A fortune-telling princess Chapter 121

The plate in front of the boy seemed overwhelmingly orange. Was it just her imagination, or did his stew and salad have an absurd amount of carrots?

Despite the overload, the boy ate diligently without complaint, chewing and swallowing with determination. Watching from beside him, Madam Sevine looked utterly pleased.

‘He’s going to choke at this rate.’

Still, it wasn’t Camilla’s place to comment. She resumed her own meal, only to pause abruptly. The ghost she had noticed earlier was still lingering beside the boy.

[My baby, my poor, sweet baby…]

The woman’s voice, laced with sorrow, matched the tears welling in her eyes. There was no doubt now—this ghost was the boy’s mother.

‘Didn’t they say she passed away right after childbirth?’

Count Althon’s words floated back to her. The woman had died from excessive bleeding after a difficult delivery, not from illness.

“Hmm.”

No wonder her spirit lingered. Not being able to hold her child even once before passing—her grief and regret must have bound her here.

‘Oh well.’

While understandable, Camilla didn’t feel particularly moved. Spirits like this were all too common.

Ignoring the ghost, she focused on her meal once more.

****

“Pardon? What did you just say?”

“What? I said I was working.”

“No, before that!”

“Before that?”

“You said you had dinner… alone… in your study?”

“There’s work piling up. I ate quickly while handling things.”

This wasn’t unusual for the Duke. When busy, he often dined alone at his desk. What was so surprising about it now?

“…”

“What?”

Count Althon, who had earlier excused himself, contacted the Duke via communication orb. While discussing urgent matters, the subject of dinner came up, and suddenly, Althon fell silent.

“Lord Kays.”

“And?”

The Duke’s tone grew sharp at Althon’s hesitation.

“It’s hopeless.”

“Hopeless? What is?”

“Your relationship with Lady Camilla. It’s hopeless.”

“…What did I do? Besides, I’m not looking to improve it. Things are fine as they are.”

“Shut up, for once!”

…Did this brat just raise his voice?

“You left her to dine alone on her first day in a strange place!”

“She wasn’t alone. Dive was there.”

“@$%@…!”

Did you just curse?

“Do you even understand why I brought her there?”

“You said it would be improper to leave her alone at the palace.”

“Wrong answer!”

“…You little—!”

Althon, emboldened by distance, grew more audacious.

“Go to her immediately.”

“Where?”

“Lady Camilla. Go to her.”

“And do what?”

A heavy sigh echoed from the orb.

“Have tea with her. Take a walk.”

“Why would I?”

“You insufferable—”

“…What?”

“Ahem! My servant dropped something. My apologies.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Regardless, you need to go. Now.”

“I’m busy.”

“Your Grace!”

“Goodbye.”

“Kays, wai—!”

The Duke cut the connection and tossed the orb aside. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he returned to his pile of documents.

Tea and walks? Who had time for such frivolities?

***

“…”

“…”

Camilla stared at the man sitting across from her, unsure of what to make of this situation.

The Duke of Escra had appeared out of nowhere, suggested having tea, and now sat there silently drinking cup after cup.

‘Why did he even come?’

She thought he might have something important to say, but he had been quietly chugging tea since his arrival.

“Would you like another cup?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Seriously? That’s his fourth cup already.

As Camilla poured more tea into his cup, she shook her head lightly.

“I shouldn’t have listened to that brat.”

“Pardon?”

Brat? Who?

The Duke sighed, meeting her eyes briefly.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“Not particularly.”

She hadn’t even been here a full day. There wasn’t much time for discomfort yet—this situation, however, was growing awkward.

After that brief exchange, silence fell again. The Duke drained his cup, and she instinctively asked, “Another?”

“No, I’m done.”

Right. Even he must have his limits. Five cups would’ve been overdoing it.

“His name is Dive?”

Camilla decided to break the silence first when it seemed he wouldn’t.

“How old is he?”

“Hmm… Ten.”

Was that a pause? Did he just calculate his son’s age?

‘No way.’

“Your eldest’s age?”

“…Twenty-five?”

Why the hesitation? Why the uncertainty?

This man had absolutely no interest in his children. Camilla didn’t expect him to know much about her, but shouldn’t he at least know his own son’s age?

“Where is your eldest?”

“Jaynor.”

“…Jaynor?”

“Not my eldest. Jaynor.”

He frowned, clearly displeased by her phrasing.

“Fine. Where is Jaynor, then? He’s not here, is he?”

She hadn’t seen him at dinner or anywhere in the house.

“He’s dealing with rebel remnants.”

“Ah.”

Camilla understood immediately. Though the civil war was over, remnants of the first prince’s faction still lingered. Jaynor was likely tasked with eradicating them.

“The second transaction list will be ready soon.”

“Understood.”

With that, the Duke stood. He lingered momentarily, watching her, but left without another word.

Camilla stared at the door as it clicked shut, tilting her head.

‘Why did he come?’

***

“It’s fully spring now.”

Hours past midnight, Camilla couldn’t sleep. Despite usually being able to fall asleep anywhere, tonight was different. Giving up, she stepped outside for a walk.

The night air confirmed it—Gracia Empire’s weather had grown significantly warmer.

A light cardigan was enough to ward off the chill.

“You should wear another layer.”

Dormann, who had followed her out, draped an extra jacket over her shoulders.

“You’re prone to colds.”

“Not with you around.”

“Really? I’m that reliable—”

“You irritate me enough to stay warm.”

“…”

Smiling at his dumbfounded expression, she continued walking. The garden, though plain, wasn’t bad for a nighttime stroll. The air was refreshingly crisp between the trees.

“Wait here. I’ll warm some milk for you.”

“Milk?”

“You’ll sleep better after a warm glass.”

I’m not a kid. Besides, I don’t even like milk.

Still, she didn’t refuse. His effort to care for her was appreciated.

As Dormann hurried off, Camilla settled on a nearby bench, sighing deeply. She gazed at the sky, her breath catching.

The stars. There were so many of them.

“Beautiful.”

[It is, isn’t it?]

“…!”

A voice startled her.

[I loved stargazing here when I was alive.]

It was the ghost from the dining room, now sitting beside her. When had she appeared? The woman spoke wistfully, staring up at the sky.

[Even in death, these stars are beautiful.]

“…”

[Oh! A shooting star! Make a wish!]

She chattered on, oblivious to the fact that Camilla could hear her.

[The weather must be improving. The stars seem brighter tonight.]

Should I leave?

“Miss!”

Dormann returned with a tray. Spotting her, he quickened his pace, eager to serve the milk while it was warm.

“Here you go.”

He’d even brought a large cookie studded with chocolate chunks. It looked tempting.

“I thought it’d go well with the milk.”

Camilla nodded and picked up the glass. The warmth seeped into her hands.

[That cookie… It looks so good.]

She nearly spit out the milk. The ghost, now crouching over the tray, stared longingly at the cookie.

The sorrow in her gaze was almost unbearable.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Dormann asked, puzzled.

Camilla put the glass down and grabbed the cookie, holding it out.

“Here.”

[…?]

The ghost’s wide eyes lifted from the cookie to meet Camilla’s.

“Eat it.”

[…! Aaaaaah!]

Her shriek echoed loudly.

Camilla raised an eyebrow. ‘Now this is new.’

Normally, humans screamed at ghosts, not the other way around. What was her deal?

And why did her reaction feel… unrefined?

Was this really the Duke’s wife? Her behavior seemed far from what one would expect of a noblewoman.

Shrugging, Camilla sipped her milk. The ghost, trembling, cautiously straightened.

[C-Can you see me?]

“If you’re not eating—”

[I want it!]