A fortune-telling princess Chapter 170

“pff-.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Ah, sorry.”

 

“Stop laughing?”

 

“Sorry, sorry.”

 

His attempt to suppress his laughter by twitching his lips was even more irritating. But seeing him outright laughing would be even more annoying, wouldn’t it?

 

“Argh! This is so frustrating!”

 

Camilla glared at Jaynor sitting in front of her.

 

“You’re amazing.”

 

“At what?”

 

“You can’t go anywhere without causing some kind of incident.”

 

“Maybe I was a magnet for trouble in my past life.”

 

“A magnet for… what?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know.”

 

This red Draggy!

 

‘Next time I see you, I’ll cut off every autumn-colored branch right in front of you!’

 

Why do you do things without being asked?!

 

“Were you really blessed by the gods?”

 

“Blessed by the gods, my foot.”

 

Jaynor, who didn’t fully understand her abilities, found this incident very intriguing. He kept asking questions, but she brushed them off with vague answers. It was annoying!

 

“These arbitrary things are so frustrating.”

 

Camilla scanned her surroundings with a somewhat fierce look. Are those spirits here in this garden too?

 

‘Just wait until I catch one.’

 

I swear I’ll tie up those fluttering wings! If I get really mad, I’ll call Aisla!

 

“Who’s being arbitrary?”

 

“There are such things. Things that flutter around in all sorts of colors.”

 

“What?”

 

Jaynor let out another light laugh.

 

“You keep so many secrets.”

 

“…I don’t want to hear that from you.”

 

Who in the world keeps more secrets than you?

 

“But that’s why you’re so interesting.”

 

“I’m not living like this for your amusement.”

 

He burst into laughter again, then suddenly reached out his hand.

 

“There’s dust on you.”

 

Camilla instinctively pulled back, but he gently held her shoulder.

 

“I’ll get it off for you.”

 

Is there dust near my eyes?

 

He carefully brushed around her eyes. Her face scrunched up from the tickling, and her eyes closed.

 

“It’s not coming off easily.”

 

“I’ll do it myself…!”

 

As Camilla tried to pull back again, Jaynor withdrew his hand first. At the same time, her eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Looks like it’s off now.”

 

“Brother.”

 

It was Ludville who had pulled Jaynor’s hand away from her.

 

“Oh, is it? When did it come off? I didn’t notice.”

 

Jaynor replied nonchalantly and quickly pulled his hand back. Ludville looked at him silently for a moment before taking a seat.

 

“Finished your training?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How did you…?”

 

“Luve told me you and this guy were here.”

 

His hair was still not fully dry, indicating he had come straight after a shower. What was so urgent that he came out while still wet?

 

“It’s good timing. I made some pudding this morning to give to brother. I’ll go get it now.”

 

She also planned to grab a dry towel while she was at it. She thought about sending Dorman, but he had already disappeared silently, as he didn’t like being around Jaynor.

 

‘Come to think of it, he’s been slacking off a lot lately, hasn’t he?’

 

That brat! Can’t even do the job of a servant properly? I’ll make him work all day at the café starting tomorrow.

 

‘You better be ready for it.’

 

“Please wait a moment.”

 

Camilla grumbled to herself as she headed straight to the kitchen. By now, the tea pudding should have cooled nicely.

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

After Camilla left, only Jaynor and Ludville remained, and a heavy silence fell. Jaynor was the first to speak.

 

“You two seem to get along better than I expected.”

 

A gentle smile formed on Jaynor’s lips, but Ludville noticed his eyes were not smiling at all.

 

“We’re family.”

 

Jaynor chuckled at that short reply. Ludville’s gaze turned icy.

 

“Not even a drop of blood shared, yet family. Ah, I apologize. I spoke out of turn.”

 

“That applies to you too, doesn’t it?”

 

He meant they were both in the same boat regarding not sharing blood with Camilla.

 

“I’ve lived with her much longer.”

 

Uncharacteristically adding a remark, Ludville returned to his usual indifferent demeanor.

 

“You’re right.”

 

Jaynor nodded lightly.

 

“If I could go back, I’d find her first.”

 

Go back? Where to?

 

“Since there’s no going back now, it’s quite a pity.”

 

Ludville looked at him, puzzled by his cryptic words, but Jaynor just smiled without explaining.

 

“No way.”

 

“I told you, you’ll grow mold if you keep doing that!”

 

“How can mold grow on a living person?”

 

“It’ll be the first for your body.”

 

At that moment, a noisy sound made both turn their heads. Camilla was dragging someone along.

 

It was Ravi.

