A fortune-telling princess Chapter 157

 

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm.”

It was Duke Escra. He didn’t answer but instead quickly skimmed through the invitation in his hand. His brow twitched as he read.

“You don’t want to go, do you?”

“Hand over the invitation.”

“If you don’t want to go, then don’t.”

“It’s an invitation from the Emperor! How could I refuse?”

“I did.”

“What?”

“Yesterday, the Emperor invited me to lunch. I told him I was busy and declined.”

Duke Escra’s tone was as casual as if he were talking about the weather. His haughty gaze only added to Camilla’s growing frustration.

Of course, you could refuse.

That’s because you’re you! If a mere noblewoman like me rejected the Emperor’s personal invitation, I’d be blacklisted from society on the spot.

“Why are you still here, anyway?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“What do you mean, nowhere to go? You have a home. You should go back there.”

“But you’re not there.”

“…Excuse me?”

What kind of response was that?

Camilla stared at him, utterly baffled, before pressing her fingers against her temples to soothe her throbbing headache.

“Look.”

When you were there, you didn’t even care about me being your ‘daughter.’ Now suddenly you’re acting like this? What’s gotten into you?

“Why are you so intent on taking me with you?”

“Why are you so intent on staying here?”

“Because this is my home.”

“That’s your home too.”

Camilla was momentarily at a loss for words. Duke Escra’s eyes were serious, more so than she had ever seen them before.

Is he… being sincere?

“If you come with me, you won’t have to deal with invitations like this anymore.”

He waved the invitation in his hand.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“If you want, I’ll tear this up for you right now.”

He dangled the invitation in front of her, his usual smug smile plastered across his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Tempting you.”

Camilla snatched the invitation back from his hand.

“Mind your own business and go home.”

“I heard there’s a nice café nearby.”

He ignored her entirely.

Camilla glared at him briefly before deciding it wasn’t worth her energy and turning away.

***

“Is this the ‘nice café’ you were talking about?”

“You don’t seem very proud of your own establishment.”

The next day, Camilla visited the café and found Duke Escra seated at a window table as if it were his personal throne.

She had assumed he had urgent business when he left the mansion right after breakfast. Apparently, this was it.

“The desserts here are fantastic.”

Seated across from Duke Escra was Count Alton, who cheerfully waved at her.

“Is this really made from those black beans?”

“Who would’ve thought those beans could be used this way? I’ve only ever seen them used as air fresheners.”

The table was laden with coffee-based desserts.

“This is quite the addictive flavor.”

Count Alton seemed especially fond of the iced Americano, sipping it eagerly with both hands.

“You must like it too, Duke. You hate sweet things, and this drink seems made just for you.”

“Well, it’s not bad.”

Duke Escra nonchalantly took a sip from his coffee cup, then set it down with his usual indifferent expression.

Watching this from the counter, Camilla sighed and placed an order.

“One iced latte. Make it very sweet.”

“Of course, just a moment.”

When her drink arrived, topped with frothy milk, she carried it to Duke Escra’s table and set it in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“Drink it.”

“I already have a drink.”

“This one’s sweet.”

“Sweet, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? Duke Escra doesn’t like sweet things.”

“Really?”

Feigning ignorance, Camilla picked up the latte again.

Before she could take it away, Duke Escra snatched it out of her hands.

“I don’t like sweet things, but I’ll drink it out of courtesy.”

“I didn’t make it. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

“In that case, may I—”

Count Alton raised his hand eagerly, eyeing the frothy drink like a hungry cat.

“I’ll just drink—”

“Do you want to die?”

Duke Escra’s icy glare immediately silenced him, and Alton lowered his hand with a sheepish grin.

Camilla reached for the latte again, but Duke Escra tightened his grip on the glass.

“I said I’d drink it.”

The way he held onto the glass so stubbornly made it clear he wasn’t about to let go. Watching this, Camilla smirked to herself.

So it’s true.

She remembered a casual comment made by Sharuah, Duke Escra’s former wife, during her time in the Gracia Empire.

“Did you know something funny?”

‘What?’

“Our dear Duke has a massive sweet tooth.”

‘Him? Are you serious?’

“I didn’t realize it myself until I was dying. He eats sweets all the time when no one’s watching. He never touches them in public, though.”

‘Really?’

Look at him now. He hasn’t touched his coffee again since taking one sip, and he hasn’t eaten any of the cakes on the table. Yet he stares at Count Alton devouring his cake like a starved dog.

What’s he trying to prove? Camilla thought as she watched him take a sip of the latte. A faint smile flickered across his lips, which quickly vanished.

“Sir Duke, no need to force yourself just because Lady Camilla gave it to you. If you don’t like it, I’ll happily—”

“Shut up.”

“I only meant—”

“Shut up.”

Count Alton grimaced but obeyed, muttering under his breath about his Duke’s inexplicable sweetness obsession.

“Is that guy one of your employees too?”

“Who?”

Camilla followed Duke Escra’s gaze and nearly dropped her cup.

What is he doing there?

Thud, thud!

A figure was vigorously scrubbing the corner of the glass windows with a rag.

“Havel.”

Startled by her call, the figure fumbled and dropped the rag. It was none other than the reaper Havel.

“Is reaping souls not paying enough?”

“…”

“Should I put you on payroll? Want to work here?”

“No need.”

Havel shot her an unimpressed look, which only made Camilla chuckle. She couldn’t help but wonder what he used to do before becoming a reaper.

“You called for me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Before that, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Have you got some dirt on Dorman?”

“What?”

“You seem so loyal to him.”

Havel sighed, clearly annoyed. Dorman had contacted him that morning, and here he was already, reporting in less than a day.

He was always this quick to act on Dorman’s word, which puzzled Camilla.

“You were exiled, so why do you still follow him?”

“I don’t owe him anything.”

“Then why—”

“Enough. What do you want?”

“I saw another body-snatcher.”

“Where?”

“In the palace.”

“…The palace?”

Havel hesitated for a moment, then sighed—a rare display of emotion for him.

“Fabler’s Emperor, I presume?”

Camilla froze, her eyes widening.

“You knew?”

Havel’s reaction made it clear that the Emperor’s peculiar condition was no secret to him.

“Not just me. Every reaper knows about him.”

“What?”

That was unexpected. All the reapers knew about the Emperor?

“Then why haven’t you done anything?”

Havel had extracted the soul of a spirit possessing a body to save her once. So why were they leaving the Emperor alone?

“Because we don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“His name.”

“What?”

“None of us knows his true name.”