Raising The Princess To Overcome Death Chapter 372

[ … words ]

Lena – The Last Lena

“Lerialia, Lerialia! Wake up, we’re almost there.”

“Mmm… Five more minutes…”

“Get up, now.”

Yawning and blinking my eyes open, I saw my brother in front of me. I’d been having such an entertaining dream, only for him to interrupt.

“Already? Ugh… I’m so tired. Can’t we just go in together?”

“No. If that’s what you wanted, you shouldn’t have entered the country separately in the first place.”

“I was just saying. Alright, brother, I’m off. See you inside.”

“Fine. Make sure your hood is pulled tight. Don’t wander off alone. Listen to what Sir Barin says. Do you need any money?”

Why would I need money? I stifled a laugh, amused at my brother’s unnecessary concern, and climbed out of the carriage.

As he instructed, I pulled my hood low and summoned the knights escorting me.

Niel, Wendy, and Sir Barin. Together, we detached ourselves from the larger party and moved ahead.

I must go first~

Sir Barin had me ride at the front of his horse, taking the reins. As we traveled, déjà vu struck.

A scene from my dreams resurfaced.

In the dreams, I was always riding with Sir Barin, fleeing from something.

I never knew what we were running from, but the flight itself was always clear.

Eventually, the dreams shifted. I would find myself alone with my brother, and—quite absurdly—our life as beggars would begin. Clad in a single ragged outfit, we lived like paupers.

“Pfft!”

“Is something amusing, Your Highness?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

I laughed involuntarily and told Sir Barin not to mind. Stroking the horse’s mane, I saw Orville in the distance.

“That’s it. Judging by the city walls, we’ve arrived.”

“Yes, it’s the place.”

This was my first time in Orville—or so I thought. Yet I felt as though I had been here before.

Not just vague familiarity, either. I could picture the streets inside, down to the smallest detail.

“House Tatian,” Sir Barin announced, showing our seal to the gate guards.

We entered without issue. Looking around, I couldn’t help but marvel.

The streets were exactly as I had seen in my dream.

A broad avenue stretched straight toward the palace. To the right of the gates was a flea market, and if you took the sixth alley—was it the sixth?—there would be a brothel or a theater.

But it was the left-hand streets I remembered most vividly, so I told Sir Barin to head that way.

“That way, Your Highness?”

“Wait… No, that way first.”

Clop, clop.

To my surprise, my memories were accurate.

It sounds ridiculous, but the marketplace felt familiar. The overwhelming scent of spices from the Kingdom of Bellita—this was it.

Still, I needed to delve deeper. I had to confirm something.

Ignoring the puzzled glances from Niel, Wendy, and Sir Barin, I directed them further into the alleys.

And then I found it. A place so familiar, yet indistinguishable from the other alleys we had passed—a special place.

There was an overhang to shelter from the rain and a trench running through the middle of the alley.

For reasons I couldn’t understand, my dreams always branched out from here.

“…Your Highness?”

“I’m frozen in time right now.”

“Your Highness! What are you doing? Your dress will get dirty.”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see if I could drink it.”

“Drink what? That?”

I ignored the knights’ protests, my mind focused on the real question:

Why do I dream of this? Is it my subconscious manifesting? Is there some hidden desire for freedom within me?

But I am already free.

My parents promised not to force me into a political marriage.

My brother will inherit the throne.

My life is entirely my own.

What reason could I possibly have to yearn for freedom?

“Your Highness!!”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, stop fussing.”

I leaned against the alley wall and sat down. In my dream, I had sat in this very spot, whining.

“Brother… I’m hungry.”

“Brother… I’m thirsty.”

What happened next always changed.

“Lena, wait here a moment. I’ll get us something to eat.”

Sometimes, he disappeared to find food.

“Lena, let’s go get dinner.”

Other times, he took me straight to a chicken shop.

And then, there were times when—before heading to the chicken shop—he would suddenly embrace me, on the verge of tears.

I never understood why the dreams varied so much.

Dusting off my dress, I reassured the knights, who hovered awkwardly, before continuing down the path.

Clop, clop.

They followed closely as I led the way, retracing my memories.

This must be it.

The dream made it seem much shorter, but in reality, it was quite a distance. After walking for what felt like ages, we arrived at another familiar street.

The faint scent of leather. The heavy odor of tanning chemicals.

This was Orville’s leather district, where small artisans crowded the area, their shops packed tightly together with narrow alleys in between.

After exploring nearly all the alleys, I stopped in front of a warehouse.

Cassia.

The name of a prostitute who appeared in some dreams but not others. Why? I had no idea.

“Who the hell are you?”

As I stood there, a hulking man appeared. His rugged, scowling face struck a chord of recognition.

“Ober?”

“…Who’s asking? How do you know my name?”

It was Uncle Ober.

Uncle? Haha.

I couldn’t hold back my laughter. The absurdity of calling him “Uncle,” the way everything aligned perfectly—it was all too funny.

“Pfft, hahaha!”

“Why’s she laughing? Is she crazy?”

“Hey, thug. Watch your mouth.”

“I ain’t no thug! And what are you all doing here? This is Rauno Family territory.”

“Ahahaha!”

“Damn, is she insane?”

“Ah, this is too much… Niel, Wendy, Sir Barin.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Knock him out.”