 

“Ugh, I’m hungry.”

 

Ravi, who had been holed up in his study since yesterday, moved slowly, yawning.

 

He was on his way to the kitchen for a snack and some rest when…

 

“Hey!”

 

“…Damn it.”

 

Unlucky enough, he ran straight into Camilla.

 

He tried to escape, but she grabbed him.

 

“Hey! Human!”

 

Slap!

 

“Ow! Did you just hit me?!”

 

“Does it hurt? You’re practically a zombie.”

 

“Zombie? What’s that?”

 

“Shut up and come with me.”

 

“Why? I’m busy.”

 

“Should I cut off your magic stone supply?”

 

“Hey!”

 

He was eventually dragged out, all while being nagged about needing some sunlight.

 

“Don’t even think about moving until you’ve eaten everything.”

 

“You need to move to eat.”

 

“You have time for wordplay, just eat.”

 

“Eat… isn’t your language getting rougher?”

 

“How good it is that only my language is getting rough.”

 

“Then who hit me earlier?”

 

“Who knows?”

 

“Shameless.”

 

Behind the bickering pair, servants followed with trays full of simple snacks for Ravi.

 

“Ha.”

 

Jaynor’s eyes curved into a pleasant smile as he watched.

 

“Sharing even half the blood does make a difference.”

 

“…”

 

Ludville responded with silence, but his gaze towards Camilla and Ravi was complex.

 

* * *

 

“Mom! Buy me that, that!”

 

“Again?”

 

“Mommy!”

 

“Sigh! Alright, let’s go.”

 

“Yay!”

 

The capital’s streets at night were even more vibrant and joyful than during the day, capturing the steps of many.

 

As befits a night filled with festival excitement, various events lined the streets, and the sky was painted with splendid fireworks, further enhancing the festive mood.

 

Children, holding their parents’ hands in one hand and snacks in the other, moved with faces full of laughter.

 

Boom!

 

“Hic…”

 

“Eh, Mom…”

 

“I’m scared…”

 

While the entire capital was ablaze with the fervor of the festival, the sound of fireworks reached even the upscale residential area in the center of the city.

 

Bang!

 

With each firework, a faint light entered the previously dark space.

 

A vast area where the end was not visible, filled with numerous statues as if it were an exhibition hall.

 

There were statues kneeling in prayer with hands clasped, and there were angel sculptures with arms raised as if about to fly into the sky.

 

No two sculptures had the same pose.

 

The only commonality among them was that every statue had an expression of either crying or being severely distorted.

 

“U… uh!”

 

Among these many sculptures, a small cry actually came from one.

 

An angel statue kneeling. Upon closer inspection, it was not an ordinary statue.

 

A boy, about six years old, with wing decorations on his shoulders, was crying incessantly.

 

Yet, he maintained his prayerful pose without disrupting it.

 

“It… it hurts.”

 

“Mom… u… uh!”

 

Crying sounds echoed from several other statues nearby as well.

 

Bang.

 

“..!”

 

But the next moment, the sound of the door being forcefully opened silenced the cries like a lie.

 

The children didn’t even dare to breathe properly. Their faces turned even paler, frozen with fear as footsteps approached.

 

Step.

 

The man who approached them was in his mid-forties.

 

He had a somewhat intellectual appearance with his longish hair neatly swept back. His sharp gaze was accentuated by his glasses.

 

Viscount Orleans. He was very well-known for his deep appreciation of art and for sponsoring poor artists.

 

He was also rumored to be very devout, donating an enormous amount to the temple annually.

 

This was understandable since he had inherited a vast fortune from his family, never having known financial hardship.

 

“The wings are attached well.”

 

A satisfied smile graced the Viscount’s lips as he approached the child in the angel statue form.

 

His eyes were filled with ecstasy as he looked at the wings. He marveled at the beauty as if he were beholding a real angel.

 

“Truly like an angel.”

 

“Hic!”

 

“Ah, do we have to give up on a smiling face for this piece too?”

 

“U… uh.”

 

“It would be more beautiful if you smiled.”

 

He clicked his tongue in regret, then picked up a brush that was set aside. In his other hand was an unknown liquid.

 

He dipped the brush in the liquid and began to apply it very carefully to the crying child’s body.

 

As if he were an artist himself, the Viscount’s serious application of the brush made the child’s cries grow louder.

 

“Please… hic! Save me, sir…”

 

“Good heavens, I’m not killing you!”

 

Viscount Orleans was shocked as if she had said something terrifying. Then, with a bright smile, he tried to soothe her.

 

“You will live forever. In this beautiful form.”