. She said it had been prepared for a long time and expected it to be executed within three years. Given the timeline of the original story, it matched perfectly.

After hearing Theodora’s story, I was finally certain.

The original story I knew, , was based on reality, but it had cleverly mixed in falsehoods.

Most of the story matched the world I was living in.

The depictions of Rudolph and Richard were a prime example. Just to be sure, I asked Theodora about some trivial details unrelated to the main characters, and all of them matched.

But the content regarding the Aschenbach family, or more precisely, the portrayal of Tristan, was different from the original.

Tristan wasn’t the beloved youngest son but an abused illegitimate child, and Duke Aschenbach wasn’t falsely accused; he was a genuine traitor.

Who on earth wrote the original story, and why? What was the relationship between Tristan, me, and the original story?

There were many unsolved mysteries, but this was the most important question right now.

If only the details about Tristan differed from the original story, then what kind of person was the real Tristan?

“Miss, we’ve arrived.”

The coachman’s voice broke my thoughts.

“Shall I wait here until you return?”

He was a coachman hired by Rudolph, completely unaware of the details and simply instructed to follow my words.

“Yes, thank you.”

As I stepped down from the carriage, I was greeted by a wide-open field.

This place, a little removed from the bustling capital, was unclaimed land, belonging to no one. It held nothing but a gentle hill covered with green grass and scattered trees.

I took a step into the picturesque landscape.

The weather was clear, and my view stretched far. In the direction I was heading, a large mansion stood in the distance.

It was the Aschenbach Duchy’s townhouse.

Nobles who had estates far from the capital typically kept a townhouse in the city to stay during the social season from April to June.

Though the Aschenbach townhouse was a bit removed from the city center, its grandeur was unmatched. The three-story mansion, composed of two buildings, was more luxurious than most noble family estates.

I walked for a while, looking at the Aschenbach mansion, and then stopped under a large tree.

Soon, Tristan would come out with the horses.

According to what Theodora had investigated, Tristan worked in the stables. When working at the townhouse, he would bring the horses here daily to graze and take care of them.

How long had I waited before I saw someone leading a few horses from a distance?

Could it be Tristan?

Seeing the figure, my already racing heart pounded even harder.

Stay calm. Don’t be hasty; show grace and composure.

I whispered to myself, feeling as though I might dash forward any moment.

The horses came closer, and so did the person alongside them.

He was small in stature. His hair, revealed under the shining sunlight, was dark with a bluish hue.

He was checking on the horses as he walked slowly. Then, he looked up and spotted me watching him.

We weren’t close enough to hear each other yet. But even from that distance, it was enough.

I recognized him instantly. That beautiful face, once shrouded in darkness, now shone under the bright sunlight.

I approached him.

Resisting the urge to run, I walked slowly, hoping that Tristan wouldn’t flee.

Fortunately, he stayed where he was, and I quickly arrived in front of him.

“Hello?”

I greeted him with a smile.

I think I had planned a more impressive greeting—something much more charming and memorable.

But standing in front of Tristan, all those thoughts vanished, and what came out of my mouth was disappointingly ordinary.

“Do you remember me?”

Tristan looked at me. My heart now pounded so hard it felt like it might burst.

Tristan’s face, revealed in the afternoon sunlight, was beyond beautiful.

His delicate features gave him a youthful look, as if he hadn’t quite left his teenage years behind. Yet his sharp jawline and the shadows beneath his eyes hinted at a mysterious weariness, making it difficult to guess his age.

Tristan seemed both like a very young boy and an old man who had lived many years.

The contradictory impression of his face was so strong that I found it hard to speak while facing him.

As I stared at him, captivated, Tristan remained silent. After what felt like a very short moment, he finally responded to my greeting.

He turned his head away and walked in a different direction.

He approached the nearest horse and took out a brush to groom its coat. It was as if he had never met me.

He ignored me completely.

The moment I realized this…

My heart swelled with emotion.

This was the Tristan I knew.

The one who was wounded, closed off, guarded against the world, allowing no one near him—just like it took a month for him to have a proper conversation with my sister.

I had thought that, since there were many inaccuracies about Tristan in the original story, his personality might be different too.

Even if Tristan turned out to be different from what I knew—whether he was talkative, a crybaby, clumsy, or had any other trait that didn’t fit the image of a male protagonist—I came here prepared, reminding myself over and over not to disrespect the real person by being disappointed.

Yet, despite all my preparations, Tristan was just as I knew him. Just like the male protagonist I loved.

What should I do? This was bad.

“… hehe.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Did he hear me? Tristan glanced my way, startled, then moved behind the horse, as if to avoid my gaze.

For a moment, I felt embarrassed, my face flushing. But thinking I’d already shown him my awkward side made me feel more relaxed.

“Don’t you remember me?”

Now determined to be more proactive, I approached Tristan, who was hiding behind the horse. I let the words I’d held back flow freely.

“We met on the night of the celebration. Was it too dark for you to remember? Shall we consider this our first meeting, then? My name is Lucillia. I am…”

“Aren’t you the princess?”

I hadn’t expected him to respond.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I momentarily closed my mouth. Even though his reply came while he was grooming the horse without even glancing my way, it didn’t matter.

Tristan recognized me!

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from shouting with joy. He even knew that I was the princess. Did that mean he remembered our encounter on the night of the celebration?

“This is wonderful…”

My thoughts spilled out, almost trance-like. But Tristan remained indifferent to my giddy rambling. He spoke in a mechanical, emotionless tone.

“There is nothing to be happy about. I have nothing to say to you, Princess.”